by L. D. Davis
“I’m not going,” I said to Emmy and kicked the dress to the floor.
She watched the dress fall to the floor. She looked at it for a long moment, surprised, and then looked at me. Her eyes narrowed.
“What’s wrong? Did your mom do something to you?”
“No,” I said. “I don’t feel good. I don’t want to go.”
“But…” she didn’t know what to say. I always went.
“I’m not going,” I said firmly. “Wish Emmet well.”
“But…” her head tilted. “Why?”
“I just told you I don’t feel good,” I snapped.
“I guess I believe you,” she snapped back. “You look like shit.”
I didn’t answer her. She snatched the dress up off of the floor and hung it back up.
“Well, then I guess you’ll be over later tonight?”
Fred had rented a trailer to attach to the back of his truck for the move. Emmy and I were going to ride with Emmet while Sam and Fred followed behind us with Emmet’s belongings.
“I don’t think I’m going to Cambridge either,” I told her.
“Emmet’s going to be disappointed,” she frowned.
“I highly doubt it.”
Her frown deepened.
“You’re my best friend, Donya,” she said, crossing her arms. “I know you. I know you aren’t sick. Something has happened. What is it?”
I almost laughed. If she knew me so damn well then she should have been able to see how much I loved her brother, but she didn’t.
“Maybe I have what my mom has,” I said quietly.
Her eyes widened. “Depression?”
“Maybe,” I said.
“Oh, D,” she said, rushing over to the bed. I didn’t want to be touched, but I let her hug me. “Maybe I should stay with you.”
“No,” I said quickly. “I’ll be okay. Just let me take a couple of days to get myself together. I’ll be okay.”
“Did you tell your mom?”
“No. No need to tell her. She was about to go work almost a double shift. She didn’t need to know.”
Emmy sighed and then pushed loose strands of hair off my forehead.
“Is there anything I can do?”
“Go eat a lot of food and annoy your mom,” I forced a smile.
“I can manage that,” she smiled gently. “I love you, D.”
“I love you, too.”
“I’ll call to check on you later, okay? Make sure you answer or I’m going to worry.”
“I’ll answer,” I promise.
She got up, offered a few more kind words and left me alone.
“Finally,” I breathed and rolled over to fall back into darkness.
*~*~*
Emmy called me after dinner later that night. She offered to come over and stay with me, but I insisted that I wanted to be left alone. I asked her about dinner; though I wasn’t really sure I wanted to know the details. She said it was fine, but Emmet seemed a little on the quiet side, but she couldn’t figure out why.
“Probably some floosy got to him,” she had joked, not knowing that I was the floosy.
She asked me to reconsider the ride to Cambridge, because there was bound to be plenty of hot college guys to cheer me up. I declined again, but at least gave her the impression that I was a little regretful that I’d miss the hot college guys. What about saying goodbye to Emmet? Was I going to say goodbye to Emmet?
“I’m pretty sure Emmet’s world won’t end if I don’t come say goodbye,” I had said, trying to sound light about it, but it was anything but light. My world was going to come to an end because I wasn’t going to say goodbye.
I listened patiently while she talked about Leo and his kissing skills. Leo was a good looking guy, but hearing about kissing made me think of kissing Emmet. It didn’t look like I’d be kissing him again.
My sadness began to consume me and I couldn’t stand to stay on the phone a minute longer with Emmy and all of her cluelessness. I told her I was going to watch television and go to bed and that she should consider going to bed, too since they were leaving bright and early in the morning. She offered once more to come stay the night with me, but I convinced her that I was fine though I was anything but. I loved her and appreciated her, but she needed to go.
When I finally hung up with her, I lay in my bed staring up at the ceiling. Staring at the ceiling made me think of being in Emmet’s bed and staring at the ceiling while he did incredible things to my body. When I realized that I had moved my hand over my breast while deep in my memories, I gasped, moved my hand away and got out of the bed.
I left my room and walked down the dark hallway to the living room. I turned on a light on my way to the kitchen. My stomach growled loudly, demanding to be fed since I hadn’t eaten anything since before the party, but I didn’t have the energy to chew. I could deal with the hunger pangs; I had ignored them most of the day.
I kneeled down and opened the cabinet door next to the fridge. Inside were several bottles of various sizes. There was wine, vodka, tequila, whiskey, brandy, and more. My mom wasn’t much of a drinker, but my dad was. For whatever reason, she never got rid of the booze.
Emmy drank when she was mad, sad, happy, horny, melancholy and just for the hell of it. It was rather disturbing how much a sixteen year old girl could drink, but I wasn’t a drinker, much like my mother. I drank at some parties, but for the most part, since that one night at Jorge’s, I didn’t drink much at all.
I reached into the cabinet and pulled out a bottle of red wine. I liked the taste of wine, much more than I liked the taste of beer or anything else. I found a corkscrew, pulled the cork out and grabbed a wine glass. If I was going to do something I shouldn’t do, I figured I may as well do it in style.
I filled the glass and then held it close to my nose as I inhaled the scent. Then I put the glass to my lips and sipped. My shoulders relaxed as the sweet liquid drifted over my taste buds. Grateful for the smooth, delicious taste, I tipped the glass again and drank with more enthusiasm.
