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“Both, for different reasons. Feeling semi responsible for their death hurts too much to think about, and the second is pretty obvious.” Her fingers fidget. “I wasn’t completely in love with Ryan. You know I like to control situations, but my guard was still down after my parents. You should know that.” I nod, and so does she, tilting her head. “I didn’t become fully vulnerable to him, but I started to share my past and said yes to our future.” Her stare penetrates me, and I feel every word. “I quickly realized how much power I gave him to use against me.” Her half-hearted smile pangs my gut. “I wanted a family unit that stayed together. For some reason, he was hellbent on proving it wouldn’t happen for me.” Clearing her throat, her eyes swing to the fire. My gut aches to heal her.
“Do you still want a family?” I’m not sure I want the honest answer.
“All I know is that I want to stay in control of my heart.”
“By?” I find myself leaning toward her.
“By not needing to rely on any man to make me happy. Justsated.” I take a long sip from my beer before she reaches forward, removing it from my hand. Emery downs half before she continues. “You can’t expect me to sober up after you made me blab about death and breakups.”
“Fair enough,” I reply. “What is the full reason you left without saying goodbye?”
“Pass.” She bites her lip, looking out at the lake as crickets sing away. I keep quiet, giving her another minute to ruminate on the question. Emery twists a loose strand of hair. “Your dad needed you. His heart attack consumed you, and I didn’t want to be your burden.” She switches and fiddles with my hoodie string around her finger. “Seeing him suffer made me grateful my parents didn’t.” I’m proud of how she’s talking through this. “But that was terrible for me to think about because I didn’t want to see your dad in that state either.” She bites her cheek with an expression saying she’s not finished. “I also didn’t trust myself around you.”
“I love my dad, but we know he did that to himself.” His health and self-care went downhill after my mother passed.
“And I begged my parents to leave work. Threw a whole fit to guilt trip them.” Her voice pitches as her emotions heighten. “I needed a fresh start.”
“It’s not fresh if the wound was still deep.” And that does it. I see her shutting down before she says a word.
“New topic.” She pulls her hood up and looks adorable. I wish I could squeeze her, but that would probably earn me a punch.
“What did you make tonight?”I run a hand through my hair, trying to calm myself.
“A stupid drink coaster.” Emery pulls out the square from her pocket. “This is proof that with enough alcohol, anyone can believe they are an artist.”
Laughing with her, I study the ceramic square she handed over. The hand drawn clock and the engraved words, ‘Don’t mess up my table,’ spike my interest.
“Don’t mess up my table.” I read out loud as Emery swallows. “That’s a good quote for a coaster, but why the clock?”
Her eyes drift to the empty bottle, then back to me. “Fine.” I stand up, walking to the outdoor fridge, and crack open a beer. “If you throw up again, I will be sending you a housekeeping invoice.”
“You’re not that big of an ass.”
“Why the clock, Daisy Girl?”
“After a long day of surgeries, my dad would always pour some of that fancy tequila around my bedtime.” She fiddles with the beer label as I watch her get lost in thought. “I would sit with him in his office with my glass of warm lemon water about twenty minutes before bed.” She smiles softly as the fire flames reflect in her eyes. “Back when Ihada bedtime, that moment was always special to me.” She sits up straighter as her face tightens, as if angered at the memory. “Time was made to catch up on our day. Back when I still needed my parents home to take care of me because I wasn’t old enough.”
I scoot a little closer. “I’m sure you went to bed late as you got older.”
“Which meant he’d just work longer hours, and I’d see him whenever.” That explains why she has a gloomy first kiss memory. “By thirteen, I was sometimes alone until ten at night, depending on their shifts. Friends would hang out, but of course, their parents wanted them home earlier because we had school.”
“I’m sorry.” I’m struggling to find the right words.
Emery takes a moment to lift the bottle to her lips. Instead of taking a drink, she sets it back down. “Anyway, he always got mad when I’d leave my glass on the wooden table, and would hand me a boring silver coaster.”
“So, you made the coaster in memory of him?”
“I made the coaster to please Hallie and Savannah. They have been on my ass for years to visit my parents.” Emery yawns, turning to sit in the corner of the couch. Her body is directly facing me as she brings up her legs and tucks the sweatshirt over her knees. “They want me to bring something to the gravesite. My parents can’t use the coaster, so it’s all irrelevant. You can keep it, for all I care.”
“I will keep it for when you’re ready to visit them,” I reply, not wanting to push boundaries. “You should visit once, for yourself. To say goodbye, or find peace.”
“You might be right.” Her answer takes me by surprise once more. “That time isnotnow.” She shakes her head. “They didn’t leave by choice.” Taking a deep breath, she holds the bottle out for me to take. She always dances around saying they died.
“Death happens, Emery. It sucks.”
“I’m aware.” I’m starting to annoy her. Good. A slight breakthrough for more emotion.
“Have you thought about therapy?” I watch her face and anticipate a lash out, but her brow furrows as if confused. “Maybe talking about the difficult stuff with a stranger would be easier than someone who knows you.”
