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Until they involved us by visiting and trying to get all four of us to go somewhere with them. I told them I had to call Dad and Mom to make sure it was okay. It wasn’t, which they knew and is the reason they tried to convince me to hang up the phone. Said they promised to get us home before our parents, so they’d never know we left and we wouldn’t get in trouble. Something felt wrong and I dialed mom at work. She told me to immediately get the others upstairs and for us to stay there until she or Dad got home. When they did, our grandparents were gone, but I heard mom yelling at them that night. Told them if they ever came near us again, they’d regret it. After she slammed the phone down, she made us promise to never go anywhere with them and to run the other direction if they even tried to talk to us. Every school we attended since that moment was informed that only our parents could pick us up regardless of what anybody tried to claim and to call the cops if someone else tried.
Honestly, I don’t even know if they’re aware Dad and Mom passed away and I don’t care. I loathe them for the pain they caused her, and the unknown of what could’ve happened that day when they wanted to take us.
A door slamming snaps me back to the present and I reprimand whoever did it. Nash pops his head in and mumbles a sorry. He looks tired and I feel bad for getting on his case about something so silly. He’s just as frazzled as I am and has been working extra hours as a distraction. So he says. I have a feeling he’s trying to earn as much money as he can in a quest to help out financially. He’s been employed at the same restaurant since his sophomore year, rising from dishwasher to waiter to his current role.
Rufus, the owner, saw how interested Nash was in cooking and offered a trial run, a chance for Nash to show what he could do. After making any dish Rufus requested, and nailing each of them, he knew my brother was being wasted on the floor and asked the chef, Samuel, to let him shadow him. Samuel agreed and Nash couldn’t stop smiling for a week.
“Shit. I really am an idiot,” I exclaim, my mind piecing together Nash’s job with a way I can show Ember what she means to me.
“That’s never been in doubt, but what did you do this time?” Nash instantly replies. I tell him all of it and he stares at me, unable to believe I’m that stupid. Join the club.
“That girl has been in love with you forever, you freaking dumbass. You kiss her, tell her it was a mistake which is essentially rejecting her, then make her leave a place she’s always considered home.” I start to defend myself, not that I can, but he’s not finished. “To make it worse, you state that you needed something and took advantage of her friendship. Did I get it all?” I confirm his replay, cringing at my own behavior. “Do you get that you made her feel like she wasn’t enough?”
“Fuck! I’m no better than her parents. I’m worse because I know what their treatment does to her. I don’t deserve her forgiveness or love, but I’m gonna try like hell to get both.” Being the great brother he is, he asks if I want his help. “As much as it pains me to admit, yes. I can’t do this on my own.”
“Text Ember and tell her you’ve got dinner covered. You can’t adequately express how much you messed up while eating the food you made her not only bring over, but also cook and/or pay for. Did Dad teach you nothing? You know Mom said he was the sweetest man she’s ever met, so how did none of that seep into you?”
“Too many muscles to go through,” I answer with a smirk.
Nash chuckles as I’d hoped, then mimes gripping a phone and using his thumbs like he’s texting. I do as my new relationship guru demands and Ember’s immediate reply has me barking out a laugh. Nash uses my momentary lack of focus to steal my cell and read the conversation.
Me: Don’t worry about dinner. It’s taken care of. Just bring yourself.
Sparky: So, Nash is cooking.
Me: I plead the fifth.
Her response wasn’t a question but a definitive statement because she knows she’s right. Brat. “She’s got you pegged, man. Hold onto her as tightly as you can. If you lose her, someone else will snap her up and you’ll regret that for the rest of your life.” With that prophesy, he returns my phone and strolls upstairs whistling what sounds like theDumbass Songby Tom Petty, our dad’s favorite singer.
I quickly pick up the trash, straighten a few things, then head toward my room to hop in the shower. Nash and I cross paths in the hall and he assures me that not only does he have it covered but I also owe him. I promise whatever the hell he wants if he helps me fix this.
Thirty minutes later, I’m standing in the living room when I hear a knock and I wonder how long it’ll take before I stop associating that sound with bad news.
As she walks in, she stops and looks around, almost as if expecting my parents to appear and greet her like they always would with welcoming hugs. When it doesn’t come, her breath hiccups, as if reality just smacked her in the face.
I didn’t plan what I wanted to say, knowing the smartest thing to do is speak from the heart since it’s full of her anyway. I’ve never been good at sharing that type of stuff, though. I have enough figurative bottles of emotions inside me to open an impressive, yet sad, wine cellar.
My mom had a saying, ‘If you need to make a choice, whichever is the hardest is usually the right path for you.’ Over the years, that’s proven true so many times. Her parents are an example. She knew they were toxic. It hurt her to let go of the hope of having a normal relationship with them, but Mom had to do what was best for her, and therefore her family, by cutting them out of her life.
I say a quick and silent prayer, asking my parents for guidance, needing it more than ever right now. Ember is too important for me to screw this up. Again. I don’t expect an answer, yet I get one nonetheless as my eyes are drawn to a quote mom had written in calligraphy and framed herself. She’d gotten so good at it that people would hire her to address invitations, fancy up their menu, etc.
The heart never steers you wrong.
Thanks, Mom.
Taking a deep breath, I grab Ember’s hand and pull her toward me, grateful when she wraps her arms around me.
“I’m a dumbass. A stupid idiot that thought he was doing the right thing, when in fact, I was scared. Of my feelings for you, of losing you, of holding you back, of failing you.” She stares at me in confusion. I’m a big man, so the thought of something scaring me is probably hilarious, but things do, and they all revolve around those I love. My family…and her. Ember starts to talk, but I gently shake my head, asking for a chance to continue before I lose my nerve. A slight nod lets me know she, as always, understands me without words needing to be said, at least in that. However, some do and it’s time to let them out.
“I was wrong to push you away. I’ve protected you since the second we met, not wanting anyone to hurt you, only to turn around and do it myself. I won’t ask for your forgiveness for doing so because I don’t deserve it. But I am sorrier than I can ever express for acting as I did. Losing my parents,” I stop for a moment, trying not to let my tears fall. “It hurts like hell, and I knew my brothers and sister would need me. I couldn’t let Camden and Riley be taken from us. I would need to become the adult and take over raising them. I’ve already started the process to be named their guardian, but it's not a sure thing yet. My life as I knew it, things I’d planned, had to come second, and so would you.”
“As it should be,” she instantly responds, not even hesitating to agree.
I drop a kiss on her head. “When we went back to school, I was going to talk to you and have a long overdue conversation about us. Then the cops stole my chance with their news. I’m ashamed to admit, even for a second, my selfishness. I didn’t want them to be gone because that meant a dream of mine was, too. One that involved you.”
“Wh…?”
“I love you, Ember. I always have in some way. Over the years, it morphed from friendship into more, but it took a while to finally realize what kind it was.”