When I finally began to feel drunk from the wine, I welcomed it and the dreamless bliss it brought to me later in the night.
*~*~*
I woke up before dawn, wondering if Emmet had discovered the gifts I had buried in his suitcase. I had done it before the party. His suitcases were already mostly packed at the time. Chances were he wouldn’t discover the two jars until he was already at Cambridge. Yesterday when I knew that no one was home at the Grayne’s, I had been tempted to walk over there and take back the gifts, but after I thought about it, I knew that I wanted him to have them.
I had filled one large Mason jar with Hershey Kisses. Under the lid I had quoted John Keats: Now a soft kiss - Aye, by that kiss, I vow an endless bliss.
The second jar was just as large, but contained only one item – a single candy heart. It was one of those candies with the cute little sayings on them that are hard to find outside of Valentine’s Day, but I found some in a specialty candy store in the mall. The single heart in the jar said one word: Mine. Under the lid for that jar, I wrote: I only have one heart to give to you. Handle it with care.
I wanted Emmet to keep the jars. He was the only person I wanted to have my kisses and despite our sad circumstances, he still possessed my heart.
I stood in the living room window as the sun began to rise. I stood stock still for a long time until I felt the familiar tug. I put my palms flat against the glass as the line stretched, twisted, and resisted. It stretched and stretched and stretched and yanked on me until I was sure my insides would burst from my body and splatter, bloody and dead on the window. He was gone, and when I really understood that and felt his loss, I collapsed to the floor in mourning.
Chapter Eighteen
Oh, how naïve I had been.
I truly believed that after my meeting with Max, he would just start sending me to various clients for work. I didn’t imagine that I’d find work quickly, but I at least expected that by the time
the end of October rolled around that I would have at least been on a freakin’ casting call or go-see. I was so wrong!
Max first gave me hell for taking too long to get back to him. By his estimate, I should have been clamoring to get into his office the week after he first met me. Then the jerk flipped through my portfolio with disgust and tossed the book back to me.
“I look good in those photographs,” I snapped at him as I caught the book.
My mother laid a gentle hand on my arm, implying that I be patient. I had been pretty snappy with people since the end of August.
“Yeah, you look very pretty,” Max said dismissively. “But pretty doesn’t sell – unless you want to advertise twenty dollar dresses for K-Mart.”
I frowned.
“I don’t want to do commercial modeling,” I said. “I want to do high fashion.”
He sighed and leaned back in his seat. “Stand up.”
“What?”
“Stand up. Up!” He raised his hands impatiently.
I passed my mom the portfolio and stood up.
“Stand over there,” he waved with his hand. I walked to the general place he waved to. “Spin around – slowly.”
Sucking in a breath so that I wouldn’t snap at him again, I spun in a slow circle.
“You’ve aged since I last saw you,” he said bitterly.
“What? That was only the beginning of summer!”
“You’re a child,” he said. “Children grow.”
Well, duh, I thought, but remained silent and waited for him to speak again.
“Okay, sit down,” he said with a sigh.
“So, can you work with her, or not?” my mom asked as I took my seat beside her.
“She got old, but yeah. I can work with her.”
So, my old butt sat there, expecting him to give me clients to go see and what I got was an appointment with a test photographer. The test photographer basically did the same things Tori did, but I didn’t argue. I guess I passed the ‘test’ because Max was really happy with my new portfolio.
Again, I thought the phone would be ringing off of the hook, but after weeks of getting tutored at home for nothing and missing everything going on in school with my friends, I got pissed off enough to venture into New York by myself. I told Emmy where I was going, but I didn’t tell my mom or my other parents. I stormed into Max’s office – well…I tried to storm into Max’s office, but I was stopped first by security that had to call up to the agency to let them know I was there. Then I got stopped by the main receptionist, and again by Max’s secretary. Finally, when I was able to storm into his office, I was exhausted.
“You told me I was exquisite!” I said, slamming my palms onto his desk. “You said I had potential!”
He looked up at me, not at all fazed by my tantrum.
“Yeah, you are and you do,” he said casually and looked back to his computer.
“Then why am I still sitting in Jersey staring at the walls?” I demanded.
He looked me up and down. He actually stood up, leaned in close to me and dropped his eyes to my feet on the floor. I was confused, but said nothing, nor did I back away from him.
“It looks like you’re standing in my office in New York City, Donya, not sitting in New Jersey.”
I wanted to punch him, but I kept my cool and met his eyes, only inches from mine.
“Max,” I said his name sweetly. “If you’re waiting for me to kiss your ass to get me some work, you will be waiting a very long time.”
“You have balls to come into my office and talk to me like that. I am the man who can make or break you.”
A corner of my mouth pulled up into a soft smirk. “Max, I am shattered inside. If you think you can break me anymore than that, I welcome you to try.”
His eyes narrowed and discriminated. Then he sighed and sat back down in his chair.
“I think I have the perfect client to send you to.”
*~*~*
“Did you brush your hair?” my mom asked me, as she got into her bed.
