by Davis, L. D.
“Luke, really!” she yelled. “Why are you bombarding me with all of this serious shit lately?”
“Because in order for us to move forward, we need to deal with that shit, Em,” I said, almost yelling myself. “You need to deal with what Kyle did to you and you need to deal with your feelings about yourself.”
“I am dealing with it!” She yelled.
“Hiding behind your kid and your job will only hold up for so long,” I said tauntingly
She rolled her eyes and stormed out of the room. I followed her, yelling.
“Great idea! Run away! That's a great way of dealing with your problems.”
I watched her burn a path in the rug as she paced anxiously back and forth. I tried to rein in some of my anger and frustration before speaking again.
“So, you've made some mistakes,” I said. “We have all made some mistakes.”
“Yeah, your mistake was, how did you put it? Oh yeah. You had this inflated idea of who I was and it's not my fault that I didn't live up to your expectations.”
She stood in the middle of the room, staring at the floor. Her chest rose and fell heavily. I couldn’t miss the injury on her face and in her voice. I wished I could take back all of the awful things I had said to her, even if she half deserved some of them. Had I known what I knew now, I wouldn’t have made things any worse for her.
“I was hurting pretty bad,” I said softly. “I wanted you to feel my pain. I apologize, I didn't really mean it. Had I known then how deeply damaged you really were, I would have behaved differently, and I should have anyway. I didn't treat you the way I should treat the mother of my child. I've really been trying to make it up to you and be a better man.”
She looked up at me, surprised by my words. She didn’t understand that I had been trying hard to win her over. I guess I wasn’t trying hard enough.
“Em, I know you're broken, okay?” I said, desperately trying to make her understand. “But I need to know what broke you so I can fix you.”
She stared at me with a dumbfounded expression. Clearly I hadn’t tried hard enough or she wouldn’t again look so stupefied that I’d want to fix her.
Her expression changed in a matter of seconds. She looked worried and sad.
“Why would you want to bother?” she asked in a small voice. “Is it making me a bad mom?”
“You're an excellent mother,” I said honestly. “I want to because I love you, and it kills me to see you like this.”
I watched her face after my confession. Utter confusion and shock.
“Oh.”
Oh? Oh? I told her I loved her and she said Oh.
The buzzer went off. I think we were both glad for the interruption. I went downstairs to get the food. On my way back up I decided not to continue the conversation. Honestly, my fucking feelings were a little hurt. I had waited a long time to tell her I loved her. Even more, I made it clear that I wasn’t going anywhere, that I wanted her and I wanted to fix her and she said Oh.
We were both dysfunctional people. For the rest of the day we avoided serious conversation even though we were sitting on a mountain of serious conversations. We both pretended as if our intense conversations had not happened. We watched television, ate food, joked around, talked about work, and acted as if we were both at ease when we each knew that the other was not. We even slept in the same bed, but I stayed to one side of the bed and she stayed to the other. We may as well have been sleeping in two separate universes.
I woke up early, before Emmy and before Lucas. I stood in the kitchen for a long time thinking over a cup of coffee with the radio playing softly in the background. I wasn’t ready to give up on Emmy, but I didn’t know if we were really getting anywhere. I needed to change my approach. Forcing her to talk about her pain was only leaving both of us frustrated and possibly a little more fractured than before.
By the time Lucas woke up, I had formed a plan. By the time Emmy got up, I was downright giddy about my plan. It was so simple that I felt stupid for not thinking of it sooner.
“Are you playing hooky again?” Emmy asked me.
“Impossible. I am co-owner of the firm. I can do whatever I want,” I insisted.
“Humble,” she smirked.
“I want to take Lucas to the zoo today and tonight you and I are having a date night.”
“Date night?” she asked doubtfully.
So simple. We didn’t need to have any uncomfortable conversations. We didn’t need to talk about how damaged we were. No confrontations or yelling or frustration. I was going to take her out, like I used to, just the two of us. A night on the town with some dinner, drinks, and whatever else the city had in store for us. Emmy had not had one of these nights in a very long time, probably since before Lucas was born. She needed this. I needed this. We needed this – together.
“Yep. I already asked Diane to babysit,” I said. “I know I'm not Brad Pit, but I think I make a pretty good date,” I said when she remained silent.
A small smile appeared on her face. “I guess.”
“Oh my god, Lucas! Did you see that?” I exclaimed.
“Smartass,” she muttered before walking away.
“And don’t think you’re cute ass is getting out of this,” I called after her.
“Stop cursing!” she shouted from the kitchen.
“You need to get out. You never do anything. You’re a hermit. You’re hermit lady. All you need are cats.”
“Okay, I get it,” she said from the kitchen doorway. She shook her head and rolled her eyes. “I’ll go.”
“No backing out,” I said firmly.
“No backing out,” she confirmed.
“Because I will pick you up and carry you out of here if I have to.”
“I’d like to see you try,” she snorted and went back into the kitchen.
*~~~*
When Emmy stepped out of the bedroom just before my cousin Diane arrived, Lucas and I both stopped what we were doing and stared.
“Ohhhhhh,” Lucas said, staring at his mom.
