Dear Elliot

by P. Stormcrow

  “Anna told me earlier, while you were going to the washroom.”

  “Mom tells you a lot of stuff,” Emma muttered under her breath. She didn’t understand how her mom could just pick up her relationship with Elliot like there hadn’t been ten years in between.

  “We’re family.” Elliot’s voice softened, and she snapped her head. Elliot had half turned from her and stared at her mom with concern and worry.

  We are? Do you think of me as family too?

  If so, then why did you never write back? Why did you never come back?

  Emma refused to cry. She sniffed, but she kept the tears welling in her eyes from falling. No, she wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of seeing that, and she was no crybaby. She had been crying way too much.

  Elliot held his hand out, her keys in his palm. “Go home, Emma. I’ll watch over Anna a little longer and take an Uber home later.” When she still didn’t take the keys, Elliot brought his hand closer. “Your mom told you to go home over an hour ago. What do you think she’s going to say if you’re still here when she wakes up?”

  A growl rumbled in the back of her throat. “It’s no fair using my mother against me.”

  “You’re a grown woman, Emma. You should know it’s not about being fair.”

  The disapproving frown on Elliot’s face may have caused her temper to rise, but his words made her shoot up from her chair. Rather than scolding her as she had expected, however, he reached out and cupped her face in the cusp of his palm. His touch shocked her speechless.

  “I will do whatever it takes for you to keep you safe, even from yourself. You cannot take care of Anna if you don’t take care of yourself first.”

  It was that Elliot again—the one who told her to be careful every time she acted with recklessness, the one who covered for her, the one who always caught her when she fell. Emma’s breath caught, and she wondered if he was going to kiss her. Then she wondered if she wanted him to.

  Elliot cleared his throat, dropped his hand and turned away from her. Was he embarrassed? Regretted the gesture?

  There were too many questions and now was not the time. Emma shook her head clear and rose from her seat. “Fine.” She grabbed the keys and took two steps toward the door before she spun around and pressed Between Spaces against Elliot’s crossed arms. When he took it in his hands, staring down with the oddest look on his face, Emma hastened to explain. “In case you get bored.” And before he could protest, she fled the room.

  Elliot stared at the book, his mind a complete blank. Oh, and it clearly was not just any book to her but one that was well-loved and well-read, judging by the curled corners of the jacket.

  And one that he’d written.

  She reads my books.

  She likes my books.

  Elliot groped for the chair and sat, only to return to staring at the book. Her book. His book.

  “You know, if you stare at that thing any longer, you’re going to wear a hole in it. And then you’ll pissed Emma off.”

  “Anna.” Elliot set the book aside and jumped up from the chair to hurry to her side. “Why are you not sleeping?”

  Anna tried to sit up but winced.

  “Don’t strain,” he cautioned as Anna lay back down. When she groaned and paled, Elliot frowned. “Is it the pain? Should I get the nurse?”

  “I’m fine.” Anna waved him off. But when she struggled with tugging a pillow into place behind her, Elliot reached out to help.

  By the time they’d settled her, Anna was wheezing from the effort.

  “Here… Let me buzz for the nurse,” Elliot offered again, and when Anna didn’t protest, he retrieved the machine and hit the button.

  “Ah, thank you.” Anna sighed, then tilted her head to face Elliot. “Now, you want to tell me what’s going on with you and Emma?”

  Elliot patted her hand. “You should rest, Anna. Isn’t surgery in the morning?” Emma had told him earlier after speaking with the doctors.

  Anna chuckled and shook her head. “You may badger Emma around, but you have a couple of more years before you’ll be able to do the same with me. I’ve known you since you were in diapers, boy. So, spill.”

  “There’s nothing between us.” Elliot attempted as straight as face as possible.

  Anna sighed and reached out with one hand. When Elliot took it, she gave his hand a squeeze. “I know my girl has a temper and can hold a grudge, but you remind her of things I don’t think she’s ready to remember. She’ll come around, though. She just needs time. Be patient with her.”

