“Mom, I have no clue. It’s been years. I highly doubt, though, that after all those decades he’s going to dream of going to his parents’ house. Where would you go if you were him?”
“Hmm…well…he probably hasn’t…you know…for a while. So probably Vegas. Yeah, I bet that’s where he’s going. A lot of partying, a lot of showgirls, a lot of willing…participants.”
“Mom! For God’s sake. I should have known better than to ask you that question!”
“Hey, I’m just being realistic. And just because I’m old doesn’t mean I’ve lost touch with what men want.” To my absolute horror, I can fully picture the cunning grin on her face as if she is standing right in front of me. My mother, the irrational lady with perverted remarks spewing out of her mouth in all situations. Some things never change.
“Well, Mom, on that lovely note, I’m going to say goodbye and let you finish unpacking. I’ll call you sometime this weekend. “
“K, honnie. Love you.”
“Love you, too. And try to stay out of trouble.”
“That’s no fun.”
“Life’s not always supposed to be fun,” I remark, feeling, as usual, like the parent instead of the child.
“Toodles!” she adds before hanging up. What a tagline.
I put the phone back on the charger and shake my head. Despite her quirkiness, I have to admit that my mom does know how to lighten any subject.
I walk to the cupboard and pull out a wine glass. I usually need something strong to drink after a conversation with my mother. Today is no exception. I reach into our liquor cabinet and pull out some of my favorite bubbly. As I pour myself a brimming glass, Hank trots out to the kitchen, probably thinking he might score some kind of snack. He sits at my feet and begs me with his hopeful eyes. As I carry my glass toward the kitchen door, his eyes sink with disappointment. Nonetheless, he follows me out the door onto the deck. I slouch into one of our white Adirondack chairs and glance up at the perfectly clear sky. The sun has set and the first stars are making their dutiful appearance. I set my glass down on the tiny table between the two chairs. Hank lies down at my feet, and I reach down and pat him on the head. He sighs in delight.
As I look at the tiny specks of life, I can’t help but reflect on my mother’s question—how could God let this happen? Since preschool, I had been taught that God has a plan for us, that we aren’t alone. And for so many years, I believed it. Looking up at the vast night sky, I would see the balls of light that shined from a distant part of an unimaginably large galaxy. There seemed to be no better proof of a higher power than the vastness of the great universe. There just had to be a plan. How else could one explain the complexities of life? Yet tonight, I look at the stars and planets and galaxies with doubt. Maybe they were nothing more than mere specks of light. Maybe we as humans try to read too much into them. Maybe we want them to mean more than they do. We want life to mean more than it does. We don’t want to think that we are all just players in a pointless, endless game. How depressing and terrifying that seems.
Yet, looking at the sky tonight, I feel the true minuteness of man. In a galaxy with incomprehensible vastness, Earth is just a dot. In the scheme of things, then, a single life isn’t even a blip on the radar. Sure, there is probably a higher power out there. It seems logical, and as a church-goer I do have some sense of faith within me. But maybe we put too much weight on God’s shoulders. We are haughty enough to believe that he is watching our every move, planning our every step, listening to our every desire. Maybe he’s just too busy with other things to strategically plan every breath for us earthlings.
I know that this is not what my mom meant. Hers was meant as a rhetorical question. For, despite her zaniness, her faith in God is unwavering. Although she may have regrets and sadness over Corbin, I know that deep down she believes all of this has a purpose. Maybe that’s why she’s unpacking from another trip while I’m sitting at home wallowing in pity and wine.
Perhaps long ago I, too, believed this whole thing had a purpose. But now, with decades gone by, I cannot bring myself to believe that this situation is anything but a horrible catastrophe, a symbol of the irrationality and unpredictability of life. No matter how hard you try to be a good person, to make choices that will lead to success, nothing is promised. Even the good and the innocent are damned from time to time. What good can come out of the loss that we have all faced? What positive message can surface from the damnation of an innocent man? How can we reclaim any sense of meaning when so much has been taken away? Maybe if so much time hadn’t passed, things would be different. But time has passed, a lot of it. It’s too late to redeem the situation, to redeem us.
