6
A Thousand Words
MY EARS PICKED UP THE MUSICAL CHIME coming from my nightstand before my brain could understand what it was hearing. I hit the snooze button, but the notes continued. I squinted an eye open to peer at the clock. It was after three in the morning. The chiming stopped, and I fell back into my pillow.
My phone started ringing again, insistent that I pick it up. I groaned and grappled with the device, pulling it in front of my face.
‘Sara?’ I grumbled, my voice still lost in the world of sleep.
‘Emma!’ she sobbed, her voice broken and full of pain. I bolted upright.
‘Sara, what is it?’ I demanded urgently, sitting in the dark of my room with my heart pounding. I tried to remain patient as I heard her strain to catch her breath. ‘Sara, please tell me.’
‘He’s engaged!’ she screamed in piercing agony. My entire body stilled. A moment passed, and all I could hear were her deafening cries.
‘Who’s engaged?’ I whispered, knowing the answer.
‘Jared,’ she whimpered. She collapsed into something that muffled her cries. I waited until she finally said, ‘I saw it … in The Times …’
And then there was nothing.
‘Sara?’ My phone displayed the lost connection message. ‘Shit.’ I dialled her back, only to hear the blaring of a busy signal. Frustrated and still confused, I pushed my blankets back, flipping on the bedside lamp.
I tried to call her back again, but was blocked by the same bleeping signal. I scrambled to my desk and booted up my laptop.
I searched ‘Mathews’ and ‘New York Times’ and was directed to a link. The page opened to the engagement section of The Times, featuring a large black-and-white photo of Jared and a girl. I stared at the screen in disbelief.
It wasn’t a professionally posed engagement photo. They were surrounded by formally dressed people at some kind of function. The photographer captured an image of them walking hand in hand. Jared was grinning slightly, while the girl next to him was simply glowing, with a vibrant, open-mouthed laugh. Her dark eyes twinkled, even in the colourless image. Her brown hair was swept up into a loose style, with elegant wisps framing her undeniably stunning face. She held a hand up, as if to cover her laugh, and there it was … the ring. A huge square diamond on her left hand.
I couldn’t focus on the words announcing their engagement. I didn’t care when they were getting married. I didn’t even care what her name was. Sara’s heart was being torn out of her chest in another country, without me there to console her. I called back again, and just as the phone started to ring, my eyes shifted. And I saw Evan.
He was in the background, within the crowd of partygoers. Most of his face was cut from the picture, though with the distinct structure of his jaw and the sharp lines of his mouth, there was no denying it was him. I did, however, have a full view of the girl draped around his left arm. It was hard to forget the detestably smug grin of Catherine Jacobs, the same girl who’d practically thrown herself at him at the dinner we’d attended years ago at her parents’ house. She looked very comfortable on his arm, like she thought she belonged there.
‘Emma?’ Sara answered. ‘Are you there?’ But I could barely hear her.
My insides had fallen into a bottomless pit, and my throat had closed up.
‘Emma?’
I dropped the phone and rushed to the bathroom, crashing the door against the wall, just in time to reach the toilet before expelling the contents of my stomach. I broke out into a cold sweat, gripping the rim of the seat tightly as my entire body convulsed.
‘Emma?’ Meg’s soothing voice came from the open door of the bathroom. ‘Are you okay?’ Then I heard her say, ‘She’s here, Sara. But she’s sick.’
‘No,’ I coughed, shaking my head. ‘No, I’m here.’ I dropped the tissue that I’d used to wipe my mouth into the toilet before closing the lid and flushing it. I flopped onto the floor with my back against the wall, my muscles trembling as if I were sitting outside in the middle of a snowstorm. ‘Let me talk to her.’ I reached out my unsteady hand.
Meg studied me for a moment, then stepped into the small bathroom and handed me her phone. She didn’t leave when I put it to my ear, opting to sit on the edge of the bathtub.
‘Sara?’ I rasped, my throat raw. ‘I’m so sorry.’ I ran the back of my hand across my upper lip, clearing the ledge of sweat. I couldn’t stop shaking. My shirt was damp, and my hair was plastered to my face like I’d just woken up from a nightmare. But I was very much awake.
‘You saw,’ she whispered knowingly.