“Wow,” I said and was unable to close my mouth.
Emmy rolled her eyes, like she couldn’t believe that she was as hot as she looked. She had on a black tank top with thin straps that was snug at her breasts and loose and swingy at her hips. The blue jean capris she had on were skin tight and she had on a pair of fire engine red sandals with high heels and straps around her ankles. Her hair was loose and wavy and whatever makeup she had on made the green in her eyes look like shiny specks of glitter.
“Where are we going?” she asked soon after we left the building.
“Let's just see where our feet take us,” I said and took her hand.
“You mean you didn't plan anything?” she asked incredulously.
“Nope.”
“You suck a little at this dating thing.”
“Was that a joke?”
“Nope.”
We chatted about nothing of importance as we strolled through the city. Conversation came easily and Emmy smiled and laughed often. I should have been satisfied with that, but when she didn’t think I was looking, I saw the tension lines around her mouth and could sometimes glimpse something in her eyes that looked like anxiety.
“This is a hot date,” Emmy said a little while later in a Barnes and Noble.
“I know you think so,” I said nonchalantly. “The only thing missing are your sexy pink rubber gloves.”
“Maybe we should go buy some,” she suggested. “I mean if that's what rocks your boat.”
She was what rocked my boat. I had a visual in my mind of her answering the door at her house in Jersey, wearing a pair of short shorts with bleach stains, a holey t-shirt and those pink, rubber gloves. Catching her in such a casual state really had been a turn on. I was so glad that she had to go upstairs that day and change so I could get my erection under control.
“Only if you promise to wear the gloves and nothing else.”
She snickered and said “Yeah, becau
se my body is so rockin' after having a baby.”
“I think your body is even more rockin' than before you had a baby,” I said seriously and openly looked her over.
She looked at me with some doubt. “I haven't lost any weight since the day Lucas was born.”
“You're hot, I'm telling you,” I tried to assure her.
“You think so now,” she said. “You haven't seen the stretch marks on my belly.”
“I don't care about your stretch marks.” I’d kiss every line on her belly if she gave me the chance.
Emmy took a breath and changed gears.
“Are you flying to Jersey with me and Lucas for Labor Day?”
Though I had personally been invited, I wanted to know if Emmy wanted me there.
“Do you want me to?”
“Yeah,” she shrugged. “Sure.”
“Don't be so excited about it,” I frowned. It was like the Oh thing all over again.
“I don't get excited about anything these days. Don't take it personally.”
I was well aware that nothing seemed to excite her, but a little bit of enthusiasm would have been nice.
“I would love for you to come,” she said with a little more feeling.
“Right here in the book store?” I gave her a scandalous look. “I knew my bad ass girl was in there somewhere. I haven't done it in a public place since that one time in the bathroom at the diner.”
“Walking away now,” she said and left me alone with the two old women that appeared out of nowhere. I grinned and followed Emmy out of the store.
“Are you having a good time?” I asked her as we walked to dinner.
Her smile was genuine, but the tension was still there. It was like she was waiting for the bottom to drop out from under her.
“I am,” she said. “I haven’t had a real date night since…well since we were…together.” She cleared her throat in a lame attempt to cover her discomfort.
“We should make this a ritual. We should have a date night at least once a month.”
If she said Oh again I was going to pull a Lucas and sit down on the sidewalk and wait for someone to pick me up.
“You owe me a date on the boardwalk, buddy,” she said, poking my arm.
Dozens of needle like pains pierced my chest. The day Emmy and I broke up we were supposed to go to the boardwalk, ride some rides, play some mini golf, eat greasy, sugary, messy food and frolic on the beach like a happy couple. The Friday before our date, I was in the file room on my floor at Sterling Corp. The room had rows and rows of files. Sometimes if someone was working quietly at the back of the room, you didn’t even know they were there until they either spoke up or showed themselves. I was working at the very back, not caring if anyone knew I was in there or not.
“I don’t understand,” I heard Lynn, one of the clerks say as she entered the room. I didn’t know who she was talking to and didn’t care until I heard my name. “She’s fucking him right under Luke’s nose. He’s either extremely thick headed or he just doesn’t care.”
“It’s not possible that he doesn’t know,” I heard my own secretary Tracy say. “How can he not know? Everyone else knows. Carol saw Emmy and Mr. Sterling making out in a Walmart parking lot of all places and other people have seen them out together from time to time. And Harriet, you know Harriet – Huge Ass Harriet?”
“Oh, yeah. She works up there with them, right?”
“Yeah. Huge Ass Harriet said their relationship may as well be broadcasted on national television. They fight out in the open in front of the staff sometimes, and sometimes Emmy comes out of his office with that just-fucked look. Then she comes up here and smiles at my boss and putting her lips on him and pretending that everything is so perfect.”
“There’s no way he doesn’t know,” Lynn said. “She’s pretty and I heard she’s good at her job, but that can’t be why he stays with her. I don’t understand how he can stay with her knowing someone else is hitting it.”
“Maybe he’s in denial,” Tracy had said, hitting a little closer to the truth. “Maybe he really loves her and he’s just hoping for the best.”