And so, as I look at the sky tonight, I cannot help but think that there is no true meaning to the situation. The God I believe in would not, could not, be this cruel. However, this option leaves the situation in perhaps an even worse state. If there is no plan, if God is not to blame for this situation, then who should be blamed? Corbin? Coincidence? The police? No matter how long I sit here and stare at the stars, none of these choices will fit into my equation. For I know, deep down, the person I blame is me.
I look away from the star-filled sky. My mind plummets deeper and deeper into a murky sea of wandering, exhausting me to the point that it can’t handle any more meaning-of-life considerations. Too many thoughts and feelings are already floating through my mind. I can’t take any more. I sigh as I reach for my glass of wine and take a sip, hoping it will numb both the pain and my thoughts. As the grape wine sloshes over my tongue, however, a sense of familiarity creeps into my blood. What a mistake. For with this sip of the familiar flavor, more memories come sneaking up on me.
Chapter Twelve: Barnyard Antics
Emma
Memories
With my ringlet curls sprayed so stiffly that they felt as though they would crack off, I shouted at the top of my lungs down the stairs.
“Mom! Can you get up here? He’s going to be here any second!”
I peeked down the hall, anxiously waiting to catch a glimpse of her. I felt like she was moving like molasses, which was totally out of character for my mother.
“I’m coming! I’m coming! Jeez, chill out, Emma. It’s going to be fine.”
I forced out an exorbitant amount of air in frustration. It’s not going to be fine, I thought. With the hair salon running forty-five minutes behind and my black eyeliner being uncooperative, how could things be fine? I was already behind schedule, which equated to extra stress on an already taxing day.
My mom finally reached my room. She snatched the baby-blue, floor-length dress from its hanger, carefully slid it off, and handed it to be.
“Step in,” she instructed. I obeyed in an overly cautious manner, careful not to trip over the excessive puffiness. When the dress was in place, she zipped me up.
I looked in the mirror, finally relaxing as I saw the finished product coming together surprisingly nicely. I looked…pretty… considering the stress and all. Just one more touch.
“Mom! Where are my earrings?” I screamed in frenzy as I felt around on my dresser.
“Right here! I moved them so you wouldn’t knock them off while you did your makeup.” She reached for a tiny jewelry box on the corner of my dresser, clinking back the top to reveal my final accessories.
“Oh…” I sighed in relief. “Thank God. That would have been a disaster.”
“Yes, a true, earth-shattering disaster,” my mom teased. She smiled, though, looking serious for an uncharacteristic moment. “You look great, baby. Beautiful. See, it all worked out, huh? You need to learn to relax and go with the flow.”
Just then, the doorbell rang. Ready with only seconds to spare.
“I’ll get it!” my mom yelled, excitement gleaming in her eye like she was the one awaiting her date. It still made me nervous how excited she got to see Corbin. I always felt like she was on the verge of saying or doing something embarrassing. At this point, however, I guessed that Cor
bin was pretty used to my mother.
I took one last glance in the mirror as I heard my mother greet Corbin. I heard her make a fuss about how grown-up he looked and how handsome he was. It seemed corny to me, but I knew these simple words meant a lot to him. Without his own mother to make embarrassing spectacles of his big moments, my mother was an essential fill-in. She might not be the sanest mother, but she did have a big heart and an awesome sense of empathy.
I breathed in deeply, suddenly nervous to walk down the stairs. It seemed utterly ridiculous. Corbin and I had been a couple for well over a year now. We had been through so much—fights, kisses, jokes, secrets. We had survived tragedy with his mother’s death. The winter and spring months had been hellacious, threatening Corbin’s spirits and my ability to be strong for him. Corbin had endured the cycle of grief, all while trying to be resilient enough to keep what was left of his family together. Through it all, though, my mom and I worked hard to keep his spirits up and his visions of the future vivid in his mind. As we willed him out of the blackness of grief, we slowly began to see Corbin return to the vivacious guy he once was. He had grown a lot, been forced to mature due to weathering such tragedies, but he was back. In the midst of the darkness, we had also enjoyed small triumphs—Corbin’s first semester of straight A’s, and my first rollercoaster ride.
