CHAPTER 13 - EMI
Which knight would I want? The one who’d pray to Mars, asking to win the battle so he could have me? Or the one who prayed to Venus, because he loved me so much? What did Emily say to Diana? If you have to give me to someone, give me to the one who loves me best.
Which one is it?
I turn the page, finally intrigued and wanting to get to the end. If Nate and I are going to the costume shop tomorrow, I need to be finished with the story so I know what all I need. Or he can just tell me the ending. He seems to know the story well.
Was that the doorbell? I set the book down and open my door, listening for the sound to happen a second time. I’m not sure I’ve ever even heard the doorbell at our new apartment. Was it?
I walk down the stairs, noting the darkness through the windows outside.
Looking through the peephole, I’m not surprised by who I see. I thought Chris and Mom were acting strangely before they left. This makes sense.
The doorbell rings again. “Go away!” I call out to my father.
“Emi, honey, I’m not leaving until you open up.”
“Well, then, get comfortable.” I stomp away, hoping he can hear the aggression in my steps as I walk up the stairs. The front door opens behind me. “You can’t come in!”
“Your sister let me borrow her key.”
“I don’t want you here! Get out!”
“Emily, come down here and talk to me.”
“No!”
“I brought you dessert. It’s your favorite,” he says as I make it up to my room.
I smile sweetly, pretending like he’s won me over. He can still see me from the bottom of the staircase. “What is it, Dad? Chocolate cake from Marie’s?”
“Yes, it is.” He smiles proudly, as if he’s the greatest dad in the world for bringing me something to eat.
“Well, stick it up your ass, Dad, because I don’t like that anymore and I don’t want you here!”
“Emily Clara Hennigan, you get down here right now. You will not talk to me like that.”
“I will... and I did.” I shut my door, for the first time realizing there’s no lock on it. All of my furniture is too heavy and permanent to move in front of the door, so I sit against it, locking my knees and lodging my legs against the dresser. I hear him coming up the stairs. “I’ll call the police! You can’t be here! This isn’t your house!” I wish I had the cordless phone near me. It sits across the room, next to my pillow.
“I have permission to be here. Your mother asked me to come.” He attempts to open my door, but I put all of my weight against it, which isn’t much compared to him. I can tell he’s not trying too hard, because I have no doubt he could open it if he wanted to. As I listen intently, I hear him settling behind the door. “I’ll just have the cake right here,” he says, his voice at a regular speaking volume.
“Fine, I don’t want it.” He actually does start eating it. I’m sure he thinks it will lure me out, but he’s ruined chocolate for me. He’s ruined everything. Ten minutes go by without words being exchanged. I decide to get up and grab my book, returning to the door to make sure he doesn’t come in.
“Doing homework?” he finally asks.
“Yep.”
“Anything I can help you with?”
“Nope.”
“What is it?”
“I’m reading the Canterbury Tales.”
“Don’t think I’ve read that one,” he says.
“Maybe you should have,” I counter. “This knight seems to be a nice, upstanding man... respectful of the people around him. You could have learned something.”
“I don’t expect you to understand this, honey.”
“Good.”
“But I want to talk to you about it. I want you to try.”
“Why does Mom get to talk to you through a lawyer? Why don’t I get to do that?”
“Because you and I aren’t the ones getting a divorce.”
“Well, I want that,” I tell him. “What’s the father-daughter equivalent?”
“There isn’t one. And if there was, I wouldn’t let you.”
“What about emancipation? That’s a thing, right?”
“If you want to hurt your mother even more, sure. We can talk about that.” Of course I don’t. I don’t respond to him, and eventually open my book back up. I read the same sentence about twenty times before he continues. “Emi, please open the door.”
“I don’t want to see you.”
“That’s fair, Emi. That’s perfectly acceptable for you to feel that way. But I’m your father, and you’re going to have to see me. You and I have some things to work out.”
“If we can’t work them out, can I not see you anymore?” I can make sure we never work things out.
“Sure, Emi. I won’t let that happen, so sure. Open up?”
“You can’t come in,” I make one more condition.
“That’s fine.” I finally stand up and open the door. He’s seated in a folding chair he must have grabbed from Chris’ room. “I wish I could hug you,” he says.
“I wish I could trust you,” I say back to him, sitting on my pillow with my back against the wall, as far away as I can get from him.
