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How?
How am I supposed to take care of him?
His ex-girlfriend, former best friend, and former love of his life, is dead. She went off and died without telling him until after it was over. How am I supposed to help him?
I hand his phone back to him. He takes it and gets out of the truck. I follow, handing him his keys. Maybe he needs space. Time alone. Emerson turns to walk away.
“I'll see you later,” I say to his back, feeling defeated and despising that I'm at a loss as to how to handle this.
Emerson spins around. His expression is blank and I hate that too. “Where are you going?”
“I...um...” Maybe leaving is a bad idea.
“I don't want you to go, Eva,” he says softly, holding out his hand.
I step forward and take it. When we get inside, he lets go, walking to the fridge in the kitchen. I slip off my shoes and sit on the couch. Emerson brings me a beer, already nursing one himself. My stomach is in knots. We haven't eaten at all today. He lies down, resting his head in my lap. I start playing with
his hair.
“Do you want me to fix dinner? You should probably eat.” Now that I've realized it, I'm starving.
“Not hungry,” he mutters.
“Please, Emerson. Let me cook for you.”
He huffs, sitting up so I can stand. I feel bad for annoying him, but he needs to eat. Then again, I rather have annoyance than the blank stare he had earlier. He has some pork chops in the fridge, so I grab them and get to work.
Emerson's had four beers, including the one I abandoned, by the time I finish dinner. He goes for a fifth when I stop him.
“No more,” I tell him quietly, not sure how he's going to react. “Get us both something else.”
His mouth parts, to argue, but he closes it and nods. We take a seat at the bar and begin to eat. Despite what he said, he devours his meal. We eat in silence. Before, it seemed natural for us not to speak while we ate. Now? It's a weight on my shoulders. When we're putting the dishes away, I finally break the quiet, my voice sounding too loud in his kitchen.
“I need to go to campus.” When he quickly glances at me, I hurry to add, “For clothes and my books.” He relaxes and nods. “I'll be quick,” I promise. He nods again.
I wish he would stop nodding.
EVA HASN'T BEEN gone fifteen minutes when there's a knock on the door. I don't want to answer it. I don't want to do much of anything, but I force myself to stand.
“What are you doing here?” I gruffly ask Glen.
He stuffs his hands into the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie. “Eva called and asked if I would come hang out until she could get back.”
“I don't need a fucking babysitter,” I snap.
He shrugs and walks past me. “I'm sorry.”
Sorry he's here? Sorry Eva didn't think she could leave me alone for thirty minutes? Or sorry because he knows Kelly's dead?
My stomach twists with the thought. I slam the door, the sound echoing around the room. “Did she tell you everything?” I ask as we take a seat on the couch.
“Enough that I know the gist. I'm sorry, man.” This time, I know he's talking about Kelly. There was a softer inflection in his voice while he pinned his sad gaze on me.
I don't say anything. We sit there in silence as my grief morphs into anger. Maybe it's because Eva's not here or because she made Glen come over, but the words spew from my mouth. “I hate her.” I'm so full of anger, I don't know what to do. I've never been this furious. “All this time, she was dying. Dying without me there with her. I should have been there, Glen. She had no right to choose this for me.” There's too much energy buzzing in me, so I stand and start pacing.
“What the hell was she thinking? I loved her!” I shout. “She was my best friend and she wouldn't even let me be there for her. All this time I was upset over her, dating other girls and then falling in love with Eva, I should have been with Kelly! This is fucked up! The only reason I'm with Eva is because Kelly was dying. How in the hell am I supposed to accept that?” My chest heaves with my hard breathing, my fists clenched by my side.
“By remembering why she did it,” a soft voice interrupts.