We had started to grow into the people we would become in adulthood, all the while growing together. Yet, we still hadn’t lost that magic spark of adolescence. Looking back, I wish we had relished in the magic of those years a little more instead of constantly keeping our eyes on the horizon. We were always dreaming about the future and what would be instead of basking in the glow of our youth. We had no way of knowing, though, that we would be forced to abandon our carefree selves and grow up too soon. How could we? What teenager thinks that her life won’t turn out as planned, won’t be a stroll through success?
That day, though, wasn’t a day for figuring out the future or strolling down memory lane. It was a day to celebrate, to dance, to simply be. Now, waiting to walk down those stairs for the final time, I couldn’t calm the ridiculous butterflies in my stomach. I guess I just wanted him to think I was perfect. I wanted to be that girl with the flawless hair and airbrushed makeup hanging on his arm. I wanted to make him proud to be with me, even though I knew he was. On the other hand, I felt so ridiculous in my “princess” garb. I felt completely over the top.
All of the anxiousness and stress that I had put into my appearance had come down to this final moment. Although I didn’t know it at this point, junior prom was a grandiose moment in itself, for it would mark a significant turn in our relationship. In many ways, it marked the transformation of us from two kids who were pretty serious about each other to two adults who were part of an unconditional, irrevocable relationship.
My thoughts were quickly interrupted by, you guessed it, my mom.
“Emma! What are you doing up there? If you’re not drop-dead gorgeous by now, there’s truly no hope for you! Get down here and see your hunk of a boyfriend!”
I rolled my eyes. Couldn’t she ever just feign normalcy? No wonder my dad spent so many hours at the office. Even if he did love her, which I know he did, the office was a much-needed refuge from the total chaos that was my mother. After all, a person could only take so much of her intense personality before needing a break.
I turned from the mirror and carefully treaded down the steps in my three-inch high heels, treacherous and wobbly. I prayed that I wouldn’t roll down the steps and either rip the dress or break my ankle. Thankfully, and quite surprisingly, I did neither. Weeks of practice in my glittering heels had paid off, at least for the time being.
Corbin was waiting at the bottom of the steps, both hands resting in the pockets of his pants. He stood tall and strong in his black tux and perfectly straight bowtie. His tussled hair demonstrated a lack of fuss over his looks, but it seemed natural. It looked like Corbin. I smiled as I saw his reaction to me, and I felt nothing but sheer elation at my luck. Before me stood the most gorgeous, sweetest, and craziest guy I had ever seen. Most miraculous, that guy was looking at me with pure love. I guess all of the primping had been worth it.
“You. Look. A-mazing,” he annunciated, savoring each syllable of every word. His face told me he meant it. I felt a bit silly, like we were in one of those cheesy romantic movies with third-rate actors. But a part of me was excited to have a romantic, Hollywood moment of my own, even if I looked nothing like a movie star.
“You look pretty good, too,” I said with a teasing smile. As I got to the bottom of the steps, I reached out and wrapped my arms around him. He squeezed me back tightly after kissing me on the cheek.
“Okay, you lovebirds. Enough, enough. You’re going to mess up her makeup and hair, and God knows we don’t have time to go through all of that again. Now, get over there so I can take some pictures.” She directed us toward the wall by the entranceway—our traditional photo op spot in the house because it was void of clutter.
“Some pictures” turned into what seemed like two hundred. My mother had us in every possible pose and even some impossible ones. When she had exhausted the possibilities in the house, she moved us outdoors for another series. At this rate, she could make thirty scrapbooks of this single day. And maybe even a few flipbooks.
“Is this necessary?” I whined after twenty minutes.
She pulled the camera down for a brief second. “Do you have to ask that, Emma? Did you expect any less?” she said, matter-of-factly. I sighed and rolled my eyes, knowing it was easier to go along with her demands than to fight them. Corbin graciously smiled over and over, never complaining. Finally, after one last pose, she said, “Okay, I think I have enough. You guys can go now.”
