Finding Emma

by K. Ryan

  Like a breath of fresh air, I was suddenly reminded of who I’d used to be, the cool confidence I’d once had, and the swagger I’d once carried in my walk. And now I remembered the effect I’d always known I had on women...I just hadn’t really cared too much about that effect lately.

  Seeing that subtle curve of her lips snapped some lost piece of myself right back into place and that simple reaction made me decide to try something I hadn’t done in awhile: I grinned at a beautiful woman and laid on the charm.

  Her lips curved up again and she bit down shyly on her bottom lip, quickly shifting her eyes back down to the concrete at her feet. As she shuffled towards our building’s main entrance, my feet practically tripped over themselves to match her stride. Running a hand through my tangled hair, I scrambled to round the side of my truck to beat her to the door.

  When her steps slowed, I echoed her gait and shoved my hands in my front pockets, letting a slow, lazy grin spread across my face. Her eyes brightened and as she got closer, I still couldn’t tell whether her eyes were green or blue, something I’d tried and failed to figure out last night. As her pace quickened back up, I sped up one last time, smirking at her over my shoulder as my hand shot out to pull the heavy glass door open before she could reach it.

  Swinging it open—God, what was I doing?—I waved an arm playfully out in front of me. “After you, neighbor.”

  Finally getting to see her up close was almost too much. The problem was my senses didn’t really know where to focus first: her apple-round cheeks, her light caramel-colored hair flipped up in that messy knot, the way she blew her bangs out of her eyes, which only made me focus on her lips. But in that split-second, everything else fell away and all I could zero in on was her aquamarine eyes. Not quite blue, but not exactly green either, they practically jumped out at me, just bright enough to make me wonder if this was all some sort of dream or if I’d jerk awake to find myself alone again.

  “Thanks,” she exhaled, her voice low and breathy, as if she was struggling to catch her breath. The huskiness there caught me off guard and it took me a moment to recover.

  “You have a good day?” I asked her, despite the fact that I sort of wanted to kick myself for acting like such an idiot.

  Here I was, flirting with my gorgeous, skittish neighbor. The game I’d had in college was rusty and dusting off the charm sitting on that proverbial shelf felt awkward and stiff...but she was still smiling up at me, so maybe I was actually doing something right.

  “Yeah,” Emma lifted a shoulder as she stepped through the threshold, still smiling when I fell in step next to her. “I did. You?”

  “It was alright.”

  My hands shoved deep into my front pockets. I was like Ricky Bobby—I just didn’t know what to do with my hands right now. And before I knew it, we’d covered the short distance from the entrance all the way to where our paths forked in the hallway. She’d head to the left and I would head to my door on the right. Now I was just trying to come up with something that might keep her out here a little bit longer with me, but I kept coming up empty.

  She had me tongue-tied, tripping over myself, and stammering like a horny teenager who’d never talked to a pretty girl before. I might as well have been that horny teenager, starting from scratch and fumbling through an attraction I never saw coming.

  I paused in front of my door, daring a glance her way to find her chewing on her bottom lip in thought.

  “So, um, maybe I’ll see you outside tonight?”

  My eyes widened at the suggestion, something I’d told myself not to waste time hoping for. Now, for lack of a better, more articulate response, one of my hands unearthed itself from deep inside my pocket to smooth some long strands away from my face.

  “Yeah,” I nodded finally and smiled right back when her lips curved up. “I think so.”

  “Good,” Emma told me as she turned to put her key in the lock. “I’m looking forward to it.”

  I felt just like the first time I saw her, when I had to cower behind my truck, scared stupid and stunned into silence, except this time, I had no safety net. No place to hide. Thankfully, she waved and then disappeared inside her apartment, leaving me standing alone in the hallway, grinning at the door across from me.

  . . .

  Times like these, I was really glad Slinger worked nights in the tap room. That way, he wasn’t around to see me haul ass onto our patio with my guitar in one hand and two beer bottles in the other. Sling didn’t need any ammunition. God, I could already see him, playing air guitar and banging his head to music only he could hear, singing, Go for it, go for it.

  Bringing two beers out with me was presumptuous, I knew, but she’d taken one from me last night and I wanted to be prepared in case the opportunity presented itself again.

  Jesus, forget the horny teenager act. I’m knocking down 40-Year-Old Virgin territory now.

  So, as I sat down on a chair on my patio, listening for the telltale sound of that screen door swooshing open and close, my mind went through a mental list of everything I’d brought outside with me. Guitar? Check. Beers? Check. Pathetic, wishful thinking? Check. Blatant disregard for my own well-being? Check.

  Looks like I got everything I need minus the girl.

  This was a bad idea, not to mention potentially setting myself up for something I wasn’t so sure I wanted. Yet here I was, sitting out on my patio, waiting for my neighbor to join me.

