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“Hi, Taylor.”
I look down at the cake. “Mind if I do?”
“It’s my mom’s special,” Emmerson says.
That brings back more memories. Everything reminds me of her as it is, I don’t need cake adding to the ever-growing list. It’s been years since she was sitting in this new space. Granted, it looks a little different now, but it’s a strange thing that tugs at my heartstrings at seeing her here. It looks to appear that they’ve been having tea and catching up on old times.
I swipe a piece of cake and shove half of it into my mouth while mom gets up to make me a coffee without asking if I want one.
I can’t help but be tentative with Emmerson. I don’t know what she expects from me, in all honesty. I need time to adjust to her being in the same city as me, breathing the same air and all of that. It’s a weird thing for me. Almost a hard limit.
I’ve got to rein my head in. This isn’t like old times.
Everything has changed since then; I would do well to remember that fact.
“So, who were you guys talking about just now? Not little old me, was it?”
I see Emmerson smile a little in her periphery.
“Just about you and the game,” Mom says. “And your Father.”
I shoot her a look.Mom, don’t go there right now.
She’s been very insistent on me reconnecting with my dad. I don’t know why she cares after all these years, I mean, they sort of stayed in touch when I was growing up, but it’s not like they get together or anything or even talk.
I glance at Emmerson, she’s drinking her tea quietly and looking slightly uncomfortable. A second later, she slides down off the stool.
“I’d better get going,” she says, rubbing mom’s arm.
“Thank you for coming over, Em,” Mom says warmly. “And for the banana bread. We’ll talk before you go back to Florida?”
“I’d like that.” Emmerson nods.
It’s obvious they have been talking about something they don’t want me to know, but hey, sometimes it’s probably best I don’t.“I’ll walk you out,” I tell her as mom finishes making my coffee.
Emmerson seems a little nervous, but she nods. “Bye, Gillian. I’ll talk to you later.”
“Bye, honey.”
They seem awfully chummy for two people who haven’t spoken properly in years. Typical, give my mom five minutes and she’s roped Emmerson into the kitchen for some kind of tea and cake situation I’m not bevy to.
I follow Emmerson down the hallway to the front door.
“We still on for tonight?” I ask her.
She turns to me as she gets to the door and pushes it open. “Yeah.” She nods.
She seems different from the other night. I don’t know if it’s just because she’s here in my childhood home and now I’ve shown up… or were they talking about something that has upset her? I don’t know what to make of it, but I know something is up.
“All right, I’ll meet you there, if that’s okay. I’d pick you up, but I’m coming straight from practice.”
“It’s fine. I can use my mom’s car.”
I lean on the doorway, edging the door open with my shoe. “I’m glad you came the other night,” I say, surprising myself with my honesty.
I swear to God, I have no filter around her anymore, despite my earlier stance on keeping my distance.
“It was amazing to see you playing in your Hawks’ kit.”
