13. Overreaction
I snuck out of the guest room before Evan woke. I could hear whispers and movement further down the hall, although it was barely dawn. I suspected there was a need to escape before the sun shed too much light on faces that didn’t want to be seen.
I found a few girls searching through the basket of clothes that were pulled from the dryer, picking out items that belonged to them, stuffing them in their overnight bags.
“Emma,” a petite blonde beckoned. “Could you get us our keys and phones so we can go?”
“Sure,” I answered. I took out the bag that we’d hidden in the back of the hall closet and started laying out the Ziploc bags labeled with each person’s name. They took their possessions and left. Most of the girls and a few of the guys were gone by the time Sara dragged her feet down the stairs, looking like she was still in need of a few more hours of sleep.
“Whatcha doin’?” she asked, stretching her arms with her hair twisted in a pile on the top of her head.
I tied up a trash bag filled with cups, bottles, and stale chips and set it next to another full bag. She looked around. The kitchen was beginning to resemble itself again since I’d already peeled back a layer of party leftovers.
“Thanks for picking up.” She sat down on a stool, rubbing her palms over her eyes. “The cleaners are coming around noon, so we don’t have to go crazy.”
“How are you feeling?” I sat down next to her.
She propped her head up on her hand and yawned wide. “Tired. You?”
“Tired,” I concurred. “Almost everyone’s gone. I think there are a few guys sleeping on lawn chairs by the pool, a few more on the couches. Mandy, Casey and Jill are upstairs in the rec room.”
“Alone?” she stressed.
“Kyle may be up there too, but Jill was luggage last night, so I don’t think you have anything to worry about.”
She groaned, “I hope not,” then collapsed her head into her arms, “I think my head is going to fall off.”
I smiled. “Are you going to tell me what happened between you and Jared last night?”
“No,” she answered, her voice muffled from within her arms.
“What?” I shot back. “You want me to tell you everything.”
“But you don’t,” she retorted, lifting her head up. “Honestly, we just passed out.”
“And now what?” I pushed.
The tiredness shed from her eyes with the emergence of a smile. She lifted her shoulders in a knowing shrug. I knew exactly what that meant.
“Looks like you’ll be putting some miles on your car, huh?”
“Yup,” she beamed.
“So, just like that?” I asked curiously. “He shows up at your party, and that’s all he needed to do?”
“Not exactly,” she confessed guiltily.
I waited for her to continue.
“He wanted to keep seeing me after New Year’s.” I raised my eyebrows at this revelation. “I just couldn’t see it working out. But he called and emailed a couple of times trying to convince me. Then he stopped, and that’s pretty much when I became a stupid girl. So when he showed up last night…” She paused and grinned, “I knew I couldn’t say no again. You’re right. I have to at least try.”
“Good morning,” Evan said from behind us. “Wow, we have some work to do before we leave, huh? Sara, what time’s your flight?”
“Three,” she answered, sliding off the stool to begin tearing the hearts off of the wall. She was heading to Florida for February break, and Evan had skiing plans in Tahoe with the California guys―leaving me alone in Weslyn. They had both invited me to go, but I felt I should spend the week with my mother, since that was the point of moving in with her in the first place.
“Do you want a ride? My flight’s at three-fifty.” He came up behind me to wrap his arms around my shoulders, kissing me on the top of my head.
“That’d be great,” she agreed. “Except, my parents aren’t coming back until Sunday.”
“I thought you were too?” I questioned.
“Umm… no,” she answered with a smirk.
“I’ll pick you up on Friday,” Jared’s voice answered before he came into view on the stairs. Of course. It all made sense now.
“Perfect,” Sara replied, color returning to her face and her hangover miraculously disappearing.
Jared and Evan woke the rest of the guys. A few helped put the pool furniture back in place, but the other pale, grumbling faces took their possessions and dragged themselves out the door.
The girls slunk down the steps once Sara turned on the music. If she was up then everyone else had to be too. Aspirin and sodas were passed around as we tackled the repercussions of throwing a party. I stepped in something wet on the carpet in the family room in my bare feet, and every inch of me shuddered. I wouldn’t even let myself think about what it might be.
When the cleaning ladies showed up, the house was stripped of the anti-V-day décor, but the aftereffects still lingered in the air, which was apparent when they scrunched their noses upon entering. Sara left them a huge tip before we headed out for breakfast.
“I still owe you a Valentine’s Day,” Evan stated in the car, after I’d stuffed my face with way too many blueberry pancakes.
“No you don’t,” I replied honestly. “I don’t think anything will be able to top last night. It was pretty great.”
“It was,” he agreed, pulling down my street. “But would you be interested in going on a normal date? You know, adventure-less? Dinner, movies or something?”
I grinned at the thought of the two of us in a restaurant and nodded. “That would be nice.”
“After I get back,” Evan promised, turning into the driveway.
I only half heard him because I was staring at the cheerful yellow house, fearful of what awaited me after my mother's distraught phone call.
“Are you okay?” Evan asked from beside me.
“Huh?” I answered, pulling my eyes away to look at him.