‘Yeah,’ I returned quietly. ‘I wish I were there, with you.’
‘Me too,’ she whimpered. My eyes blurred. Hot tears streaked down my cold, clammy skin.
‘But I’m here. I’m not going anywhere. Just close your eyes, and it will be like I’m right there next to you. We’re facing each other, and I’m holding your hand. I’m there, Sara.’
‘I don’t understand,’ she cried. ‘I don’t understand why he didn’t tell me. Why did I have to see it in the f*cking newspaper?’ She released a scream full of anger and pain. I remained silent. ‘He knew I’d see it. He knew how much it would kill me.’ Her voice cracked, and she broke into heart-crushing sobs. I closed my eyes, and tears continued to cascade down my face.
I’d almost forgotten Meg was in the bathroom with me until I felt her hand in mine. I laid my head on her shoulder and listened to Sara cry. My back ached from holding in my own sobs. But I couldn’t do that to her. She needed me. I had to push away my pain so there was room enough for hers.
‘Emma?’ she whispered.
‘I’m still here,’ I answered softly. ‘I just don’t know what to say.’
‘You don’t have to say anything,’ she replied, sniffling. ‘Stay on the phone with me, okay?’
‘For as long as you need me,’ I promised.
‘Emma,’ Meg beckoned to me, pulling back my thin veil of sleep. I blinked my eyes and realized I still had the phone to my ear, but it was quiet on the other end. I sat up from Meg’s lap and stretched. My neck felt contorted and cramped.
‘Sorry,’ I muttered.
‘It’s okay.’ Meg stretched her hands over her head and yawned. ‘I fell asleep too.’
‘What time is it?’ I asked, slowly pushing myself off the bathroom floor.
‘Almost seven,’ she groaned, standing too. I handed back her phone. ‘I’m going to bed. Em, will you be okay?’ I blinked at her through bleary, bloodshot eyes.
‘I’m fine,’ I answered automatically, not giving myself a second to consider otherwise. But I knew I wasn’t. The acrid reminder still burned the back of my throat. After dragging my feet to the bedroom, I picked up my phone from the floor and sent Sara a text to call me whenever she needed. Then I climbed into my bed, pulled the blanket over me, and shut everything out until I was forced to face it again.
I picked up the phone on the first ring a couple of hours later. Before I could ask how she was, she hollered, ‘He keeps calling me! What the f*ck?!’
‘Did you talk to him?’ I asked cautiously, struck by the venom in her tone.
‘Hell no! He can’t call me the day the announcement hits the papers and expect me to listen to an explanation. F*ck that! I’m so pissed off, Emma. So, so pissed!’
‘I can hear that,’ I noted sympathetically. ‘And I understand.’
She continued as if I hadn’t spoken. I knew there weren’t any words to console her. She just needed me to listen, and that’s what I did, as helpless as that made me feel.
‘She’s some f*cking socialite from New York. I don’t even think she went to college. How pathetic is that? What the f*ck can he possibly see in her? I mean, she is, I guess, attractive or whatever, but what the hell? She has a jewellery line that she puts her name on and claims to be a designer. Yeah, right. I can’t f*cking believe that’s who he’s marrying! What the –’
Her voice broke off, indicating she was receiving another call.
‘Do you need to get that?’ I offered gently.
She hesitated. ‘Omigod! He’s f*cking calling again. I need to block his calls and emails, so I gotta go. I’ll call you later.’ And then she was gone.
Her raging fit, coupled with my role as the mute bystander, left me exhausted. I wanted her to feel better. To go back to the exuberant, energetic person I loved like a sister. Sara was stronger than I was, so I had hope that she’d recover from this. But wanting something didn’t always make it happen.
Every choice had a consequence. I’d earned every aching beat that pounded in my chest.
Emma!
The sound of him calling me, lying battered and abandoned on the floor of my mother’s house, echoed within me. I was the only one to blame for my desolation.
I looked down at my hands and flexed them. They still trembled ever so slightly. I closed my eyes, and the tears were there waiting, dammed by my lids. I clenched my teeth and breathed in quick bursts, demanding the numbness to return.
‘Em, we’re going for a run,’ Serena announced, poking her head in the door. I opened my glassy eyes. Without reacting to my tortured expression, she calmly directed me, ‘Get dressed and come with us.’