  “There is nothing between us. I’ll be leaving soon after your surgery.” He needed to clear up any misunderstandings, because he couldn’t stand for the possibility of anyone imaging more between the two of them. He couldn’t allow for the possibility of them.

  “And how long have you been telling yourself that?”

  Before he could answer, a nurse poked her head through the door. Elliot patted Anna on her arm and turned to talk to the nurse.

  “She’s in a lot of pain.”

  The nurse nodded and stepped away before she returned with a small plastic cup. She marched straight to Anna and handed it to her.

  Anna took the pills, drank a little cup of water and blinked.

  The nurse tried to give Elliot a warm smile. “She’ll get drowsy and start falling asleep again. Visiting hours have been over for a while, so why don’t you go home and come back tomorrow?”

  Elliot recognized her suggestions as something more. “Okay. Anna?”

  “Mm-hmm?”

  “I’ll be back with Emma tomorrow, okay?”

  “Okay.” Anne smiled up at him.

  Elliot dipped his head in acknowledgment and left the room. And he wasn’t too proud to admit that he had almost fled the place. By the time he had called and gotten into an Uber, he was shaking nonstop.

  The driver must have sensed his need for space, for he did not speak more than necessary. Left alone to his thoughts, Elliot stared at the book again.

  Bollocks.

  What he needed was a drink…and a good lay—not necessarily in that order.

  When he arrived home at last, his first instincts moved him toward Emma’s bedroom to return the book, and that was the story he was sticking to.

  He marched straight to the room he remembered as hers and stopped at the open door. Oh, Emma. She sat on the floor, huddled into a ball by the bed. At least she had changed into her sweatpants and T-shirts again, but that was it. She remained there while great sobs racked her body, and she kept her head buried in her knees.

  “G—g—go away.”

  Elliot just made the words out between the hiccups. “Em…” When she didn’t correct him or throw a fit, he eased himself down beside her and pulled her to him.

  At first, she remained stiff, but when he kept his arms around her, she sobbed, buried her face against his chest and clung to him, crying anew. He stroked her hair, and they remained that way until at last, she calmed once more.

  “Sorry.” Emma pulled away from his embrace. She turned before he could glimpse her face and rubbed her eyes with the back of her hand. Elliot understood.

  “Get some sleep, Emma.”

  “Okay.” Again, Emma didn’t fight him on it. Elliot almost wished she would, so he would have worried less. But it had been a hard day.

  Elliot unfolded his legs to rise to a crouch and held her shoulders again. When she didn’t protest, he guided her up and helped her into bed. Her body followed his subtle signals and for a moment, he wondered if she would follow just as nicely in bed.

  Shut up, Elliot. Not appropriate.

  But still the image of her lying on that bed with not a stitch of clothing on remained and his cock twitched in his pants.

  Bloody hell, I do need to get laid.

  Just as he tucked her blanket around her, Emma shot her hand out and clung to his. “Can you stay? Just a little longer?”

  Her small voice, so vulnerable, almost broke him. “Sure. Bud
ge up.”

  Emma shuffled over in that double bed and Elliot climbed in. He remained sitting outside the comforter but stiffened as Emma curled up against him.

  “Goodnight, El.”

  “Goodnight, Em.”

  Chapter Eight

  What is life without dreams? Science dictates that dreams help us process the events of the day. But what if all that waits for you are nightmares? Would life still be worth living?

  The bed was empty by the time Elliot opened his eyes, the missing warmth an unwelcome sensation. He tried to get up and groaned at the discovery of the crick in his neck and the stiffness in his shoulders radiating down his back because of the awkward position he’d fallen asleep in.

  And yet, he’d slept without a single nightmare. All night.

  The implications made him uneasy as he oriented himself and recalled the events from the previous night. He rubbed his neck before he let his hands fall, only to land on a piece of paper. With another groan, he sat up and rubbed his eyes as he read the note.