“Everything I tell you tonight, Emi, is going to be the truth. You should be able to trust me. I don’t think you’ll like everything I have to say, but I want to be honest with you. You’re sixteen. You’re our baby, but you don’t need us to censor what this is for you. I don’t think I handled it right the first time around.”
I stare at him coldly, waiting.
“I don’t want you to think that I’ve been living some great lie for the last twenty-four years. I loved your mother. I still love her–”
“Love is complicated, blah blah blah,” I interrupt him. “You already told me that. It’s a cop-out.”
“It’s just not a black and white situation, honey. I have the utmost respect for your mom–”
“That’s why you cheated on her.”
“Emily, I need you to let me talk. I never meant to ruin your life,” he says, becoming so overwhelmed with tears that he can barely get the words out. I’ve never seen him cry. “I have to think there’s some way for me to fix it.”
I start to feel my own throat tighten up at the sight of him crying, but I don’t want to let him know. I clench my teeth and dig my fingernails into the back of my hand until it hurts. “You can fix it by getting back with mom,” I say.
He shakes his head. “I am in love with another woman, Emi. I love her. I have a connection with her–”
“Gross, Dad. Just save it–”
“An emotional connection, honey, that I’ve never felt with anyone else. Ever. I never knew it was something I could even have. But now that I’ve experienced it, I don’t want to be without it.”
“You didn’t even try to have it with Mom, though.”
“It’s not something you ‘try to have,’ honey. It’s either there, or it’s not. And with your mother, it’s not there.”
“She thinks it is,” I argue with him.
“I don’t think she knows this feeling,” he says plainly. “I know we didn’t have it, though, Emi.”
“You could go to counseling, Dad,” I tell him. “They could help fix this.”
“You’re not listening to me, Emi. Me getting back with your mother is not going to ‘fix’ anything. It will make me unhappy. It will make your mother unhappy. You kids will be in the middle... it’s not a good example I want to set for you.”
“But divorcing is?”
“Not divorcing, Emi.”
“Cheating?”
“Certainly not cheating. I should have done everything differently, Emi. I should have told your mother first, as soon as I developed feelings for Elai–”
“I don’t want to hear her name.”
He clears his throat. “Elaine,” he says anyway. “I’m not censoring anything, honey. I already told you that. I regret not doing that. I hate that you were the one to discover us. That’s why I think it’s the hardest on you. I wish that never had happened.”
“What if it hadn’t, Dad? Would you still be with Mom? Would I still be living in the house, and not this tiny apartment?”
“You can come back and live with me anytime.”
“And Elaine?”
“Yes.”
“Never,” I tell him.
“And to answer your question,” he continues, seeming to ignore my petulance, “I was planning to tell your mother after the holidays. I know how much she loves Christmas, and I didn’t want to ruin that time of year for her. So if you hadn’t found out about us, she would know by now. I never wanted to hurt her. I care about her.”
“If you cared so much, you wouldn’t have done all of this behind her back.”
“Honey, there’s not protocol for falling in love with someone. There’s no game plan to tell you when it’s appropriate to do certain things, say other things. I’ve never done this before. I don’t expect to ever do it again,” he says.
“But who can say? Maybe you’ll have an even greater emotional connection with someone else later!”
“I wish I could explain to you how this feels. But I don’t think words do it justice. And I don’t think you could truly understand until you feel it yourself some day. And I hope you’re lucky enough to. Just like I hope your mom is lucky enough to someday.”
“Stop acting like you care.”
“I do care,” he says quickly. “We had some wonderful years together, most of them revolving around you and Jen and Chris. You’re the best things that happened to either of us. And we were obviously supposed to be together to bring you three into this world. Watching you grow up has been the greatest joy of my life. I regret nothing when it comes to your mom. I just wish I felt this way about her. And I feel like you kids are old enough now to be able to accept this.”
“I’ll never accept this, Dad. You were my Daddy. You were everything to me. All I ever wanted to do was to make you proud of me.”
“You’ll always be Daddy’s little girl–”
“No! I won’t! For one, that little girl is gone. Her world crumbled right in front of her in the middle of a freaking chain restaurant on Main Street. You showed me what ugliness is. You stole my rose-colored glasses, Dad. And I want them back. I want that world back,” I start to cry. “I want to be able to come home from a bad day and get one of your bear hugs that makes me feel so safe and loved that I know I can face anything. But I can’t have that anymore. Because the thing I can’t face now is you! No one can make that better. I can’t feel better anymore. I have no one to fill that role.”
