Emily

by Jack Weyland

  “So you’re still sticking with that story, are you?” the girl asked cynically as she gave him the empty boxes.

  Once in the theater, Austin had to wait for his eyes to adjust to the dark. Then he slowly made his way down to the second row, precariously shuffled through the kids in the same row, and handed Meredith the cardboard containers he was carrying.

  “Where have you been?” Meredith whispered.

  “Long line at the snack bar.”

  “What about your seat?”

  “I brought some empty boxes to sit on.”

  In arranging the boxes, Austin knocked one of the drinks on the floor.

  His head was throbbing from the noise and from the tension from his argument with the manager and the girl in the lobby.

  “You want some popcorn?” he asked.

  “No, thanks.”

  “How about a drink? It’s grape.” He took a taste. “It tastes just like cheap cough syrup.”

  “No thanks. I’m fine.”

  “More for me then, right?”

  “I guess so.”

  A woman in a seat behind them leaned forward. “Could you two be quiet so we can watch the movie?”

  Austin leaned back and looked up at the distorted images. He turned around to face the woman behind him. “Excuse me, but how can you stand to sit this close? It’s like staring into a giant’s nose.”

  She was not amused. “Am I going to have to get the manager to get you to quiet down?”

  He turned around, rested his head on the backrest, and grabbed a big handful of popcorn. It was soaked in butter. By the time he finished one handful his hand and mouth were covered with grease.

  He leaned over to talk to Meredith. “My hands are so greasy, if I tried to hold your hand, it’d keep slipping off.”

  He finished about a third of the huge box, and then, feeling that he might get sick if he ate any more, he leaned over and scattered the rest on the floor to soak up the drink he’d spilled.

  He put his arm around Meredith and said, “So, you want to make out?”

  She started laughing. “In a Disney movie?”

  “Why not? It’s like they say . . .” He began singing the words to “It’s a Small World after All.”

  Unfortunately this was the saddest part of the movie. Everyone else was holding back their tears. But Austin and Meredith began laughing hysterically.

  “That does it,” the woman behind them said. “I’m getting the manager.” The woman took off up the aisle.

  “Oh, man, we’ve been busted,” Austin said. “Let’s get out of here.”

  They made a dash for the exit next to the screen, ran to the car, and drove away.

  “If my mom asks how the movie was, tell her it was real good,” Austin said.

  “Why not just tell her the truth?” Meredith replied.

  “No. That’d be a big mistake.”

  “How come? It’s a very funny story.”

  “She’d spend an hour telling me what I should have done. I can’t take that now. I’ve got a headache.”

  “This is very complicated, isn’t it?”

  “What?”

  “Your relationship with your mother.”

  He nodded. “You have no idea.”

  “Austin, if you end up liking me, will there be a part of you that will resent the fact that your mother got us together?”

  He shook his head. “I don’t know.” He sighed. “It’s a good question though.”

  “Yes, I think it is. Can you take me to my car now?”

  “Sure, no problem.”

  As she got into her car, Meredith said, “Next time you want to see me, come to Provo. And leave your mother at home. In your mind, too.”

  * * * * *

  On Sunday after church, Austin went over to see Emily to tell her about being with Meredith.

  “She sounds like a winner to me,” Emily said.

  “I suppose.”

  “You don’t sound all that convinced.”

  “Of all the rotten luck—she’s everything my mother said she was.”

  “And that’s a problem for you, isn’t it?” Emily asked. “You like her but you’re afraid to give your mom the satisfaction of admitting she knows what’s best for you.”

  “You are so far off the mark on this, Emily,” he said defensively.

  “I don’t think so. You’re just too proud to admit it. Look, Austin, just because your mom is for something doesn’t mean it’s a bad idea. I think you need to go see Meredith in Provo, on her turf, like Meredith suggested.”

  “You really think that might make a difference?”

  “There’s only one way to find out, isn’t there?”

  “Well, okay, I’ll give it a try. Thanks.”

  “You know what? My life will be so much simpler once you’re married off,” she said with a smile, which faded much too quickly.

  It was a new thought to him. “I just thought of something. Once I get married, we won’t be spending as much time together, will we?”

  Chapter 14

  “Are you serious? We won’t be spending any time together. You know that.”

  “I’ll miss that. You’re the one I always run to when I need someone to talk to.”

  “I’ve noticed that. Oh, there’s one thing I need to tell you.”

  “What’s that?”

  “If you share an Oh, baby! moment with Meredith, spare me the details, okay? I don’t really want to know about it.”

  * * * * *

  When Austin phoned Meredith in Provo, she seemed surprised but pleased to hear from him.

  “I’ll be down in Provo next weekend, so I was wondering if I could see you,” he said.

  “Only if you’ll play me another game of table tennis. I don’t lose easily.”

  “This will be good practice for you then,” he teased.

  “Good practice playing, or good practice losing?”

  “Losing, of course.”

  “We’ll see about that.” She paused. “Let’s see—things will be a little complicated for me, but I think we can work it out. I have a symphony concert Friday and Saturday nights, and a practice Saturday morning, but I’m sure we can work around that.”

