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Nineteen
Then
From: Emilia Bonacci
To: Emilia Bonacci
Subject: I want my life back!
It’s been a week since it happened. Since dad told me he was sending me away, and worst, since Anthony attacked Blaine and tore us apart. Dad refused to let me out of the house until he could get me onto a plane. I’m in Pennsylvania at Aunt Pina’s Place now.
Even at my aunt’s, everyone who visits, especially other relatives, keeps giving me these glares. Aunt Pina looks at me like I’ve ruined the family name. Maybe I have. People here barely talk to me, not that I want them to, but okay, I get it, they’re all judging me. Can they just let it go already?
I still haven’t heard from Blaine. Does he not love me anymore? I can’t blame him after what Anthony did. Oh God, I can’t stop thinking about that night, and the blood, and I feel so guilty. Dad took my phone away and gave me a new one with a new number. I didn’t memorize Blaine’s number. I wish I had. The only thing I can do is email him. And I did that the moment I got my new phone. I even tried to call his parents through a landline number I found in a local directory. It’s been five days and still nothing. All I can do is keep trying.
I don’t understand. This can’t be the rest of my life from now on, can it? The only other time I’ve felt worse than this is that day when mom had her stroke on the drive home from school. I still remember the car crumpling around the tree. I cried sitting on the curb. I cried every day for months after because, even at thirteen, I knew life would never be the same. I can’t believe it’s been five years already. I still feel just as helpless.
My dad and Anthony got what they wanted, and now everythinghurts. My head hurts all the time because I can’t stop the tears, and my heart… I’m losing yet another person who means the world to me, and I feel like my heart might just give up altogether. I know my dad hasn’t been the same since Mom died, but she would never have let this happen. She would never have sent me away. Does he really think he’s fooling anyone into believing he’s okay? Besides, her dying hurt me too. Can’t he see that?
I want my life back. I want Blaine back. Please don’t let this be all that’s left for me.
Emilia shifted in her seat at the bar, her focus trained on the orange-vodka drink in her hand, the sweet-astringency having long lost all appeal. She still waited to speak with Sarah. Every time the woman approached, all Emilia could muster was a weak nod in a silent request for yet another drink.
Pathetic. Truly pathetic!
She was on her fourth drink now, and as a general non-drinker, her movements were getting clumsy and slow, the glass against her palm uncomfortably cold and wet.
She drummed her fingers on the bar and released an overly loud sigh. Perhaps she should just head home. Did she need to be the one to tell Sarah? Maybe she could insist Blaine do that. Then again, maybe she should take some time to sober up first. A few more minutes, or knowing her, a few hours. Oh heck, she was never going home.
A panicked laugh burst from her lips. The few people around her turned, expressions pinched in probable confusion or annoyance.
Okay, so maybe she was stuck here regardless of how much she didn’t want to be. Maybe she could make use of her time and talk to Sarah, anyway.
How would she start? “Hi Sarah, are you really Blaine’s fiancée? Gee, I hope not, cos, well, last night we kinda sorta kissed, and then he slept over.”
Another manic and, this time, pitchy laugh broke free. More people turned, and she shuddered in an attempt to shake off her current spate of involuntary actions, almost knocking over her boozey juice in the process.
Oh, what a slew of consequences she’d woken up to today. There’d been the forgotten catch-up with Ally. A catch-up meant for discussing the soiree, only for that to get swept away with the whole pushing Blaine out the door debacle, and having to deal with the notion that another woman’s relationship lay in ruins. Then there was the issue of Emilia’s now questionable reputation in this town… and her sobriety…
Sheesh! What had she done?
“Seems like you’re struggling to finish that one.” Sarah stood at the opposite side of the bar and nodded toward Emilia’s mostly untouched drink. “Want me to take it away?”
Emilia pushed her glass forward, her ribcage suddenly refusing to make room for much breath. “I swear, I don’t usually drink.”
Sarah gave a light laugh and leaned in, resting her elbows on the bar, her flaxen locks skimming her toned and tanned shoulders. “You’ll get no shame from me. We have some serious heavy hitters around here, and you’re nowhere near one. My best guess, though, you’ve got something playing on your mind. Am I right?”
Emilia shook her head, and her booze-addled brain made her wobble slightly in response. Fiddlesticks! This was her chance to say something, to help this woman maybe escape one huge life mistake, and Emilia simply couldn’t find her words.
She’d watched Sarah flit from one patron to another, making easy banter that made grown men nearly fall apart with laughter. Her personality sparkled amidst the busy setting. The woman exuded confidence, while Emilia never had.
“No. Ahh… I’m fine. It’s just been a crazy twenty-four hours.” She forced a taut smile and went about drawing circles on the countertop with her forefinger, paying way too much mind to the minute bumps in the treacle-colored woodgrain.
“It’s the middle of the day, and you’re here alone getting messy on vodka and orange.” Sarah’s scoff brought Emilia’s focus back to the woman’s amber-green eyes and her barely hidden grin. “Now you’re just insulting my intelligence.”
Emilia’s heart palpitated, and she rubbed the heel of her hand over her sternum, trying to erase queasiness filling every corner of her torso. “No! No! That’s the last thing I would do. And I’m not ‘messy,’ I’m just… just a little unpracticed in the art of drinking. Besides, you’re the one who picked my drink.”
Sarah barked out a laugh, her demeanor easy and controlled, and she pushed a glass of water Emilia’s way. “Yeah, because you took too long deciding. And if the drink was so bad, why did you order three more?”