“Is everything all right between you and Rachel? You were really upset last night.”
“I just felt bad that I worried her, that’s all. Just a miscommunication,” I explained lightly, not wanting him to hear the guilt beneath the sugar coating. “We’re fine.” When he didn’t look convinced, I insisted with a smile, “Really.”
“You’d tell me, right?” Evan looked into my eyes, trying to read the truth. I blinked away, skirting my eyes to the floor.
“Of course,” I answered, opening the door. I leaned over and pressed my lips to his, begging him to believe me. “Have fun in Tahoe with the guys. I’ll see you on Sunday.”
He pulled me toward him and gave me a kiss that would be sure to tide us over for the entire week. Barely able to stand, I staggered toward the door―turning once to wave before he backed out of the driveway.
I took a deep breath, sobering instantly when I clasped the cold door handle. I pushed it open with my pulse racing, not sure what was about to happen. I quietly shut the door behind me, and froze when I heard laughter coming from the kitchen. Not at all what I was expecting.
“Emma,” Rachel exclaimed still giggling from within the kitchen. “How was the party?”
The radio playing in the background was suddenly cut off by the high pitched sounds of a blender.
“Don’t let it get too thin,” my mother instructed. I walked to the doorway to find the counters covered in food in different stages of preparation. Tomatoes were diced on a cutting board; garlic skins littered the table; lime slices lay squeezed and abandoned, and the entire kitchen smelled of cilantro and jalapenos.
“Hi,” I greeted hesitantly.
“Hey,” Jonathan smiled, appearing completely relaxed. “We’re umm…”
“Preparing for Margarita Call Out of Work Day,” my mother explained. That’s when it struck me that they were supposed to be at work, it being Monday. “We’re going to Heidi’s to play cards and pretend we’re in Mexico.”
“Oh,” I responded, thrown by her exuberant disposition. “Sounds fun.”
“Yes it does,” she answered excitedly. “I figured Jonathan could handle making salsa.” She examined the contents of the blender, “Maybe I was wrong. Sweetie, just go start packing the bag, and I’ll fix this, okay?” She kissed him on the cheek when he grimaced apologetically.
“He can't cook either," she explained with a comical shake of her head. "So, how was the party?” she asked again once Jonathan had passed me to get a bag out of the coat closet.
“It was fun,” I answered, wondering if I’d dreamt the phone call. “But I didn’t get a lot of sleep. I think I’m going to crash for a while.”
“That happens―means it was a great party.” She smirked knowingly. I hesitated, examining her. She looked perfectly fine, not at all devastated as she was on the phone last night.
"What?" she questioned when I lingered too long.
“Have fun in Margaritaville,” I offered with a smile.
She laughed at my reference and declared, “Oh, we will.”
“Where are the mixers we bought?” Jonathan hollered from the living room, placing bottles and glasses into a re-usable shopping bag.
“Upstairs in my room,” my mother responded. Jonathan was a few steps behind me as I dragged my body up the stairs.
“Hey,” he beckoned lowly before I could enter my room. I turned to face him. “How are you?” That one question, combined with the anticipatory look in his eyes, confirmed I hadn’t imagined anything.
“Confused,” I answered honestly, opening my door.
“I don’t think she remembers,” he explained. “I kinda screwed up last night, so she took it out on you. My fault, and I’m sorry.”
“What do you mean?” I asked, the confusion still looming.
“I mentioned that I hadn’t slept at my place in a while, and that I should probably stay there a few nights this week.” He hesitated before admitting, “It wasn’t the best thing to say on Valentine’s Day.”
I pressed my lips together and shook my head. “She thought you were breaking up with her, didn’t she?”
Jonathan sighed and nodded. “We talked it over this morning, and she understands. So I won’t be over much this week. I just need to… breathe a little I guess.”
His choice of words alarmed me. I suddenly understood my mother’s distress. “Wait. Are you breaking up with her?”
“No,” he shook his head adamantly. “She and I are having a lot of fun together, honestly.” He was about to say something else when my mother interrupted from the kitchen, “Did you find them?”
Jonathan looked at me and then down to the kitchen. “I found them,” he lied, not making a move for her door. Then he returned to me and quickly said, “I just wanted to explain if you didn’t see me around for a bit. I’m still here; I just need to back off a little.” Then he went down the stairs and into the living room.
I backed into my bedroom when my mother came into sight carrying a sealed glass container of salsa. I realized he’d never intended to get anything from her room; he just wanted to check in on me, to explain things. He hadn’t explained much, in all honesty. I knew that he hadn’t told my mother half of what he'd just told me, or else she wouldn’t have been smiling that way.
Someone had left a red heart shaped box filled with chocolates on my bed. There was heart drawn on top in marker with an “R” scrawled underneath. I held the box in my hand and stared at it. I didn’t want to be the person who made things harder for her.
I lay on my bed with my hand on the heart, considering if my being there was what was best for her. How was I supposed to decide that? She sounded so hurt last night, convinced that I didn't want her. The irony was that I'd been afraid she was going to say the same thing to me.
