Tethered

by L. D. Davis

  Emmy snickered beside me. I elbowed her. She wouldn’t be laughing in a few years when she was put in a similar position.

  “I’ll join you guys during the last week,” Emmet said patiently. I could tell he was trying to appease his mom.

  “That’s not good enough. You have cousins and aunts and uncles and friends down there that are looking forward to see you before you go away to school.”

  “It’s not like he’s going to school on the moon,” I muttered.

  “I heard that Donya Elisabeth Stewart,” Sam snapped.

  “Whoa,” Emmy said with amusement. “Full name.”

  “Ya’ll think this is funny and it’s not,” Sam whined.

  Emmet put his pizza down and rested his chin on his folded hands and listened as Sam continued to rant. I felt bad for him. It was his last summer before he was forced to behave somewhat like an adult, and Harvard was no joke. There wouldn’t be too much time for fooling around. Part of me felt he wasn’t going because I would be there, but I told myself how conceited that sounded and shut the thought down.

  I cleared my throat and cut Sam off.

  “He should stay,” I said. I felt Emmet’s eyes fall on me. “If you force him to go, he’ll be miserable the entire time. Do you really want his last summer as a kid to be miserable?”

  Sam sputtered for a moment. “But what about Lucy’s wedding?”

  “I won’t miss the wedding,” Emmet promised.

  “You’re not going to get your way on this one,” Fred told his wife gently. “Let it go.”

  “Can I stay home, too?” Emmy asked with hope.

  “No,” Sam, Fred, and Emmet said at the same time.

  Sam stopped bugging, but she frowned her way through dinner and barely spoke, which appeased all.

  After dinner, I left to go spend the rest of my time with my mom. I made it around the block before I felt the familiar tug and Emmet pulled to the curb. I stopped walking and hesitated before approaching the car. We had barely spoken more than a handful of words since that night on the boardwalk. He had written me a simple apologetic note that said “I’m sorry.” I didn’t acknowledge it and he didn’t push.

  I stopped a foot away from the car.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “For what?”

  “Speaking up for me at dinner.”

  I gave a half shrug. “I would have done the same for anyone. No big deal.”

  He flinched a little. He thought I had done it because I cared. I did, but he didn’t need to know that.

  “You haven’t forgiven me,” he said, frowning.

  I shrugged again. “I forgive you. You won’t be the last guy to call me a slut.”

  His eyes darkened. “I didn’t call you a slut, Donya.”

  “You implied it. Same difference.”

  “I would never call you that.”

  “Maybe not directly, but accusing me of getting felt up by Andrew isn’t any better.”

  “I was jealous,” he argued softly.

  “Well, I get jealous, too,” I snapped. “But you don’t see me making remarks about Stella.”

  He raised an eyebrow. “You’ve made a couple of references to couches.”

  I bit my lip and crossed my arms defensively. Emmet sighed.

  “I didn’t come here to fight with you. I just wanted to thank you.”

  “You’re welcome,” I said curtly.

  “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  He gave me a final look of regret and drove off.

  *~*~*

  My tether was stretched to the point of pain. I thought it would get better with each passing day, but it didn’t. It got worse. I tried to keep myself busy while I was in Louisiana, even going as far as spending a day cooking and baking with Sam and arguing with her, but the ache was still there. I wondered if he ached, too? Or if he was just having so much fun with his friends and various girls that he didn’t notice?

  “What’s on your mind, Kiddo?” Fred asked me one morning at our fishing spot.

  I looked over at him. “Who said there’s anything on my mind?”

  “A father knows these things,” he grinned. His words warmed me and I smiled. “Now tell me what’s going on in that teenage head of yours.’

  I couldn’t tell him the truth, that I was in way over my head – the in part was being in love – with his youngest son who is supposed to be like a brother to me.

  That was the first time I really admitted it to myself. I was pretty sure I was in love with Emmet. I couldn’t feed myself any BS about my tender age. Absence really did make the heart grow fonder.