“One hundred strokes,” I murmured as I flipped through an issue of Vogue.
“Did you moisturize?”
“All greased up,” I answered.
“How do your nails look?”
I dropped the magazine on my lap and sighed as I looked over at her. I was glad she was with me. I was glad she wasn’t only with me, but truly trying to be a loving mother, but she was driving me bat-shit.
“Mom, my nails look as good as they’re going to get. I’m going to sleep in a few minutes so I won’t wake up with red eyes, okay? Everything will be fine.”
She nodded. “Okay,” she said. “Okay.”
She pulled back the blanket and bedspread and got into bed. I went back to reading my magazine even though I could feel her eyes on me.
“What?” I finally said, dropping the magazine again.
“I’m really proud of you,” she said softly.
I snorted. “Mom, I haven’t done anything yet,” I said bitterly.
I had been on several casting calls and had actually had a few call backs and landed some decent gigs. We had been at it for months now. My mother quit her job as a waitress to travel with me. It made way more sense than the Grayne’s hiring some stranger to chaperone me or having someone from Max’s company glued to my hip. I didn’t think my mom wanted the task, especially after the cruel things she had said to me the day I returned from Louisiana, but she surprised me – she surprised all of us. She drove me to Emmy’s one day and we all sat around the table discussing it. She didn’t want the Grayne’s to have to pay for everything, but they came to some kind of agreement I wasn’t privy to because I was sent out of the room. That made no sense to me since it was about me.
My relationship with my mom began to change that first day when I couldn’t get out of bed after my breakup with Emmet. When she came home from work and found me worse than how she left me, she stepped up to the plate. Fortunately, she didn’t ask me a lot of questions. She just made herself available for me. She hugged me, she smoothed my hair, and kissed my head – all of the things I always wanted from her and never got. All it took was my first real broken heart.
“You’re trying really hard,” she said to me in the hotel room, months after we started on this venture. “When someone tells you you’re too skinny, too fat, too short, too tall, too old or too young, or too dark, you shrug it off and move on to the next one.”
What I didn’t tell her, is that when someone called me too fat, I surreptitiously skipped meals. When someone said I was too skinny, I ate a candy bar. When I was looked at with disgust or boredom, I waited until I was in the shower that night to cry about it. I didn’t tell her any of that. I simply shrugged and said “Someone will eventually think I’m just right.”
*~*~*
Work was trickling in. Some of it was behind the scenes stuff, like being a human mannequin for designers. I had several photo shoots for various publications and a couple of them were with big designers for ads that ran in Vogue and Vanity Fair. I wasn’t what I’d call a model in demand, but I didn’t complain. I was gaining experience and learning about the business. I was also learning patience and restraint, because many of the girls I encountered in the industry were straight up bitches. I didn’t get into any physical altercations, but I quickly had to let a few of them know that this Jersey girl wasn’t really down for any catty shit.
“I will beat your ass and ground my Blahnik into your skull as I step on you to continue on to the next gig,” I had told Inga, one of the girls I repeatedly had to work with.
Between working, looking for work, and my schooling, my contact with Emmy and the family began to slip. For the most part, it couldn’t be helped, but admittedly, I avoided the holidays. I didn’t want to have to face Emmet, not yet. In the late winter, however, I wanted to spend some time with the family. Though I had been home several times over the months, I had never stayed more than a couple of days because I was sucking up
every little bit of work I could get. But I needed some comforts of home. I needed Emmy and her undying friendship. I needed Sam and her craziness. I needed Fred and his warm fatherly ways. I needed to sleep in my room at the Grayne’s that used to be Lucy’s. The other things that I needed were sadly unattainable and several hours north of home.
I also thought my mom needed a rest. She had been traipsing all over New York with me and we had taken two trips to L.A. She was looking more and more worn down and tired. All of the activity was apparently draining her more than I would have expected. My mom wasn’t old, she was only in her late thirties, but she laughed about her aches and pains more than any older person I knew. She tried to joke about it and claim it was her old age kicking in, along with years of inactivity, but I suspected there was more, though I could not for the life of me figure out what that may have been.
But she kept chugging along without much complaint, and she was so different from the person she was a year before, I didn’t complain either.
Another reason I needed to be home was because Emmy needed me. There was a lot going on in her life. She admitted to me one night in the late fall that she had been getting high with Tack and Mayson on a regular basis. I chastised her and she promised it wasn’t a problem. By the time New Year’s had passed by, the three of them were doing heavier stuff than weed, though Emmy never clarified what. She was in essence, their supplier, because she had significantly more funds than her middle class cousins, but Emmy started to hate the way the drugs made her feel.
“I hate needing it,” she had cried on the phone. “Mayson and Tack are getting really bad. Tack’s failing all of his college courses and Mayson is making really, really bad decisions. She’s dating this guy…my god, he’s awful, Donya. He keeps her high and I think when she’s bothering to eat, she’s doing the finger throat thing, because he likes her thinner. He’s called her a fat pig in front of everyone and instead of punching him in the face like she should, she promises to do better. What the hell!” She screamed in frustration.
I wanted to ask so many questions, but I had to let her finish with her tearful rant and confessions.