I grabbed Corbin’s hand and raced toward his white truck, not stopping to look back. “Bye, Mom. Love ya!” I shouted over my shoulder as I opened the door to his pickup and carefully slid in. I wasn’t going to give her another second to deliberate.
“Wait! Take this so you can get some pictures at the prom!”
“Mom, really?” I whined as she approached the truck, flailing the camera through the open window.
“You have two choices. You can take lots of pictures and prove to me that I can trust you, or you can choose to not take any pictures and then for senior prom, I’ll just have to show up and take my own. It’s up to you,” she sang in her oh-so-annoying “I’ve got you cornered” voice, eyebrows raised. The sad part was that any other mom would be joking, but I knew she would fully deliver on her ultimatum.
Knowing I had been beat, I grabbed the camera and an extra roll of film from her, shoving both on the seat beside me. “Are you sure I’m not adopted?” I asked, half teasing.
“Oh please, someday you’ll be an exact replica of me,” she beamed.
“God, I hope not,” I said, directing it toward Corbin. He just shook his head and laughed.
Mom playfully poked at me, flailing her head with a disapproving look. “Anyway, sourpuss, try to have some fun, okay? Corbin, make sure she has fun! And take lots of pictures.” She winked at Corbin, wiped at a smear of lipstick in the corner of my mouth, and skipped off toward the house, turning back every few steps to wave yet again. Unbelievable. This woman truly should be in some type of stupid comedic movie. Or maybe a horror film. Either would work.
Corbin, though, didn’t seem to notice the ridiculous quality of her actions. He smirked back at her, waving her off into the distance, and finally jumped onto the springy truck seat.
“Finally! We’re free!” I said to him as he started up the truck. “Okay, so where are we going?”
Most of the girls in my classes had planned their prom schedule itinerary to the millisecond, informing their dates of where they were to be and when. Corbin and I had done things differently. When I asked him where he wanted to go for dinner before prom, he simply said, “I’ll take care of it.” My controlling nature forced me to argue with him a bit, but I finally agr
eed to give up the reigns. “It’ll be worth it, trust me,” he had promised. Although I hated surprises, I gave in to the sensation, enjoying the prospect of the unknown. It had been driving me crazy for weeks. I guessed I would find out soon enough.
“Emma, do you think I’m going to ruin my surprise now after I’ve kept it secret for weeks? You’ll see when we get there.”
“Humph.” I said, frustrated. Corbin just laughed as he backed up onto the road.
He had been right—the surprise was worth the wait.
At first, I was utterly confused at where we were going. I began to think that letting him plan our outing had been a mistake. After twenty minutes on a ridiculously long road, rutty and windy, we stopped at a ramshackle barn. This wasn’t one of your bright, fire-engine red, picture-perfect, romantic-in-a-country-sort-of-way barns. What few swatches of paint were left on it were peeling off so badly that they were attached only by a centimeter. Weeds grew in the field, waist-high. No other houses or cars were around, highlighting the fact that it had clearly been abandoned for a long time. I didn’t even move as Corbin unhooked his seatbelt and got out of the car.
Usually, I was up for just about anything with Corbin, but now my stomach fell into a knot of disappointment. What would I tell everyone? They knew Corbin was surprising me, but how would I spin this to stand up to the anticipation and excitement I had expressed for weeks? What was Corbin thinking? I loved Corbin unconditionally, and I loved the simplicity of our relationship on a normal day. We could paint fences all day or sit and look at the grass for all I cared, as long as I was with him. This, however, seemed to be a bit much. Had I spent hours perfecting my look to wander around in some disgusting barn? I tried not to pout too much or to let the disgust mar my face. It was a battle, though. Finally, the words leaped out of my unconsciously pursed lips.
“Um, are you serious right now?” I asked him with true shock ringing in my voice. I could feel the whiny, high-maintenance girl in me bursting at the seams. This character was usually dormant, hidden away by my crappy T-shirts and clearance shopping. Now the valley girl within seemed to surface, horrified at this disgusting prospect. Corbin stayed calm, though, and just laughed.
Voice of Innocence: A Coming-Of-Age Sweet Romance Page 8