He’s still got tears in his eyes when he stands up and holds his arms out. “Let me try.”
“No,” I tell him softly. “I don’t have a daddy anymore,” I cry. “Just a father. A father that I really don’t want to see anymore.”
He drops his arms and nods. “I love you, Emily. You’re my baby girl. And I’m not giving up.” He picks up the chair and takes it back to my brother’s room. “But I’ll leave you to your homework tonight. Your mom will be home soon, and she doesn’t want to see me.”
“That makes two of us.” I can barely force the words out. I know how hurtful they are. Saying them makes me cry even harder, to the point that my father is just a blur as he descends the steps. I hear the front door close and lock, and then there’s silence again.
When I finally can breathe normally, I try to call two of my closest friends back home. Neither Casey nor Rebecca answer, and I assume they’re together, at rehearsal. I stare back down at the phone and scan through the recent calls in the caller ID. Donna Wilson. I hit the call button and pray that Nate will answer. He doesn’t. Instead, a recording requests me to leave a message. I consider hanging up, but I think he’ll call me back. I think he might actually care about me.
“Nate, it’s Emi,” I say, unable to stave off the tears. “I just needed to talk to someone.” My voice is almost a tiny squeak, and I suddenly wish I hadn’t decided to leave a message. I clear my throat. “If you’re not too busy, can you call me?” I hang up before the sobs erupt again.
Chris comes to check on me when he gets home. I haven’t moved an inch, still curled up on my bed, cradling the phone, the pillow soaked with tears.
“Wanna talk?” he asks. I shake my head. “If you change your mind–”
“I know, you’re three feet away,” I say sarcastically. “I’m going to sleep.”
Mom stops in and kisses me on the forehead, apologizing quietly in my ear. “We’ll get through this.” I start crying again, wishing I could stop. My head hurts and I just want to sleep. After an hour, my eyes heavy, I finally put the phone back on its dock and crawl under the covers.
At lunch the next day, Chris and I both catch up on homework that didn’t get done the previous night. I finish my portion of the book, and have my list ready for the costume shop. I’ve been looking forward to my after-school plans all day. They’ve kept my mind off my dad, thankfully.
I feel a little nervous, though, seeing Nate. I wonder why he never called me back last night. Maybe he doesn’t care as much as I thought he did. Maybe he thinks I’m a complete freak. Maybe his mom hates me, and didn’t give him the message. I just hope it’s not awkward in art class. The first bell rings, and Chris and I both pack up our books.
“Remember that I don’t need a ride after school,” I tell him, starting to walk out of the cafeteria.
“Remember I vetoed him!” he calls out to me. I turn around, curious.
“No you didn’t.”
“The first guy you met. I told you I would.”
“And I told you it was a waste,” I respond, shrugging my shoulders. “We’re just going to get props for class. We’re just friends. So veto him all you want, I don’t care.”
He smiles mischievously at me. “Call if you’re going to be later than seven. Don’t make Mom worry.”
“Fine.” As I walk to art, I look around at the students passing me, looking at all the guys with a critical eye. If I had any desire to have a boyfriend, Chris really did waste that veto. Nate’s harmless compared to most of these guys. I can see it in their eyes.
I’d grown used to the smell of leather and tobacco, and miss it ten minutes into class. He was that late the first day, so maybe he just got tied up. Surely he’ll be here. We have plans. I concentrate on inking the letters, using a light box that had been collecting dust in a back closet. Mrs. Martin was happy to see someone using it. I’m glad she has it, even though the bright light and the smell of ink are making my still-lingering headache worse.
And Nate never shows up. I consider asking our teacher if she’s heard anything, but I don’t. I just hope I can catch Chris before he leaves, or else I’ll have to walk home.
What if he’s avoiding me? What if I’m the reason he didn’t come? Because he felt I was too needy, and he wanted some distance? I feel so stupid, and find it impossible to concentrate on any of the lectures the rest of the day.
In gym, we’re doing sprints. At least for short bursts of time, my focus is on not falling flat on my face in front of everyone. Somehow, I actually win a couple of rounds, and some of the girls are congratulating me. Some are actually friendly. By the last half-hour, I’m chastising myself for worrying so much about him. He’s just a guy I met Friday. Why do I care?
Because I thought he did.
In the locker room, I hurry to get dressed so I can attempt to find Chris. I shouldn’t have taken a shower. What’s the point, if I’m just going home anyway?