  Left for the hospital.

  Breakfast sandwich on the counter in the kitchen.

  Coffee in the carafe. Milk in the fridge.

  If I don’t come back, there’s stuff for a sandwich in the fridge for lunch.

  Emma

  P.S. Thank you for yesterday.

  P.P.S. It’s Emma. Not Em.

  Damn that woman. He didn’t know anyone who was this organized so early in the morning. As he slid off the bed, he contemplated going to the hospital. A wave of nausea washed over him, and he sat back down on the bed.

  Yesterday, as an emergency, he’d handled the hospital, but the thought of Anna’s hip surgery today made him queasy. It made him remember an earlier event…

  ‘It’s labor, El, not surgery. Besides, even if it becomes a C-section, I mean, how many times have they done that? How many in a day?’

  Elliot shook his head as her voice bounced in his head. He tried to recall Anna in the bed, but all he could see was her.

  Blood. There was too much blood for any of this to be normal. Why isn’t the baby crying?

  “Enough,” he roared and shot up to his feet, his breath shallow as he panted. When the noises of that day in the hospital rushed back into his ears, he covered them and bent over. Hyperventilating… That’s what was going on. Breathe. In. Out. What did the therapist say? Ground himself in his surroundings.

  Elliot forced his head up and studied the room. It had changed from when he’d been there last. Emma had never been a pink kind of girl, but she’d had her pastel oranges and lilacs. Those were all gone now, replaced by beiges and green hues, from the rumpled bed sheets to the armchair in one corner. A large standing mirror stood close to the closet while a framed large fan-art poster of the series, The Expanse, was hanging on one wall. It wasn’t just his books. Their shared love for science fiction had survived better than their friendship.

  And now wasn’t that sad?

  Strangely enough, at that thought, the panic receded, and Elliot found himself able to breathe more easily. His stomach rumbled.

  Food first, then he could shower and change. There was no way he could make it to the hospital today, even if it meant breaking a promise. Sorry, Anna.

  He walked downstairs and found the food Emma had prepared for him. He was still eating when the doorbell rang. With the sandwich in hand, he left the kitchen, walked past the many useless rooms and went to open the door.

  “Oh, hi. Morning, Elliot.” Holly looked stunned.

  “Morning.”

  “Is Emma around?” Holly tried to peer around him, more for emphasis than to see.

  “She’s gone to the hospital.”

  “Oh.” She shuffled, then seemed to come to a decision as she pulled herself together. “I made some soup and biscuits for her. She has a bad habit of forgetting to eat when Mrs. J is in the hospital. Can you make sure she eats some of this when she gets home?”

  Elliot stared at the bag she held up and took it from her. It was good to see that Emma had friends who cared.

  “How is Mrs. J?” Holly asked again.

  “Hip fracture. She has her hip-pinning operation in”—Elliot lifted his wrist to study his watch—“now.”

  “Oh, okay. Maybe I’ll go visit later today then.”

  “Sure.”

  “Well, I’ll see you later.” Holly spun around to leave.

  “Wait. Holly?”

  She half turned to glance at him. “Yeah?”

  “What’s a good club around here these days?”

  An odd look passed over her face. Pity? Anger? Disgust? Elliot wasn’t sure as it flitted across her face so quickly. Not that he gave a shit.

  “Try Opus Bar on Davie,” she answered and shrugged before she walked down the few steps to the driveway.

  “Thanks,” Elliot muttered and closed the door behind him. Unsettled by Holly’s last expression, Elliot shuffled to drop the food off in the kitchen, storing the soup in the fridge, then made his way to the bar.

  The day passed by in a blur as he drank and browsed his phone without any goals until Elliot shuffled to the couch and lay down. His eyes grew heavy. Just a minute. He closed them with a yawn.

  A sudden text notification jolted him from the unintended nap, and he jerked up, almost dropping the device, which had been resting on his chest. He held the screen up and squinted.

  Emma.

