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She cocks her head, narrowing her eyes as she looks at me. “You sure about that? Nothing else?”
I laugh softly. “I don't recall you ever being this paranoid before.”
She lets out a long breath, then takes a drink of her wine. She stares into the glass like the meaning of life can be found within the dark red liquid. There's a profound sadness I see in her eyes that sends a small stab of pain lancing through my own heart. It makes me wonder about all she's had to endure all these years.
“My – situation – has changed me over the years. How could it not?” she shrugs. “And I've found that the real world isn't a very nice place. As a result, I've had to learn to keep my guard up and question everything – including everybody's motives.”
“That's fair. Unfortunate, but fair.”
She gives me a rueful grin. “Life is often unfortunate.”
The waitress comes by the table and sets our plates down in front of us. We eat in a strained silence for a few moments. I can tell that Emily is still processing what I told her – and probably also how she feels about it. Slowly, though, I feel that frost between us start to melt again. She looks up at me, a sheepish grin on her face.
“The minute I saw it was you, part of me wanted to walk out,” she admits. “There's a part of me that was humiliated.”
“Why would you be humiliated?”
She gives me a small shrug. “Because my life had changed so drastically,” her voice is colored with sadness. “I just remember that I used to tell you my life's plan. About how I was going to be a big-time lawyer. I had dreams of vacationing in Europe, or some exotic location. I had goals for...”
Emily's voice trails off and she seems to be physically running out of steam. I watch her as she shrinks back in her seat and seems to deflate, folding in on herself. It's probably all the wine she's had tonight lowering her guard, but I feel like she's finally starting to open up and let her true feelings out. And because she is, I want to keep her talking, if for no other reason than to answer the questions I've had in my own head for so long now.
“Like you said, life rarely works out the way we intend for it to,” I commiserate with her. “But, you're still young enough to get back into school and get back to work on that future you imagined.”
“I want to believe that. Most days I'm able to convince myself of that,” she says, her voice stiff and wooden. “Other times, I'm not so sure. On those days, I wonder if that ship has already sailed and I'm stuck in the die my father cast for me.”
Her smile is wan and the sense of sadness and resignation wafting off of her is palpable. It's as if she no longer believes the future she wanted – and was working hard to build – for herself is attainable. She puts on a brave face and still speaks as if she can accomplish her goals, but on a deeper level – one I'm seeing right now – it's as if she believes her dreams died with her father.
“You don't have to be stuck in that die, Emily,” I offer. “Your future can be what you make of it.”
She raises her eyes to mine and I see the struggle inside of them. “You have no idea how much I want that to be true.”
“It's very true,” I insist. “Wasn't it you who told me not all that long ago, that with what you're making working for me, that you'll be able to afford to go back to school?”
“Sure, it's possible,” she shrugs. “But, is it realistic? I don't know. I mean, working full time and taking a full load of courses – I don't know how feasible or possible that even is.”
“If that's what you want to do, I'm sure we can figure something out.”
She gives me a small smile. Thankfully, it contains at least a trace warmth to it. I don't know if she's buying it, though. I don't know that I'm convincing her that if her goal is to finish her education, we can find a solution.
“Can I ask you a personal question, Emily?”
She purses her lips. “Sure.”
“What happened to your dad's money?” I ask. “I mean, for you to be at Rodham –”
“He lost it all, Aaron.”
She looks absolutely crestfallen as she tells me. The pain she's feeling is as fresh today as it was then. I have to resist the urge to go to her and hold her, simply because I don't know how she'd react to it. Despite the growing ease between us, I don't think we're quite at the point with each other where a hug would be welcomed.
She looks up at me again and I see a grim determination in her face. “After my mom died and we broke up, I finished out my degree. I even took some time traveling like I told you I always wanted to. And when I enrolled in law school, I was ready and dedicated to starting a new phase in my life. I was so excited. But I left school when I got the call that he'd –”
Emily bites off her words as if she's still having trouble spitting them out. Which, in my mind, only confirms what I already suspect. But she clears her throat and seems compelled to go on.
“I left law school when I got the call that he killed himself, Aaron. He locked himself in the garage and gassed himself,” she says flatly, her tone gruff. “I had thought things were finally getting back to normal after my mom’s death. But I guess it never did.”
I purse my lips for a moment then take a swallow of my drink. There are still questions on my mind of why she dumped me after her mother’s death, but I don't want to say anything and derail her train of thought. She seems determined to speak, and I want to give her every opportunity to share herself with me. I'll get to the rest later.
“After the funeral, I learned that he'd lost everything,” she goes on. “Stupid investments, gambling debts – a thousand different things. He squandered everything away. He left me the condo I'm still living in and that's it. Left me without a cent to my name.”