  “I would even be willing to go to your concert.”

  “Oh, my gosh! Really? You must really like me then, to actually be willing to attend a symphony concert.”

  “Actually I’ve been to several concerts in my lifetime.”

  “Is that right?”

  “Oh, sure. In fact, I don’t really mind concerts where they play stuffy classical music. I mean, where else can you get together with five hundred people to take a nap?”

  She had an easy, infectious laugh. “Actually, that’s true.”

  “I’m glad you’re such a good sport about this.”

  “And I’m glad you’re coming to my concert,” she said.

  “It’s all part of the package. If you were a nurse, I’d give blood.”

  “Really? What if I were a mortician?”

  On Friday night Austin took Meredith to dinner before the concert, then got through the performance by eating candy. Whenever he felt sleepy, he’d pop another jelly bean into his mouth.

  They went for dessert after the concert. After they’d spent some time talking at the restaurant, he began to feel as though he’d spent the concert applauding the orchestra, and then afterwards, applauding her.

  “This summer I might have a chance to play with the Cleveland Symphony in their Young Artists Series. At least I’m one of the finalists.”

  “That’s really good,” he said.

  “The only trouble will be if it conflicts with me competing again for Miss Utah.”

  Austin knew he should say, Wow, Meredith, it must be great to be so talented! The only trouble was by that time of night he was tired of telling her how wonderful she was. Isn’t there anyone in your ward who needs your help? he thought.

  He stayed at Jeremy’s apartment that night. S
pending time with him was the best part of the weekend. He filled Jeremy in on what a good job Emily was doing as Relief Society president.

  “Also, she’s one of my best friends at USU,” he told Jeremy.

  Jeremy smiled. “Thanks, bud, for looking after her.”

  “Actually, she’s doing more for me than I’ll ever do for her.”

  The next morning Austin met Meredith at her symphony orchestra practice. Afterwards, she had some errands to run, and since she knew the area better than he did, she offered to drive her car.

  With Austin standing around looking bored, she spent over an hour shopping for a dress to wear in her next beauty pageant, but she didn’t find anything she wanted. By then she was running behind schedule, and she still needed to drop by the mall to pick up some things her hairstylist had ordered for her.

  Since it was a Saturday, the mall was crowded. After cruising the parking lot for a minute, Meredith pulled into a handicapped parking space and shut off the engine.

  “We can’t park here,” Austin said.

  “Why not?”

  “This is a handicapped parking space.”

  “I won’t be more than a couple of minutes.”

  “We still can’t park here.”

  “Why not?”

  “It’s illegal. Besides, I have a friend who’s in a wheelchair. He has cerebral palsy, and it’s very hard for his parents to get him around. They need to be able to park close to where they’re going.”

  “Where does your friend live?”

  “Logan.”

  Meredith took the keys out of the ignition and opened her door. “No problem. I promise I’ll never do this in Logan. Let’s go.” She stepped out of the car.

  Austin got out of the car. “I’m serious, Meredith. You can’t leave your car here.”

  “Why not? We’ve already taken longer arguing about this than it will take me to run in and get what I need.”

  “That’s not the point, and you know it.”

  “What is the point, Austin? That you have a few gimpy friends?”

  Austin threw up his hands. “I can’t believe you said that.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry—that isn’t the politically correct term, is it? How insensitive of me. How about mobility-challenged? There, does that make it all better, Austin? Now let’s go. I’m in a hurry.”

  “Meredith, look, we can work this out. Just give me the keys to your car. I’ll drive around until you’re done.”

  “That doesn’t make sense. We’re almost there.”

  “But what if someone who’s handicapped wants to park while we’re in here?”

  “Don’t feel sorry for the ones around here. They’re all just faking it to get easy parking.”

  “That’s not true.”

  “It is, though. Believe me. I see it all the time.”

  He caught up with her and stood in her way. “Answer me this—do you ever think of anyone but yourself?”

  “I really don’t need this now, Austin. I’ve got a concert tonight, and a pageant to prepare for. On top of all that, I’ve got homework and a paper due on Monday. I just wish you’d be a little more understanding of the pressure I’m under today.”

  “What pressure? What’s the absolute worst thing that could happen to you today? That you might flub a note in your precious concert? Who really cares? What if you’d lost twenty percent of your skin in a fire? What if you couldn’t do something as simple as turn a page or brush your teeth? You try living your life in a wheelchair for even one day and then you’ll know how easy you’ve got it.”

  “All right, Austin, that really is enough. You’ve made your point, okay? I’ll never do this again. There, are you satisfied now?” She gestured to a store coming up on their right. “Here’s where we’re going. Like I said, it’ll only take a minute.”

  A few minutes later they were out of the mall and headed back to Meredith’s car. There was a policeman standing next to it, writing out a ticket.

  “I told you not to park there,” Austin said.

  “It’s no problem. Do you want to be the one with a limp, or shall I do it?” Meredith said.

  “Just pay the ticket,” he grumbled.