  With a shaky hand, he unlocked his phone and tapped on the pop-up.

  Mom is fine. Surgery went well this morning. Depending on how she does, they may postpone her cancer surgery. Don’t know yet.

  I am going straight to my shift. Order delivery for dinner. Sorry.

  He should have been relieved. Instead, he gagged as if he were suffocating as his entire body overheated. Elliot grabbed at his collar and scrambled upstairs to his en suite bathroom. With hurried movements, he stripped himself, cranked on shower with cold water and jumped right in.

  The yelp he gave out bounced off the wall as the droplets pelted his skin like ice, but he sobered as much as the alcohol in his system allowed. He breathed out as he braced himself against the tiles and closed his eyes. It’d be okay.

  He fiddled with the faucet until the water warmed, and he cleaned himself with more control and grace before he stepped out and dried himself.

  Why did I promise to stay until Anna had her surgery? I am shit at this. I don’t need to see how this plays out. What if…? No, once is enough.

  Fuck.

  The phone sat beside the sink and taunted him. Elliot stared at it and grabbed it before he lost his nerve. He unlocked it and pulled up the message from Emma again.

  No panic this time. No flashbacks. His gaze wandered upward. The last message before the most recent one glared back at him, bringing a fresh bout of guilt.

  Haven’t heard from you in a while. Hope you’re okay.

  It was ten years ago when he’d last been in contact.

  Elliot chucked his phone across the bathroom. It smacked into the wall and landed with a crack. Pissed still, he abandoned it and left the bathroom to get dressed. His stomach growled.

  Right. He had been drinking, not eating. Elliot grabbed his watch from the dresser and strapped it on. Already six p.m. It was too late to order delivery, and with the plans he had already thought up, he was better off eating somewhere else.

  Elliot arranged his hair and dressed to look hot for the night—a pressed light blue shirt, darker blue vest and orange tie. Black tailored slacks. He grabbed his leather jacket with his wallet and keys and left.

  He ordered an Uber and poured himself another drink while he waited. The liquid suffused a more comforting warmth into his body than it had earlier. By the time the car arrived, a pleasant buzz filled his mind.

  “Where to?” the driver asked as he got in.

  “Downtown. Davie Street, please.” Dinner at one of those cafes, then the clubs. It was going to be a good night.

  * * * *

 
Emma dragged her feet as she walked through the door of the bar. At least she’d had the foresight to bring a change of clothing, but she couldn’t quite get the hospital smell out of her nostrils, nor what the doctor said out of her head.

  “Emma, babe. What’s wrong?” Andy hurried out from behind the bar.

  She looked up in surprise. “I didn’t know you were working today.”

  “Spring break still, remember? Boss still wanted backup, just in case.”

  “Right.” Emma rubbed her face.

  “What’s wrong?” Andy asked again and placed both hands on her shoulders, ducking so he could catch her eyes. “You look like shit.”

  Emma mustered a weak smile. “So charming, Andy.” But when he didn’t budge, she let out a long sigh. “Mom had a fall over the weekend. She had hip surgery but—”

  “Emma?”

  She swallowed hard and hurried with her words, so much that they almost blurred into each other. “You know they were trying to do chemo to shrink the tumor before surgery?”

  Andy nodded but said nothing else.

  “Well, after the hip surgery, they checked again. The cancer’s got to her intestines and the spleen.” Emma bit her lips hard to keep tears from springing forth. It was a losing battle.

  “Shit, Emma. Why are you even here?” Andy gripped her shoulders harder.

  “I… I figured it was too hard to get a last-minute sub. Plus I… I can’t. I just can’t… Please don’t send me away.” Emma sobbed at last.

  “Okay, okay.” He let go of her and glanced around. The bar had yet to fill. “Let me at least call Graham and see if he can come a few hours early. He’s supposed to take the late shift, anyway.”

  Too numb to protest, Emma lowered her head and wiped the tears away with the back of her hand. Never mind the smudge of her makeup.