I eventually fell asleep on top of my covers. The house was dark when I woke a couple hours later, but it wasn’t exactly quiet. This house never rested. I turned on music to mask the house’s distress, so I wouldn’t jump at every little noise.
I was searching for a shirt to wear, when a loud bang suddenly drew my attention. I shut off the music, remaining perfectly still and holding my breath, convinced I’d heard a cabinet slam shut in the kitchen.
I crept to my door. The hinges creaked as I slowly opened it. I listened intently and jumped when the radiator rattled on. I took a breath and rolled my eyes at my overreaction, turning the music back on.
I gathered a pair of sweats and a long sleeved shirt in preparation for a shower, so I could feel a part of the human race once again and rid my hair of the chlorine smell. I had texts waiting for me from Sara and Evan when I emerged, clean and revived.
I kept each light on as I walked through the house, making my way to the kitchen to microwave a frozen macaroni and cheese dinner. I poured a glass of milk and brought the plastic tray into the living room. I wasn’t sure I’d ever feel comfortable being alone, at least not in this house.
I got sucked into a pathetic reality television show with explosive drama and so many words bleeped, the sentences didn’t even make sense. After wasting an hour of my life, I found a black and white movie I’d seen enough times to know just about every other line.
“Emma, you should go up to bed,” the voice whispered. “Emma.”
“Yeah?” I answered, not sure if I was talking in my dream.
“It’s late,” the voice responded.
I pulled the cover up under my chin, slowly realizing I wasn’t in my bed. I pushed my eyes open to find the television playing highlights of a basketball game. I blinked heavily, waking in the dark with the lights extinguished except for the television.
“Sorry to wake you,” Jonathan said from his seat across from me. “But I figured you’d be more comfortable in your bed.”
“What time is it?” I asked, trying to focus on the glowing clock of the cable box.
“After two,” he answered.
I pushed up to sit, slowly coming to the surface
“You should go up to bed,” Jonathan encouraged again.
I took a breath, “Okay.” But I didn’t move. My brain started functioning, and I looked at him quizzically. “What are you doing up?”
“Needed to step away from a dream,” he answered vaguely, but with words I could understand.
Then it struck me. “Wait, I thought you weren’t staying over this week.”
“I’m not,” he confirmed, then corrected with, “I wasn’t supposed to. I had to drive her home; then she asked me not to leave her. I just…” He pressed his lips together, not finding the words to support his decision.
“You know she’s always going to ask you to stay."
“And that’s the reason I shouldn’t.”
I was confused by what he said, and slightly alarmed. But I let him decide if he was going to explain what he meant, and he eventually said more than I expected to hear. “I sent out applications to graduate schools, and the closest one is in DC.”
“Oh,” I breathed, starting to understand, and not liking where this was headed.
“I like being with her. She’s a lot of fun, and has the craziest perspective on the world. She doesn’t ask questions about me or where I came from; she only cares about who I am now and just wants to be with me.”
“And that’s good, right?’ I asked, suddenly curious why keeping his past hidden was important to him. But then again, I was the last person to want to talk about mine.
“Yes, not talking about my past is a relief, honestly,” Jonathan replied. “But, I don’t want her to need me like she does. I just want…” He searched for the right words. “I don’t want any pressure.”
“She’s always needed someone,” I blurted. I hadn't planned to say it, but as soon as I did, I knew it was true. I looked up at him, my honesty shrouding me with guilt. “I didn’t mean it like it sounded…”
“You’re probably right,” he interrupted. “I’m not sure it’s me she needs, exactly.”
I started pulling at a thread on the blanket.
“I shouldn’t really be talking about my relationship with you anyway,” he suddenly said. “Sorry, I’m sure it’s weird.”
“A little.” But my conclusion started to make sense, looking back over the years. She’d never been without a man in her life, even for short spurts of time. I’d always believed it was her desperate way of replacing my father.
I looked over at Jonathan and wondered what she’d seen in him that reminded her of my father. Maybe it was his smile. When it spread across his face, the edges of his eyes would crinkle into a smile too. My lips curled up just thinking about it.
“What?” he asked, catching me in my memories.
“Nothing,” I recovered, adjusting the blanket uncomfortably. “I was just thinking. I can understand why she'd want you to stay.”
“Then does that make me a horrible person for needing some space?”
“No,” I answered. “I’m just not sure how she’ll do with the space. She really likes you.”
“I like her too," he admitted with a sigh. "But, you’ll be here with her."
I let out a short laugh, “It's not the same.”
Jonathan grinned, his eyes locked with mine. My smile faltered for a moment when I couldn't look away.
“I guess I should go to bed,” I blinked, pulling the blanket off of me. Before I got to the stairs, I turned to him and said, "Jonathan?"
"Yes, Emma."
"Please don't hurt her," I asked, my voice soft and edged with emotion. "I don't want to see her hurt again."
He paused for a moment, scanning my face thoughtfully. "I don't want to hurt her either." He offered a consoling smile before I turned away and walked up the stairs, not sure if he'd promised what I asked―fearful that he hadn't.