Emily

by Jack Weyland

They walked around the temple grounds for another few minutes, enjoying the beauty of the snow-covered landscape and being close to the tall, rock building. While they walked, Emily debated in her mind if she should open herself up to him.

  Finally she decided to risk it. “I have something I need to tell you.”

  “Okay.”

  “When I was in the burn center, the pain was so bad that sometimes I didn’t think I could stand it another minute. I prayed for Heavenly Father to help me.” Barely able to talk, she whispered, “And he did.”

  She wiped her eyes. “I found that Jesus Christ was able to help me get through the hurt. I found out that he loves me.”

  “That’s an important lesson,” Austin said, “but what a hard way to learn it.”

  “It was, but, you know what, lately I’ve been thinking—if I could go back in time to the morning of the day I was burned, and if I were given a choice, to continue on the way I was going, or else experience what I’ve gone through, what would I choose?”

  “What did you decide?”

  “I would never want to give up what I’ve learned about the Savior. So I guess that answers the question.”

  They had come to a bench where they sat down, holding hands and looking out over Logan and the bright sun reflecting off the snow-covered farmland of Cache Valley. They sat for a time without speaking.

  Then Austin smiled and said, “Isn’t it interesting? Things didn’t work out for either of us the way we’d planned, yet it’s okay. You got burned, but ended up learning something you might not have discovered any other way. I wanted to be a mission leader, but now I can see it was better for me that I wasn’t.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “It’s not good to think of yourself as the hope of the world when there’s only One Hope of the World.”

  He was looking at her. “You have the most beautiful eyes.”

  “It’s a good thing, isn’t it? It’s about all I’ve got going for me now.”

  “No, that’s not true. You’ve got a lot going for you. You know what? I always feel better when I’m with you.”

  “I love being with you, too.”

  “I don’t even notice the pressure garment either. It’s like it’s not even there.”

  “I won’t have to wear it much longer. And then you’ll see how my face and neck were burned.”

  “What do those areas look like?” he asked.

  She turned away.

  “I’m sorry,” he said quickly. “I shouldn’t have even asked.”

  “No, it’s a fair question.”

  She bowed her head and closed her eyes, almost as if she were about to pray. And then she spoke softly. “The right side of my face has a different coloration than my left side. The fire completely took my right earlobe. They made one for me at the burn center. My neck has some scars and discoloration on it.”

  Tears started to slide down her cheek. “I’ve had reconstructive surgery on my right breast, but it still needs some more work. The skin on my stomach looks a little bit like a wrinkled shirt. I have patches of scars on my thighs and backside. Not from the fire but because they used those areas as donor sites for skin transplants.”

  Her head remained bowed, her eyes closed.

  “It’s okay,” he whispered.

  “I’m sorry. You probably didn’t want that much detail, did you?”

  “It was my fault. I had no right to ask a question like that.”

  “It’s okay. We’re friends. I trust you. Austin, I just want you to know . . . that . . . if I could, there’s nothing I’d rather do than be more beautiful . . . for you.”

  He stepped back.

  Her head was still down. He touched her chin with his finger and raised her gaze until she was looking into his eyes. “You’re magnificent just the way you are now.”

  “That’s very kind of you, but—”

  “You know what? I doubt there’s anybody who’s totally happy with their body. Some want to be taller, some want to be shorter, or weigh more, or weigh less. And even if somebody is perfect, it’s not going to last. We just take the body we were given and do the best we can with it. So, when you think about it that way, you’re not that much different from anyone else.”

  “You’re so good to me.”

  “Oh, no, I’m the lucky one. You know what? Before I left on my mission, I began to see you in a different light. All of a sudden, you weren’t just Jeremy’s little sister anymore. I remember thinking how good-looking you were. It was like I had never noticed before.”

  “I had some interesting feelings about you too,” she said, suppressing a smile.

  “But there’s no comparison to the way I see you now. You were plenty good-looking then, but now . . . do you have any idea what you are now?”

  “Not really.”

  “You are a woman of grace, dignity, and great beauty.”

  “That’s it,” she said, wiping her face with her hand as more tears welled up in her eyes. “From now on,” she said, smiling through her tears, “I’m not going anywhere with you without a box of tissues. Please tell me you have some in your pocket.”

  “No, but there are some in my car. But I call firsties.”

  “Not if I beat you there,” she said, racing him to the car.

  * * * * *

  Late that night, Emily sat alone, watching the demotape of her presenting the news. It was the video she had once made to send to TV stations—the video that was going to bring her fame and fortune.

  It was the first time she’d watched the video since the accident. I still love Emily–2, she thought. What smooth skin. Not a blemish, not a mark, not even a freckle. What a catch for some guy. I’d have made such a good wife. I remember the good old days when I could touch my face or my neck or my stomach without recoiling at the patchwork of skin from assorted places. I remember when I could touch my neck without counting the number of surgeries I’ve had on each section of skin.

  This isn’t right. I’m torturing myself, she thought, turning it off.

  She went to her room and closed the door and removed the part of the compression garment that covered her face and neck.