I didn’t argue, knowing the run would be more therapeutic than sleep.
Meg was in the hall, tying her running shoes, when I exited my room.
‘Hey,’ she greeted with a comforting smile. ‘Get any sleep?’
‘Some,’ I responded. She didn’t mention the picture from The Times, which was no longer on my computer screen. I knew she’d closed it. Just like I knew that either she or Serena had picked up the photo that was missing from under my nightstand. I wasn’t oblivious to their protective gestures, even if we never talked about them.
‘How’s Sara?’ she asked.
‘Lethal. Jared better hope he never bumps into her.’
Meg smiled, probably picturing Sara in all her vengeance.
‘Ready?’ Peyton bounced out of her room, her blonde hair swinging in a ponytail.
‘Yeah,’ Meg and I answered in unison, following her as she hopped down the stairs.
Serena and Meg were quiet during our run. I wondered if Meg had told Serena what happened, but I wasn’t about to ask. Peyton remained oblivious to the strained silence. She proceeded to recap the fraternity party she’d attended the night before, with detailed descriptions of how each room was decorated in a different book theme, with corresponding drinks.
‘I think I drank every book.’ She laughed. ‘I mean drink.’
‘Shocking,’ Serena scoffed. Peyton ignored her.
‘When are you going out with Cole?’ Peyton interrogated, jogging faster to catch up with my pace.
‘What?’ Her voice was droning in my head like a rhythmic buzz.
‘What’s going on between you two? I never got to ask you, what happened when you met him at Joe’s?’
‘Umm … nothing really,’ I said evasively. ‘It was … nothing.’
‘Are you going to see him again?’ she pushed.
‘I … uh …’
I couldn’t form a sentence, forget about a thought. I was concentrating on not collapsing and bursting into flames right there on the sidewalk.
‘Are you ever going out with Tom?’ Meg intercepted. ‘I mean, you two have been flirting for forever. Does he even have your phone number?’
‘Yes,’ Peyton snapped. ‘He has my phone number. We’re just … taking our time.’
I lengthened my stride and left them behind, pushing myself around the next corner until I was sprinting, needing to extinguish the inferno before it consumed the limited air I had left. Serena remained right behind me, her face set and determined.
This only drove me to push harder towards the house, now in sight. My thighs screamed and my lungs burned. I let up and slowed to a walk after passing our front steps. Serena was hunched over with her hands on her thighs, sweat dripping down her flushed face.
‘F*ck, Em,’ she panted. ‘That was intense.’
I continued to walk around, taking long breaths, waiting for my heart rate to come down and the calm to take over. I closed my lids; the flames still danced beneath them, relentless, leaving me out of breath.
‘Serena?’ I said, frantic for relief.
‘Yeah?’ She sat on the bottom step with her elbows propped on the step behind her.
‘Will you do something with me?’
She stood up. ‘Anything.’
‘Will you go with me to get a tattoo?’
‘Today?’ she asked, her eyes scrunching ever so slightly to inspect the smooth expression on my face.
‘Yeah,’ I replied calmly. I knew what I asked her was drastic, but I figured if anyone would understand, she would.
‘Definitely.’ She smiled brightly. ‘I would love to be there for your first tattoo. Maybe I’ll add one to my collection.’
‘Thanks.’
After we’d showered and changed, Serena and I left for the tattoo parlour without saying anything to Peyton or Meg.
‘What are you going to get?’ she asked, the excitement dancing in her dark eyes. Her enthusiasm to be a part of this was exactly why I needed her to go with me.
I pulled the paper out of my pocket and handed her a drawing I’d created about a year ago, when I was still fighting with the nightmares. I hadn’t sketched it with thoughts of having it permanently inked on my body, but it seemed appropriate.
‘Wow,’ she admired. ‘You drew this?’ I nodded. ‘I didn’t know you could draw. This is amazing, Em. But with all that delicate script, it’s going to take a while. Spider would be the best to do this. Where are you going to get it?’
‘Here.’ I gestured to my left side, above my hip.
She cringed. ‘That’s going to hurt like hell.’
That’s what I was hoping.
I never made it to The Alley to meet Cole. I probably should have called him, but I didn’t. And he didn’t call me either.