  “I like a guy,” I said slowly, deciding to give Fred some of the truth.

  He groaned. “Go on.”

  “You have to promise not to hold anything I say against me. It wouldn’t be fair.”

  He looked at me with amused suspicion. “Am I going to have to crack some guy’s skull?”

  The image of him cracking Emmet’s skull made me shudder. “No skull cracking,” I said, shaking a finger at him.

  “I will not make that promise, Kiddo. Continue.”

  I inhaled slowly and let it out in a rush. “He’s…incredible,” I said softly with a faint smile. “He makes me feel incredible. I have this really strong connection with him. I can feel him when he’s near and when he’s not, I feel…like a part of me isn’t with me at all, but gone with him.”

  Fred looked grim. It must have been hard for him to sit there and listen to this from a kid who wasn’t even supposed to be dating.

  “I keep pushing him away,” I admitted. “I told him I’m not ready for all of the things I’m feeling. I don’t want to be like so many girls my age. Their world revolves around these guys and when it falls apart it gets really ugly and they lose all focus on the things that matter. I lost enough of my childhood to my parents’ issues. I don’t want to lose any more of it to all of the drama that comes with relationships. I want to be a teenage, carefree kid as long as I can, because once these years are gone, they’re gone.”

  Fred looked at me with a sympathetic smile. “For someone who wants to be young forever, you sure have a grown up way of thinking.”

  “I just think it’s a responsible way of thinking.”

  “Since when are teenage, carefree kids responsible?” He chuckled.

  “You know what I mean,” I smiled. “Besides, I’m not even supposed to be dating.”

  Fred straightened up in his chair. I could tell that he was thinking before speaking, something Sam never learned to do.

  “How old is this kid?” Fred asked casually.

  “A couple of years older than me,” I said carefully.

  He looked at me thoughtfully for a long time. I felt like he was seeing right through me, that he knew I was talking about Emmet.

  “Donya,” he said and then his shoulders dropped a little. “I’m not condoning a serious relationship at your age, but…” He looked like he may not finish, but took a breath and went forward. “You are a sensible kid. You are older than your years because of the things you have gone through. You can’t compare yourself to people in your age group because you’ve already lived a little longer than they have, at least mentally and emotionally. I don’t think that what you’re experiencing is trivial or something that will just pass as things do with kids your age. Because it’s you we’re talking about, and not say, Emmy or Lucy, I know this guy is probably as incredible as you say. You are young and you should enjoy these years, but…” he struggled for words and I hung onto every one. “Maybe this guy is supposed to be part of these years. Maybe you will only experience happiness and not all of the…drama as you kids say.”

  He leaned towards me and it looked like he was going to confess something to me. I leaned forward, too.

  “I married Sam when she was only nineteen, but I fell in love with her when she was only fifteen. She was your age, Donya, and I was a little bit older than Emmet. Things were different back then. Kids we
re raised differently. Society as a whole was different. If I was raising you girls in those times, you would be free to date – under my watchful eye, of course. Things were different and it was a long time ago, but it doesn’t mean that you can’t experience what Sam and I experienced. Maybe this guy is your forever, Donya, and maybe he came at an unexpected time, but maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to push him away.”

  He got to his feet, as his line had a bite. He looked back at me and said all parental like “But I’m not condoning a serious relationship.”

  “But…how will I know what the right thing is?” I called after him.

  “When you’re doing it,” he called back to me.

  I sat back in my seat and considered my options.

  Chapter Ten

  Lucy’s wedding was the third weekend of July. Emmet was due to arrive three days before the event, but five days away from the wedding night, I woke up in the middle of the night because I felt the band between us retracting. I sat there in the dark in disbelief for a few minutes. I could have just been imagining it. The whole idea that there was an invisible tether between us sometimes seemed ridiculous in my head anyway. Maybe I dreamed of Emmet and that’s why I was feeling that way.