“Thanks, Misty, for letting someone else have a shot with him.” A girl’s voice echoes through the room. “He’s everything you said he’d be.”
“I don’t lie about that,” another girl says. I peek from behind my locker and see the two girls that had been in the hallway with Nate on Friday. I listen more intently, realizing they know Nate and remembering the visceral reaction he had to this Misty girl when she kissed that other guy in front of him. “In fact, I’m having second thoughts about dumping him. Clark’s tiny compared to him. Sometimes I’m not even sure he’s in.” I look away quickly, embarrassed to be overhearing this conversation. Surely they’re not talking about Nate.
“Who wouldn’t be?” the other girl says. “He’s huge!”
“And I taught him everything he knows,” Misty brags. “Are you gonna see him again?”
“I hope. He didn’t come to school today, though. Maybe I wore him out,” she says with a laugh.
“Doubtful,” Misty says. “He’s insatiable.”
I sit down on the bench to put my shoes back on, all the air in my lungs rushing to get out. Did he sleep with that girl? He didn’t even mention he was interested in anyone. There’s no way he slept with her. I glance at both of the girls once more, watching the one who’s not Misty as she alternates between smacking her gum and applying lipstick. Her ratty blonde hair makes her look a little slutty. But I don’t think he’s like that.
I take a deep breath, feeling certain it’s just a coincidence. When I put my watch on, I realize the bell must have rung already, signaling the end of class. I grab my backpack and slam my locker door, walking quickly past the girls, keeping my eyes averted.
Running through the halls after the final bell, I find my brother at his locker. “Hey, I need a ride home after all. He wasn’t here.”
“See? Already he’s completely unreliable,” Chris comments, arranging some books in his locker.
“Or, he’s sick,” I defend my friend.
“Already making excuses for him.”
“Shut up,” I say with a slight laugh. I still hear the two girls in my head, and it still bothers me. “You have homework?” I ask him in an effort to get my mind off of him.
“Physics and Chemistry,” he says, shutting his locker and heading toward the exit. “They like homework here.”
“That’s what you get for taking all the advanced classes. If you weren’t such an overachiever, you’d have some free time, like I do.”
“You should apply yourself more,” he says.
“The way I see it, I’m just right. You’re the brain, Jen’s the partier... and I’m somewhere in the middle. We all have our place.” I smile up at him as he shakes his head in disapproval of my answer.
“Need me to take you to the prop shop?” he asks as we enter the parking lot gates.
“I don’t know,” I answer. “I can probably just throw some stuff together. I was really going to help him find things.” Really, I’d asked him to take me so we could have some time together. I like spending time with him. He makes me feel normal. He makes me feel happy.
An obnoxious dark-green sports car revs its engine beside me as Chris tries to say something. I try to outpace it, but the driver is keeping up with me. I glare at him to show my general disapproval.
“Hey,” Nate says, rolling down the window all the way.
“Hey,” I return, curious. “What are you doing here?”
“I thought we were going to the costume place. Wasn’t that today?”
“You weren’t here,” I shrug. “I figured you were sick.”
“Is that your car?” Chris asks him. Nate simply nods. “That’s a 355, right?”
“Yeah,” Nate says, this time with a proud grin.
“You have no idea how much I’d love to drive one of those someday.”
“Probably as much as I did before I got it,” Nate says. “It’s amazing.”
“I bet.”
“We’ll go for a spin sometime,” Nate offers. “But I promised your sister a ride to the city first. Maybe this weekend?”
“Should I tell him now you vetoed him?” I whisper to Chris. “Or wait until after the weekend?”
He laughs a little. “That would be awesome,” my brother says. “If you wouldn’t mind.”
“Not at all.”
“So, I guess I don’t need a ride after all,” I tell him, snapping in front of his face to get his attention. “Tell Mom I’ll be home later?”
“Yeah,” he says. “Wear your seatbelt,” he mumbles to me. “That thing can go fast.”
“I will.” I walk around to the passenger side and get in.
“We’ll see you later,” Nate says to my brother.
“Hey, uh,” he says. “Be careful, she’s my little sister.”
“I’ll drive the speed limit,” Nate says. “Scout’s honor.” He revs the engine once more, now looking at me. “Seatbelt?”
“Right. How fast can this thing go?” I pull the belt over my lap and buckle it.
“One-eighty?” he says. “Although I doubt I’ll ever be able to prove that.”
“Not with me in the car,” I tell him. “One-twenty’s my limit.”