  “Why should I? Watch this. It works every time. I’ll just tell him I lost my handicapped sticker.”

  She started limping toward her car. He wanted no part of any plan she might come up with to get out of paying the ticket, so Austin hung back.

  He watched as she used her charm and outright lies to talk her way out of getting a ticket.

  Austin approached them.

  “Thank you so much for being so understanding,” Meredith said, smiling warmly at the police officer.

  “Don’t let her off,” Austin said. “Give her the ticket. She’s lying about having a handicapped sticker. She faked the limp, too.”

  Meredith whirled around and glared at him.

  The ticket was for seventy-five dollars. Without another word, Meredith drove him to Jeremy’s apartment, dropped him off, and sped away.

  * * * * *

  On Friday, while passing through Ogden on his way to BYU, Austin had dropped off his laundry at home for his mother to wash. And so, on Saturday afternoon, on his way back to Logan, he stopped by to pick up his clean clothes.

  When he stepped inside the house, all he wanted was to gather his things and leave, but he knew that wasn’t going to happen. The only question in his mind was how big an argument was he going to get into with his mother. It depended on how much he dared to tell her.

  “Well, how did it go with Meredith?” she asked.

  “Not too good, actually. We probably won’t be seeing each other again.”

  “What happened?”

  He didn’t want to explain. He just wanted to go back to Logan. “It just didn’t work out, that’s all.”

  “But there must be a reason.”

  “Mother, please, don’t start. I’ve got a killer headache, and I feel a little sick to my stomach. Just let me pick up my things and leave and then I’ll e-mail you a complete explanation tomorrow.” He hurried to his room and started to pack up.

  His mother intercepted him before he made it out the door.

  “At least give me some kind of explanation.”

  Don’t talk. You’ll only make it worse, he thought.

  “I will later, but I can’t now.” He stepped past her and went out to the car and shoved everything in the trunk.

  “You should hang the shirts up and not just throw them in the trunk,” she said.

  “Why can’t you leave me alone!” he shouted, slamming the trunk of the car shut.

  Her mouth dropped open.

  “You’re always after me to do something, just like you were in high school. Well, I’m not in high school anymore! I’m different than I used to be! I’m different now than before my mission! I know you can’t see that, but it’s the truth, and you’ve got to recognize it because I can’t stand to have you always managing me!”

  He jumped in his car and backed it hard out of the driveway.

  Halfway back to school, racked with conscience, he stopped and opened the trunk of the car and hung his ironed shirts carefully on the hooks in the backseat of his car.

  That night, he knelt to say a prayer but nothing would come. What a hypocrite I am. I keep saying I’m a disciple of Jesus Christ, but I don’t act that way. I yell at my mother and, out of spite, betray Meredith’s friendship. There must have been a better way to teach Meredith to be more considerate of the handicapped than to end up costing her seventy-five dollars.

  It’s so hard being off my mission and having to deal with so many things all at once. It’s like being on a slippery slope. Every time I try to go up, I end up sliding further down.

  Disgusted at the direction his life was taking, he shook his head. I’m just like everyone else now.

  * * * * *

  On Sunday after church, Austin took a walk with Emily. He told her about his weekend with Meredith.

>   “I’m sorry it didn’t work out,” she said.

  “Yeah, me too. Well, it’s okay. When you’re fishing a river, and you don’t catch anything in one place, you just move upstream and try a different place.”

  She smiled. “Why is it, that, to a guy, everything in life is like some sport? My gosh, it must be nice to be able to think in such simplistic terms.”

  He wasn’t about to let her get away with that. “And I’m sure it’s great to think that every church lesson requires a tablecloth, a centerpiece, and some artsy doodad handout. I mean, what has that got to do with anything?”

  She couldn’t help but laugh. “Okay, you made your point. Truce?”

  “Truce.” He paused. “So, the thing is, right now I’m out of prospects. You’re a Relief Society president; you know a lot of girls. How about picking out a few for me?”

  “I’m not running a dating service here, Austin.”

  “I realize that, but you know me, and you know the girls in your ward. There must be at least one you can come up with.”

  “I’ll think about it and let you know, okay?”

  They ended up in her apartment, sitting at the kitchen table, eating Oreo cookies.

  “Do you know what people in your ward say about you?” he asked.

  “Not really.”

  “They say that when you look into someone’s eyes, you can see all the way into their heart.” He paused. “By the way, do you see anything in my eyes?”

  “No, I’m sure I don’t.”

  “Well, maybe if you tried . . .”

  They gazed into each other’s eyes. “So, what do you see?” he asked.

  She looked into his dark brown eyes. “I see a guy who’s willing to do whatever he can for a friend.”

  He smiled. “Anything else?”

  “If you want to hear nice things about yourself, buy a box of fortune cookies.”

  He laughed. “Maybe I’ll do that.”

  “I’m sorry. That wasn’t very nice of me to say, was it?”

  “Emily, it’s me, remember?” He got a knife and split open the two halves of a cookie and scraped the frosting off, then ate the cookie.