  I got out of bed. My mouth was dry and it was a hot and sticky night. I needed some water and maybe a slice of the lemon cake Sam had made earlier. When I stepped into the hallway, I stopped and listened. I thought I heard some movement, but then it could have been coming from behind any one of the closed doors. All but one of Emmy’s siblings was in the house, plus spouses and children, and a few other relatives and friends. I shrugged it off and quietly made my way down the stairs.

  In the kitchen, I poured myself a cup of iced tea instead of water and started to slice myself a piece of cake. The feeling that Emmet was near did not subside, but felt more intense. I rubbed my chest with one hand, trying to figure out what was wrong with me. He obviously wasn’t there. I was one of the last ones to go to bed and he had not been there and whenever he was mentioned no one said “Hey, Emmet is coming tonight.”

  “I’ll just eat my cake and go to bed,” I whispered harshly to myself. “I’m imagining things.”

  When a hand closed over my shoulder, I spun around with the butter knife poised to…well…butter…and with a scream in my throat, but a hand clamped over my mouth to muffle the scream. It took me a few seconds to understand what I was seeing, but then my eyes narrowed on the form of the quietly laughing man in front of me.

  “I couldn’t resist,” Emmet whispered through his laughter. “You walked right past me in the living room and then you were in here talking to yourself.”

  I pushed his hand off my mouth. “I could have stabbed you to death!”

  He looked at the butter knife in my hand. “With that?” He looked at it with amusement.

  “Shut up,” I said and quickly lowered the knife. “What are you doing here? I didn’t see you on the couch. Why were you sitting on the couch in the dark?”

  “I decided to come down a little early,” he said, reaching behind me for my slice of cake. “I thought mom would appreciate that.” He pinched off a piece of cake between his fingers and offered it to me. Not in my hand. He put it at my lips.

  I opened and allowed him to gently push the cake in my mouth. It was like the ice-cream all over again. He took the next bite.

  “I was sitting on the couch because I was exhausted and I just wanted to stretch out for a little while before I came in here and looked for food.”

  He offered me another piece of cake and I accepted. I felt relief I hadn’t felt in weeks with him standing so close to me. That invisible line between us wasn’t fooling with me. He really was here. I would never doubt the tether again.

  I had considered Fred’s words hard. I felt better after talking to him, but I had come to no definitive conclusions. I had no idea what to do with my feelings for Emmet. I felt like my indecision was further proof that I shouldn’t get involved with him. Besides, I didn’t know if in my absence he had picked up another girlfriend or not. My pondering could be for nothing.

  “Do you want me to heat up some leftovers for you?” I asked him after another bite of cake.

  He smiled. It made me sigh inside. “Please, thank you.”

  I moved away from him and went to the refrigerator. I started pulling out the leftover fried chicken, fried okra, smashed potatoes and corn on the cob.

  “I heard about your modeling opportunity,” he said as I worked.

  “Oh,” I laughed lightly. “Yeah. Turns out Max was the real deal and not some pervert picking up teenage girls on the boardwalk.”

  “You think you’ll do it?”

  “I don’t know,” I said glancing at him as I put the plate loaded with food into the microwave. “I’m still not sure that I’m modeling material.”

  “I think you’re modeling material,” he said sincerely.

  “Thanks,” I said as I pulled open the fridge to put the food back inside. “Your parents set me up with a photographer for tomorrow. We’ll see how the photos turn out. How’s Jersey? Are you having fun without your parents around?”

  “It’s okay. I had a couple of parties. The cops weren’t as nice the second time as they were the first time.”

  I looked at him. “Emmet!” I laughed. “Better hope Sam doesn’t find out.”

  “I just hope she won’t notice that I had her antique couch professionally cleaned after someone puked all over it. That would be far worse than knowing the cops showed up and took our kegs.”

  “Someone threw up on the antique couch?” I had to try not to shout as I stared at him with wide eyes.

  We couldn’t even look at the couch sideways without Sam going on about how we’d better not get anything on it.

  Grinning ear to ear, Emmet nodded and offered me the final bite of cake. I took it. His grin faded some as he used his thumb to wipe a crumb off of the corner of my mouth.