“The best he’s gonna get is a broken heart,” Lynn said. “Ahh, here’s the file Vince needed. I told him it was here. I swear that this company needs to make people do a basic skills test before they’re hired.”
The door closed and I was left alone to deal with my denial.
I blinked out of the memory.
“I’ll take you wherever you want to go,” I said to Emmy nearly two years later.
A little while later we were sliding into a booth at the Hard Rock. We ate dinner at the Hard Rock in Atlantic City on our first date.
“Does this remind you of anything?” I asked her as I picked up my menu.
She hid her face behind her menu before speaking. “It reminds me of a lot of things.”
I wanted to ask her if she remembered practically tearing my clothes off that night on my couch. I wanted to know if she remembered writhing under me and screaming my name. I wanted to know if she remembered how it felt to be so deeply, physically connected that we became one fluid entity. I wanted to ask her if she loved me right away like I loved her right away. Did she know that I loved her the moment I saw her in her cleaning clothes and pink gloves?
The waitress appeared at our table before I could say anything to Emmy.
“Two Irish Car Bombs,” I said to her before Emmy could speak up.
“I was just going to get a cola,” she said slowly.
“A cola?” I asked incredulously. “A cola? Since when did you drink girly drinks like…cola?” I said the word with disdain.
“Since I got pregnant and subsequently had a child to breastfeed,” she argued.
“Your breasts…” I let my gaze settle on her chest for a moment. “Haven’t been food for Lucas for months.”
“Well, still…” she said, visibly uncomfortable with the conversation. “I’m a fulltime mom and part time miracle worker at Kessler, Keane & Associates. I’m also a fulltime…whatever it is I am to you. Housekeeper and Organizer Extraordinaire.”
“Emmy,” I said, looking at her with seriousness. “You are more to me than a housekeeper and organizer.”
She looked at me and I swear it looked like she was holding her breath.
“You’re also a cook, a time keeper, a fancy ironer and…” I laughed as she threw her menu at me.
Our drinks arrived and we gave the waitress our orders. I started on my drink while we chatted. Emmy often looked at hers but made no move to touch it. What the hell was she afraid of? It was beyond obvious she needed it. She was trying to act naturally, but I could see her pulse racing in her jugular and her hands twisted and untwisted her napkin so tightly that her knuckles were white.
“Drink up,” I finally said once I finished my own drink.
“This is going to hit me like a pile of rocks,” she said, staring at the drink.
“It will loosen you up a little.”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Are you calling me uptight?”
Uptight was an understatement, but I said nothing. We sat there staring each other down, wordlessly daring the other to look away first. I watched with alarm as I watched what could only be described as panic take over in her eyes. She looked like she was suffocating as she began to tear her napkin to shreds.
I reached across the table and stilled her hand by taking it into mine. “Hey. Are you okay?”
It was obvious that the action of taking her hand had only made things worse. I didn’t understand it. I was boggled. Did she secretly hate me? Or was it something else?
Suddenly she pulled her hand out of mine and picked up her drink. She stared down at it for a moment, as if she felt intimidated by it. After a deep breath, she put the glass to her lips and tilted her head back. I couldn’t stop the grin from forming on my face as she chugged the drink. The glass slammed down on the table as Emmy made a face – something I had never seen her do before
. With the alcohol still burning in her throat, she waved the waitress over and ordered two more drinks, plus shots of Hennessey.
I clapped my hands together, happy to see that my old Emmy showed up for dinner.
The drinks kept coming. Em seemed to have been making up for all of the drinking she didn’t do before. Her tongue loosened and the tension seemed to all but melt away from her body.
“Do you know what it’s like to wash the underwear of the guy you have a baby with but you’re not sleeping with?” she asked after another countless shot.
“No, I do not know what that is like,” I laughed. “I’m not that kind of guy.”
She giggled. “Right. That makes sense.”
“So, tell me what it’s like? You don’t like my underwear?” I teased.
“I love your underwear. I’m just always amazed that boxer briefs can contain that monster.” She realized what she said and clapped a hand over her mouth as she laughed with wide eyes.
The ‘monster’ twitched and challenged that assessment.
“You know you don’t have to wash my underwear,” I said to her after she stopped laughing.
“I know,” she said after taking a drink from her beer. “Can I tell you a secret?”
“I wish you would,” I muttered.
“I like taking care of you,” she said with a small smile. “It makes me feel useful and…I like the look on your face when you eat something I made. I like seeing you look very dapper in the dress shirts I ironed. I like the way you smell when you come out of the shower using the body wash I selected for you. I like tying your ties and laying out your clothes. I liked getting your firm in order and watching you work.” She was staring at her drink and biting on her bottom lip.
I stared at her in disbelief. She loved me. I heard it in her voice. I wasn’t assuming she loved me just because she took care of me. She took care of me because she loved me. She didn’t have to do any of it. She could have hired someone to come in and clean. She could have let my clothes pile up until I ran out of dirty underwear. She could have left me on my own for my meals and let me get to work late and look a damn mess. But she didn’t. She loved me.
