The waitress appeared. “Have you guys had a chance to look at the menu?”
Emily looked down, feeling a little relieved that they’d been interrupted. She ordered the pasta special, and Isaac asked for veal Parmesan. By the time the waitress closed her notepad and strolled away, the brave feeling had passed. So Emily asked Isaac a few more questions about himself—what was happening at school, how many shows his band had played, what his plans for summer vacation were. Then she told him more about UNC, the Eco Cruise she was going on in a few weeks, and how she was thinking about getting a summer job. For the most part, the conversation was smooth and effortless, and before Emily knew it, there were only a few pieces of calamari left on the plate. She’d forgotten how easy it was to talk to Isaac, how he laughed at all the appropriate parts of a story. Her fists unclenched. Maybe this would be okay.
“So how’s your family?” Isaac asked as the waitress served them their food.
“Oh, you know.” Emily shrugged nonchalantly. “The same. My mom’s still really active in the church. She’s BFFs with Father Fleming. She made me go see him the other day.”
“Oh really? Why?”
Emily pushed a bite of pasta into her mouth so she wouldn’t have to speak. Tell him. You owe it to him. Yet again, her mouth couldn’t form the words.
She must have taken too long to answer, because Isaac cleared his throat. “How’s your older sister? What was her name . . . Carolyn?”
A sharp odor of milky Alfredo sauce wafted into Emily’s nostrils, turning her stomach. “She’s . . . fine.”
“Where’d she go to school?”
“Stanford.”
“Does she like it?”
“I think so.”
Not that Emily really knew. After sharing a bedroom for almost eighteen years, Carolyn had barely said a word to Emily since last summer. Emily hadn’t known who to turn to when she found out she was pregnant, but since Carolyn was spending the summer in Philly, she seemed like the best option. Emily thought Carolyn would step up and be her big sister, and while Carolyn did let Emily stay, Carolyn never let her forget how disappointed and disgusted she was. She never asked how Emily was feeling. She never wanted to know how her latest anatomy scan had been. She didn’t even ask who the father was. When Emily had found out she had to have a scheduled C-section because the baby was breech, she called Carolyn and told her right away. All Carolyn had said was, “I heard recovery from a C-section is awful.”
Emily didn’t dare tell Carolyn about the struggle to choose adoptive parents. Nor did she tell her that Gayle had offered her fifty thousand dollars, or about the day she’d gone to Gayle’s enormous house in New Jersey to collect the check. Gayle had looked at her like she was a specimen in a jar. And when Emily pocketed the check Gayle gave her, she felt dirty and awful.
Carolyn wasn’t there for her, but maybe Isaac would have been, if only she’d given him the chance.
She took a breath. “Isaac, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”
He nodded. “Yeah, you said that in your text. What’s up?”
Emily pushed her fork around her plate, her heart hammering. Here goes. “Well . . .”
“What are you doing here?”
Emily’s head snapped up. Standing over them, dressed in a powder-blue suit from sometime in the eighties—and not the cool eighties, either—was Isaac’s mom. As Mrs. Colbert’s gaze bounced from Isaac to Emily and back to Isaac again, her expression shifted from annoyance to rage.
“You told me you were going out to dinner with your bandmates,” Mrs. Colbert hissed, her eyebrows drawn together. “Not . . . her.”
“Mom, stop,” Isaac warned. “I knew you’d get crazy and irrational if I told you I was meeting Emily. She’s a good person—I don’t know why you can’t see that. We’re having a really nice dinner, catching up.”
Emily’s cheeks flushed as she felt a mix of pleasure and guilt. She couldn’t remember the last time someone had stood up for her like that.
Mrs. Colbert let out an unflattering snort. “I hardly think she’s a good person, Isaac.”
“What would make you say that?” Isaac asked.
Mrs. Colbert didn’t answer. Instead she stared at Emily with a pointed look on her face. It was almost like she knew what Emily had done. Emily drew in a breath. Had A contacted her?
Finally, Mrs. Colbert wrenched her gaze away and turned to Isaac. “Your father is looking for you. One of the caterers for the event tonight dropped out, and he needs you to fill in.”
“Now?” Isaac asked. He gestured to his plate. “I’m in the middle of dinner.”
“Have them wrap it up.” Mrs. Colbert turned on her heel and stormed toward the bar, clearly expecting Isaac to follow.
Isaac looked at Emily, his eyes big and sad. “I’m so sorry. Can we take a rain check? Do something later in the week?”