  “You owe me another slice of cake,” I said as I turned to the microwave.

  “We’ll share another slice when I’m done eating,” he said.

  I rolled my eyes and said over my shoulder “Sit down.”

  He complied just before I put the hot plate on the table. I got him some silverware and poured him a glass of iced tea. I got my own tea and sat down near him. I loved that the tension that had been between us weeks before was now gone. I was glad to be near him again.

  “Tell me what you’ve been up to,” he said and began to eat.

  I talked to him about the usual things I did during my Louisiana summers. I told him about swimming in the lake, fishing with Fred, napping in the hammock and playing football with whatever kids showed up for the day. I told him about the time the bathroom doorknob broke and I was locked in the bathroom and about my failed attempt at baking bread with his mom. By the time I ran out of stuff to talk about, he had been long finished with his plate and had cut a huge slice of cake.

  “Sounds like you’re having a good summer,” he said, offering me a piece of the cake.

  I opened my mouth and let him feed me the cake. I chewed slowly and thoughtfully as I looked at him.

  “I’m not,” I said after I swallowed.

  “You’re not what?” he asked, confused.

  “I’m not having a good summer.”

  He looked at me with concern now. “Why not? What’s wrong?”

  “You’re not here,” I said softly.

  He looked at me for a silent moment and then looked away. “You wanted me to stay away. So, I did.”

  “I was wrong.”

  His eyes met mine. He looked hopeful. He also looked doubtful. He fed me cake.

  The silence that hung between us made it difficult to breathe. We didn’t speak. We shared the cake until the slice was gone. When the plate was empty between us and he still hadn’t spoken, I put my hand on the table and stretched my fingers to touch his. I just barely stopped myself from gasping when he withdrew his hand a few
inches to escape my touch. I snatched my hand away, picked up the empty plate and took it to the sink. I quickly washed the dishes we had used with trembling hands. I felt so disappointed, angry at myself, humiliated, and sad. I couldn’t even blame Emmet for not wanting to be bothered with me.

  I blinked back tears as I washed the last dish. I turned the water off, dried my hands on a dishtowel and moved away from the sink.

  “Goodnight,” I managed to say to Emmet as I made a wide berth around him. “I’m glad you got here safely.”

  “Thank you,” he said, watching me.

  I left him sitting at the kitchen table and hurried to my room where I could cry alone in the dark. I hated that I was crying at all. I hated that Emmet had the power to make me cry. I kind of hated Emmet for having that power over me.

  I wiped at my stupid tears and lay in bed staring at the ceiling fan. It was fairly dark in my room, but I could hear the hum of the fan above me. I wondered if I should talk to Emmy about Emmet. She had no clue that there had been anything between us. I hid it well. Emmet hid it well. I wasn’t sure why I had not told her when we told each other everything. I knew about every boy she kissed and how far she went with them in great detail. She told me about the hidden bottle of tequila in her closet and the bag of weed at the back of her underwear drawer. She shared her thoughts and feelings with me on everything from her mother to her cousins and even told me her biggest insecurities. She trusted me implicitly, yet I withheld much from her. Emmy should have been the first person I told after Emmet kissed me, and really, it would have been good to have someone to talk to after he had insulted me on the boardwalk. I didn’t tell her that I felt brokenhearted when I created my Valentine’s Day painting. I had shrugged as if I hadn’t had a clue when she asked me where my inspiration had come from.

  Emmy didn’t have a big mouth. I didn’t for a second believe that she would blab about Emmet and me to anyone, but I guess I didn’t want to be hassled about the fact that it was Emmet that I experienced all of these things with. He’s her brother and he was supposed to be like a brother to me. I didn’t want to hear her disgusted remarks, her jokes, or her objections. The whole situation already felt weird, and I really thought that with Emmy involved, it would feel extra weird, but now I was reconsidering. I felt like I was going to vomit out my heart, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to need it anymore.