  This is what the world will see of me from now on, she thought. She grabbed a study light and set it on a dresser and shone it on her face, then studied herself in a mirror.

  She could hide much of the damage by wearing her hair longer. And, of course, only the man she married would see the damage to her stomach and chest. And there were still more operations scheduled to repair that.

  What’s going to happen next week when I don’t need to wear the pressure garment covering my face and neck? What will happen when Austin sees me the way I really am? What will the girls in my ward think? Will they shun me? Will they quit coming to Relief Society? Will the bishop have no choice but to release me?

  What will happen next week?

  I wish I knew.

  * * * * *

  The next Saturday, Emily stood in front of the mirror and got teary-eyed again as Jamie fussed over her, helping her get ready to go out with Austin. It would be the first time he would see her without the compression suit.

  It was three o’clock in the afternoon, and Austin wouldn’t be there for another four hours, but word had gotten out. Girls from her ward had been drifting in and out of the apartment since noon. They had come with dresses, jewelry, shoes, and some wigs for Emily to try on.

  They were all so willing to help, to give her whatever of theirs she might be able to use. They were her sisters from Relief Society, and they’d all come. And as they fussed over her, tears flooded her eyes because of their kindness and concern.

  They used every makeup trick they knew to help mask the discoloration on her face and neck. And when they at least partially succeeded, she cried.

  And they tried one wig after another on her, and she cried.

  And they put dress after dress in front of her so she could see the effect, and she cried.

  And they
told her she shouldn’t cry because it would show; but she couldn’t help it.

  When each one left, she gave them a hug. They knew enough to let her decide how tight the hug would be.

  At six-thirty, when most of them had gone, she was wearing a blonde wig furnished by one girl, a peach colored dress from another, a tiny necklace from yet another, and makeup applied ever so skillfully by still another girl.

  Just before seven o’clock, Austin showed up. She couldn’t face greeting him at the door, so she had one of her roommates answer his knock while she retreated to her room.

  “It’s going to be okay,” Megan said.

  “I hope so.”

  “It will be. You’ll see.”

  “Please go dim the lights.”

  “It’s too late for that. Besides, you look terrific.”

  She felt exposed, walking out to see Austin without the pressure garment.

  “Hi,” she said shyly.

  “Hi, yourself,” he replied.

  She stood there, not daring to look him in the eye, aware of his eyes looking at her, seeing the whole of her face and neck for the first time since before she was burned.

  He smiled. “You’ve done something different, haven’t you? Don’t tell me. I’ll get it.” He appeared to be studying her with even greater scrutiny. “I’ve got it now. You used to wear glasses, right? What’d you do, get contacts?”

  She gave a slight smile, and then suddenly the tension was gone.

  They danced for an hour and then they decided to rest. Austin went to get them some refreshments while she sat waiting at a table.

  When he returned, he sat down next to her. “Can I ask you a question?”

  “Sure, I guess so.”

  “If I wanted to kiss you tonight, how would that work?”

  “You’re thinking of kissing me?”

  “Not now, of course.”

  “Then why ask?”

  He laughed. “It’s something I learned from my mission . . . plan my work, then work my plan.”

  “Well, I guess it’d work pretty much the same as with any girl.”

  “What would be best for you, standing or sitting?”

  She thought about it for a moment. “I’d say standing.”

  “Could we go off a ways and talk it through?”

  “Whatever you’d like,” she said, standing up.

  “You’re blushing,” he said.

  “Am I?”

  “Yes, pretty much evenly on both sides. So it’s all working the way it’s supposed to.”

  “Red will be happy to find that out.”

  He took her hand, and they went off to a dimly lit corner of the ballroom.

  “Okay, let’s suppose I’ve just walked you to your door after the dance. Then I say something like, ‘Thank you for a wonderful evening.’”

  “Oh, thank you. I had a great time.”

  “Now what?” he asked.

  “Well, in a way, I guess it’s like dancing.”

  “Okay, so I put my hand around your waist like this.” He completed the move. “Okay, I’ve got my hand on your left side. Is this a good place for my hand to be?”

  “Just a little bit higher.”

  He moved his hand up. “How’s that?”

  “Good.”

  “All right. Now let me pull you in toward me, like this.” They were now looking into each other’s eyes. “Okay, how is that for you?”

  “I’m not feeling any pain,” she said.

  He chuckled. “Your roommates are going to ask if I kissed you tonight. And you’ll say yes, so they’ll go, ‘How was it?’ And you’ll say, ‘About the same as a bad toothache.’ Good grief, Emily, what a romantic you are.”

  She laughed. “Sorry.”

  “Okay, here we are, in position. And we’re looking into each other’s eyes.”

  “Yes, we are,” she whispered.

  Seconds passed.

  “I’ve always liked to look in your eyes,” he said softly.

  They stood there gazing at each other.

  “This is just a run-through, right?” she asked.

  He cleared his throat. “Yes, of course. Now I guess I would move in for the . . .”

  “Kill?” she said with a smile.

