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EMERY
I’ve imagined for years what I would say to my parents if I ever got the chance to speak freely. Practiced it in the mirror, with a lifetime’s worth of venom saved up for the occasion.
But with the opportunity right in front of me at long last, I suddenly couldn’t find the words. My tongue was a rock in my mouth, immobile and useless.
Then Adrik stepped up.
I stare at him as he speaks. He’s looking at my mom, but it feels like he is talking directly to me. Telling me everything I wish I could believe. Everything I need to know about the people who raised me.
I’m breathless listening to him. Every word feels like aloe on a burn. Like seeing the sun after years of darkness.
Adrik finishes and stares at her. His face isn’t twisted in rage or anger. It's even, calm, composed… which makes what he just said that much more cutting.
My mother is white as a sheet. Her mouth flaps open and closed helplessly.
But she knows as well as I do: there’s no coming back from that.
So, with a haughty sniff, she pivots on her heel and disappears. She doesn’t look back, not even once, and as she goes, I’m struck by the feeling that she’ll never meet my eyes again.
When we’re alone, Adrik turns and cups my cheeks. “Emery…”
"I'm fine," I say. But as I do, I realize it's a lie. I shake my head. "No, I'm not. I'm—"
"You don't need her approval, kiska. You don't need shit from her," he says. "I'll take care of you."
"I know,” I whisper back. “I know you will.”
Adrik's blue eyes glimmer as he smiles, and I can't help myself. I stretch up onto my toes and kiss him.
The kiss is too long and too passionate for the setting, but I don't care what anyone here thinks of me. Not anymore.
“Do you want to leave?” he whispers as we break apart.
“I thought you wanted me to eat.”
“There are other ways to get food besides pass-around hors d’oeuvres at a funeral,” he drawls.
I laugh bitterly. “Well, then are you sure you don’t want to stay for the scintillating conversation?”
Adrik rolls his eyes. “You don’t owe anything to anyone here, Emery. Let’s go.”
He takes my hand and we start to leave, but before we get far, someone in my peripherals clears their throat.
I turn to see a toad-faced man with a bald spot. His neck has disappeared inside his suit jacket, leaving just a blob of a head and a stern frown.
“Are you Emery Montague?” he asks.
“My God,” I groan. “Yes, and feel free to go tell my mother I’m leaving. She doesn’t have to worry about me ruining whatever dignity this ridiculous event has left.”
The man’s frown deepens. “I’m sorry, tell your mother what?”
“I know she sent you over here to kick me out,” I continue. “But we’re already leaving. So run along and—”
“Ms. Montague,” he interrupts. “I—”
“Tasarov,” Adrik says sharply. “Her name is Emery Tasarov. Mrs. Tasarov to you.”
I slide closer to Adrik. He wraps his arm around me.
“I didn’t realize you were married,” the man says. “My apologies. But that shouldn’t affect the bequeathal process in any way.”
“What bequeathal process?”
“I’m Leonard Graves,” he says. “Your father’s lawyer and the executor of his will.”
I blink, letting the information sink in. “I’m in his will?”
“Yes, you are. I’ve been able to reach everyone else named in the will, aside from you, Ms. Mon—Mrs. Tasarov.”
I shrug. “Well, here I am. But whatever he has bequeathed me, I don’t want it. They can keep my trust fund. Donate it. Burn it. I don’t care.”
“This has nothing to do with any trusts or accounts that have been set up for you,” Leonard says. “This is solely about what was allotted to you in the will.”
He pulls out a small envelope in his pocket and holds it out to me.
It doesn’t look like a lot of money, is my first thought. Which only goes to show how unfamiliar I am with large sums of money these days. It’s not going to be a wad of cash. This is a bequeathing, not a drug deal. It’s going to be a check with a nauseating number of zeroes.
And I don’t want a cent of it.
I pull my hand back. “Mr. Graves. I really don’t—”
“I must insist,” he says. “I’m legally required to hand this to you and be certain you see it and are aware of it.”
I shake my head. “But I don’t want—”
“For fuck’s sake,” Adrik grumbles next to me.
He reaches out and snatches the envelope from the lawyer. Before either of us can say anything, he’s tearing into it.
“Mr. Tasarov,” Leonard gasps. “Your wife is the recipient. She is the one who needs to accept the envelope. I just… for goodness’ sake, I can’t understand why this has been so difficult.”
The poor man looks like he’s about to have a fit, but Adrik ignores him and slides a check out of the envelope. As soon as he sees what’s written on it, his eyes narrow into furious slits.
“What is it?” I ask.
Adrik looks over at me. Then a second later, he turns the check around and holds it out to me. “Touch it so Mr. Graves here doesn’t shit himself.”
Slowly, I take the check from his hands.
“Thirteen Dollars and Four Cents”is typed out in bold black ink. My father’s signature slashes angrily across the bottom right corner.
But the memo line is what has my attention. I recognize my father’s block handwriting. I read it out loud in a hushed whisper. It’s a Bible verse. Hebrews 13:4.
“‘Marriage should be honored by all, and the marriage bed kept pure, for God will judge the adulterer and all the sexually immoral.’”
The world wavers in front of my eyes for a moment. Reality bending at the edges.
“What a bastard,” I rasp, my voice shaky. “What a heartless, manipulative bastard.”
“Mrs. Tasarov?” Leonard says, looking concerned. “Is everything all right? I’m sorry if—”
“She has the check now,” Adrik snaps. “You’ve done your duty. Now, get out of my sight.”
The lawyer nods and slinks away in terror, but I can feel everyone’s eyes on me now. It didn’t bother me so much before, but now, it feels like I’m standing too close to the sun. I can feel my skin burning and bubbling.
If I don’t get out of here, I’ll die.