“Oh, is it?” he laughs, pulling out of the lot. “In your brother’s Pontiac?”
I glare at him, noting the cute smile on his face. Once we’re on the road, I’m surprised at how quiet the car actually is. Nate’s listening to Nirvana, marking time with his index finger on the gearshift. “Tell me about last night,” he says, turning the volume down.
“You got that message?”
“Yeah, but it was too late to call. I thought about it, but I didn’t want to wake your mom.”
“Next time, go ahead. Maybe she’ll eventually get me my own phone line.”
“You can work that out with her,” he says. “I think I’m already on her bad side. So, what happened?”
“Dad came over to talk to me. He tried to justify everything...” I remember him standing at my door, waiting for me to hug him. The look on his face when I didn’t makes my heart hurt. “It just didn’t go well.”
“I’m sorry, Emi. How are you feeling today?”
“Tired,” I answer.
“About your dad...”
“Tired of it.” He nods his head with a sympathetic expression. “Let’s talk about something else. Where were you today?”
“At home.”
“Painting?”
“Anything but,” he answers. “But I think I’m close with your eye color. I worked on it after school yesterday... it’s gotta be close.”
“I’d love to see it. So if you didn’t paint, what’d you do today?”
“Slept, mainly,” he answers. “I needed it.”
“Late night?” I ask him, remembering Misty – and more importantly, the blonde girl.
“Yeah. A lot of pent up energy...”
“So you painted last night?”
“Not much.”
“What’d you do?”
“Went for a drive,” he answers. “Nothing in particular.”
“Cool,” I say, unsure if I should say anything. I don’t think he’d care if I asked, but I think his answer might change my opinion of him. Why it matters to me, I’m not sure. As intriguing as he is, I still don’t want a boyfriend. I really just want a friend. I want a good friend, though, someone who knows me as well as I know myself. I find it so easy to talk to him. I really think he could be that friend. “So I finished the Knight’s Tale at lunch.”
“Were you happy with Emily’s fate?”
“Fate’s a good word,” I say. “I think she got the right guy in the end, but what a horrible thing to suffer through. Finally finding the man who can win over her heart, accepting his affections after all her doubt, and he dies. That sucked. I think, had she had a choice herself, she would have picked Palamon over Arcite.”
“You think?”
“He prayed to Venus. I think he loved her more.”
“But Arcite prayed to Mars... the rule was, the winner of the battle won Emily. The rule wasn’t who loved her best. And who’s to say Arcite didn’t? He just prayed to the god who would help him win the battle... to be the rightful suitor. To win, fair and square.”
“I don’t know. I hate to think something like war determines a woman’s husband.”
“I think it’s romantic, that a man would fight for a woman. What was it that the knight said?”
I find my book in my backpack and read one of the lines that was already highlighted in the book. “To fight for a fair lady,” I answer him, “that is the height of bliss.”
“And that it’s the meaning of knighthood, right?”
“That’s what he said. So you’d fight for a girl?”
“I hope to meet a girl someday that I would do absolutely anything for.”
“You haven’t yet?”
“I’m not sure,” he answers, a distant look in his eyes.
“Nate, what was the girl’s name that you dated? The one that broke up with you.”
“Why? I certainly wouldn’t do anything for her.”
“No, I was just wondering if she was in any of my classes. I could see what type of girl you go for.”
“She’s a sophomore, so I don’t think you’d have any classes with her. And I don’t think I’d necessarily peg her as my type. She had something to offer that I wanted at the time.”
“Her name...” I press him.
“It was Misty,” he finally says casually. I get that distinct feeling of being punched in the stomach for the second time today. I pull my knees toward my chest, wrapping my arms around my legs. I don’t even care that my boots are on his tan leather seats. F*ck his stupid leather seats. “You okay?” he asks. I never was good at hiding my feelings.
“Is she that girl that was kissing that guy across from your locker the other day?”
He glances at me with a look of surprise. “Yeah,” he answers.
“And who was that other girl? The blonde one next to you.”
“Just some girl named Lauren. No one special.”
“Cool,” I say, realizing my teeth are clinched so tightly that the word sounds funny. “Yeah, I’m in gym with them.” I watch his reaction, seeing him swallow hard and blink nervously.
“Yeah?” he asks, his eyes focused on the road.
“Yeah,” I say. “The good news is, I think I got confirmation in the locker room today that smoking hasn’t stunted your growth... anywhere.”