  “Kiss.”

  “Yes, that seems reasonable.”

  Their lips slowly began to converge. But then someone working the dance rolled a food cart filled with cookies past them.

  The magic was gone. “Not that it will necessarily ever happen, of course,” she said, moving away.

  “Of course not, but just in case it does.”

  She was watching the band as it started to play again when he softly touched the side of her face that had been burned. “Your face looks good, Emily.”

  “That’s very kind of you to say.”

  “I mean it.”

  “Austin, I will always be a burn survivor. That’s not going to go away. You know that, don’t you?”

  “Yeah, I do. But it’s fine. Really.”

  “I hoped it would be all right. Not so much for me as for you. I wanted it to be okay for you.”

  “It is. It’s fine. They did a wonderful job.”

  “You’re right. They did. I’ll forever be indebted to them.”

  “I don’t even notice anything wrong.”

  “You would though if you saw me in a better light.”

  “The light of your goodness is plenty bright.”

  She fought back her tears. “You’re not helping me with my makeup here, you know. I can’t believe how much I’ve cried today.”

  He started laughing. “You were dreading our date that much?”

  “It wasn’t because of you. The girls in my ward helped me so much today in getting ready for this. I love them so much, Austin. I really do.”

  They were holding each other, swaying back and forth slowly to the music. “Emily, I have a confession to make,” he whispered in her ear.

  “What?”

  “I wanted to see what your face and neck looked like before I decided what I wanted to do.”

  “That’s perfectly understandable.”

  “I’m not proud of it.”

  “Why’s that?” she asked.

  “It shouldn’t have made a difference.”

  “But you knew it would.”

  “Yeah, I guess I did.”

  “I understand.”

  “Thanks. In all the ways that count, you’re better than you were before the accident.”

  “I hope that’s true.”

  “You are the kindest person I’ve ever known in my life. I’ve seen the way you are with the girls in your ward, the way you talk to them, the love you show especially to those who need a friend. I wish I were more like that. Things like that don’t come easy to me, but they do with you. If I’m ever going to amount to anything in this life, I’ll need a good example, like you. I can see that now. Emily, will you marry me?”

  Her mouth dropped open. “What?”

  “I’m asking you to marry me.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’m in love with you.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.”

  They were standing close together, holding hands, their eyes closed, rocking back and forth to the music.

  She wet her lips. “So, are you going to kiss me now?”

  “You haven’t answered my question yet about us getting married.”

  “We need some time, but, if you want, we can consider the idea.”

  “Okay, we’ll do that. We’ll consider the idea.”

  They continued to rock in time to the music, which would have been fine, but Emily was ready for some action. “What does a person have to do around here to get kissed?” she asked.

  “I’ll get right on it.”

  “Good. You know what? Just before you left on your mission, I dreamed about you kissing me.”

  “What was it like?”

  “In my dream, when it happened, I r
emember thinking, ‘Wow! This is the kiss of the century.’”

  He smiled. “Really? It was that good? Looks like I’ve got a lot to live up to then, doesn’t it?”

  “We both do, actually.”

  And then they kissed for the first time.

  “Oh, baby,” she whispered in his ear, followed by a lusty chuckle.

  “Don’t start with me,” he said.

  “I’m not. It was a very sincere, ‘Oh, baby.’”

  He smiled. “Really? On our first kiss?”

  Actually though, it was their second kiss, if you count her kissing him just before he left on his mission.

  Or their third kiss, if you count her dream.

  But it was their first kiss after they both realized they were deeply in love.

  And that nothing else mattered.

  Ten Suggestions for Approaching Someone Who is Disabled

  by Don Croasmun

  1. Speak to the person who is disabled, not to his or her companion.

  2. Don’t shout or speak unnaturally slowly. Allow time for the person to respond. Don’t be uncomfortable and jump in, even if it takes a while.

  3. Be yourself—be a friend.

  4. Stand in front of a person in a wheelchair. While conversing, look the person in the eyes and listen.

  5. Take time to really talk and listen, not just exchange pleasantries.

  6. It’s okay to ask the person to repeat himself if you don’t understand. (That’s better than pretending to understand and faking it.)

  7. Do things together. Spending even a short amount of time together helps.

  8. Think: If I had an accident and were disabled tomorrow, I would be the same “me” inside and have the same needs.

  9. Recognize that the disabled person’s needs are greater than your fears. Face your fears.

  10. Even people in a coma are responding inside. Overt response is not a reflection of what that person may be thinking and feeling.

  In this book, Don is patterned after Don Croasmun, 458 Yale, Rexburg, ID 83440. Don’s e-mail address is doncrow@srv.net

  Reminders from the Intermountain Burn Center at the University of Utah

  1. Gasoline is dangerous. Remember, it is not safe to use it as a lighter fluid or a cleaning solvent. Misuse of gasoline commonly causes serious burns or death. Don’t be “fuelish.”

  2. Treat campfires with respect. Coals can remain hot for hours or even days. Children can easily “fall” victim to an unattended campfire.