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“I'm sorry, Emily.”
She shrugs. “That's why I had to give up my goals and dreams. It's why I had to get a job,” she continues. “I had a place to live – thankfully – but I didn't have money to even feed myself. I had to start pulling in a paycheck just to live. And it's been that way ever since. As the years go by, it just seems a little more inevitable that those dreams I had back then are just – gone.”
I don't know why, but her words hit me like a hammer blow. It's not exactly pity I feel for her – she's the kind of woman who would kick somebody's ass for pitying her. But it's something. Sorrow, perhaps. Sorrow for her losing a dream she'd worked so long and hard for.
Getting into Rodham isn't easy. It's not strictly about money. It helps, but you also have to have the grades and the intelligence to get in. It's why two of my little group almost didn't make it – their grades sucked because they were too busy partying back in high school. But I know she worked her ass off to get there. And even though we were no longer together, I know she buckled down and graduated with excellent grades. That’s the kind of person she is.
For her to have entered this new, exciting phase of her life – law school – and then have it torn away from her must have been torture. After all that hard work and dedication, I can't imagine how tough it was to see all of those hopes and dreams vanish like a puff of smoke on a breeze.
What kills me the most, though, is that she seems to have given up. At least, some small part of her has already given up and accepted that working a menial job is the status quo for the rest of her life. She's better than that. Much better.
But the Emily I knew would never give up. Never. She'd never quit, and she'd never settle for less than she wants or deserves. The Emily I knew is the kind of person who will push forward at all costs. The kind of person who claws, scratches, and fights for everything. Even though she grew up privileged, I've always known her to be the kind of person who takes nothing for granted and earns everything she has – or hopes to have.
“They're not gone, Emily. They're just harder to see right now,” I offer. “But you've never been the kind of person to not find a way to overcome adversity.”
She scoffs. “I grew up wealthy, Aaron. When did I ever know adversity?”
I give her a soft smile, simply because I don't really have a reply to that. I mean, she's not wrong. Growing up privileged like both of us did, we tend to have a bit of a skewed perspective on things like adversity. Clearly, given her life's experiences, Emily's view has changed. It’s fallen in line with something closer to reality.
“My point is that you're a fighter, Emily. Always have been – and quite obviously, still are.”
“Yeah well, sometimes you need to accept when you're beat,” she responds. “Anyway, I have another question.”
“Fire away.”
The warmth drains from her face, which tells me that whatever's on her mind is a little more serious. It makes me curious, since I have no idea where her train of thought has taken her.
“What happened with Martha?”
The change of direction in our conversation is so abrupt, she nearly gives me whiplash. It's a question I never actually anticipated her asking. She seemed so disinterested in it before. Now that she’s told me at least some answers of why we broke up – and insisted it had nothing to do with the Martha situation – my curiosity is piqued.
The fact that she's asking me about it now is interesting. And it makes me even more curious. Could it be that she's feeling something developing between us? And if so, is she asking because she's interested in exploring it? Or is she simply asking to satisfy some lingering question in her own mind?
“Are you asking if what she told you was true?”
“I am. I want you to look me in the eye and tell me the truth.”
The importance of the moment isn't lost on me. Emily is trying to come to a decision in her mind, and that includes whether or not she can trust me. I know that if I have any hope of getting her to open up to me and explore this growing feeling between us, I'm going to have to convince her. Here. Now.
Leaning forward over the table, I look deeply into her eyes and answer her in a voice that doesn't waver.
“Nothing happened between Martha and I, Emily,” I say. “I swear to you – she lied.”
Chapter Eighteen
Emily
The night is cold and overcast as I walk across the campus, heading for my dorm. I feel like I've been kicked in the stomach and I'm having trouble breathing. Tears roll down my face as I try to process the fact that my mom is dead. Gone. A woman who was so full of life and vibrancy is just – gone.
My dad said it was a car accident. I’m shaken and numb, still not able to believe it. His voice on the other end of the phone was rattling, like he didn’t know how to process it either. I don’t know what to do. She was my rock. She was always the one holding the family together.
“What are we going to do?” I’d asked my dad.
“Stay in school, Emily. Please. Do it for her,” my dad had said. “I promise, no matter what, we’ll get through this together.”
“Oh, well look who it is.”
I don't even have to look up to know who's speaking. It's Martha McDougal. Which means that Laura Turner is going to be with her. Those two are as inseparable as conjoined twins. They are sorority girls – I don't even pretend to know what the Greek letters are because frankly, I don't care.