  I strummed a few lazy strains of “Fans”, flubbing some of the chords, which sucked because I’d played those same chords a thousand times before, and in my frustration over something that should be so simple, I missed the sound I’d been waiting to hear.

  “Hey,” Emma’s voice called out to me and a moment later, she hesitantly peeked around her side of the wall. “That sounded pretty good. Is that Kings of Leon again?”

  I laughed, grateful she’d either missed my epic screw-ups or chosen to just ignore them completely. “Trying to be, yeah.”

  “I liked it.”

  Now, as I rested both hands against my guitar, I found myself grinning right back at her. “Good. That’s what I like to hear.”

  It was crazy how just a few conversations, a few interactions, and I was shuffling, a little aimlessly, with my hands in my pockets, crossing my fingers, and hoping for the best. In spite of everything. In spite of the fact that I’d promised myself I’d never go down this road again.

  Here I go again...that sounded like a Whitesnake song. A pretty crappy one, too.

  She chewed anxiously on her bottom lip and then her head jerked down by her legs. “Hey, Oliver. Just hold on. Don’t go out on the grass, buddy.”

  Then she glanced back up at me, venturing a little further out onto the grass herself. “Sorry about that. He’s getting a little fidgety.”

  “Cats will do that. You can’t tell them to do anything they don’t wanna do.”

  “Yeah, I’m starting to figure that out.”

  “You’re finally admitting that he’s your cat?”

  Emma lifted a shoulder, this time rounding the corner of the wall until I could see her whole face. “It’s not official until Friday.”

  “Friday?”

  “Yep,” she nodded and then she was sawing nervously on that bottom lip again. “It’s kind of a long story. Do you want to...I don’t know…”

  I had my guitar in hand and was reaching for the two bottlenecks before she could even finish that suggestion.

  “I’d come over to your neck of the woods, but I think the cat would get all messed up with me being on the other side of the wall and I don’t wanna scare him off, so—”

  “No problem, Emma,” I shook my head, already heading her way.

  I pivoted around our shared wall to set my guitar and the bottles down, then grabbed a chair from my own patio to find Emma gingerly moving the cat’s chair closer to her own to make some space. At this point, I knew I should just be grateful for the invite. I wasn’t going to give her any shit for kee
ping a buffer between us, even if it was a cat. So, I settled in next to the cat and passed Emma the beer I’d brought for her.

  Pretty much the second I sat down, Emma launched into the story of how the cat, Oliver, came to live on her porch. Every part of it, her being nervous around him, reluctantly deciding to feed him, to him jumping right up on her lap...I could practically picture it all happening exactly the way she described it. I barely knew this girl, but there was something about her—maybe it was the quiet strength underneath that blanket of hesitancy she seemed to use as a shield—but whatever it was, I found myself listening to her with rapt attention, hanging on every word, and wanting to know more about my neighbor, who was so taken by a stray cat that just the thought of leaving him at the humane society made her tear up.

  “So Friday’s the big day then,” I surmised.

  “Yep,” her eyes fell down to the cat and the soft look in her eye was one I knew well. “If he’s still hanging around, that is.”

  “Oh, I’m sure he will be. If he had somewhere to be, I think he’d be there by now. You know,” I told her, gesturing to the tiger-striped little guy sitting next to me. “This dude looks just like one of the cats my sister had when we were growing up.”

  “One of the cats?”

  “Yeah,” I chuckled and took a quick pull from my beer bottle. “She was kind of a cat-hoarder...always bringing home strays and wanting to keep them. My parents gave in most of the time, but after we had five cats living with us, they started to put their foot down, you know?”

  She was still smiling at me, so I kept on talking.

  “They made her start bringing them to the humane society, so then she started volunteering at the humane society, which meant she always wanted to bring all of those cats home with her, too.”

  Emma laughed and shifted in her chair to face me. “Yeah, I guess I can relate. It sounds like you’re close to your sister.”

  I just shrugged. “I was, yeah. Now, I’m lucky if I even see her on the holidays.”

  “Oh,” her smile faded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t—”

  “Ah, it’s not a big deal,” I told her and now, it was more about getting that smile back on her face than anything. “It’s not like we live that far away from each other or anything. I guess we just kinda grew apart after my parents got divorced when I was in high school. She went to live with my mom and I stayed with my dad. That was kinda it, you know?”

  I had two nephews I hardly ever saw, but my sister and I had never really been the same once we’d had to take sides.

  “I’m sorry,” she murmured softly and probably because she didn’t know what else to do, reached out to scratch the top of the cat’s head.

  “What about you? Brothers? Sisters?”

  “Older brother,” she told me and frowned as her phone beeped underneath her chair. Sweeping it off the ground, she muttered something under her breath and then held her phone up to me. “Speak of the devil. You’d think I wasn’t a 26-year-old grown woman perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

  “He’s a little overprotective, huh?”

  Emma huffed out a laugh as her fingers flew over the keys to pound out a reply. “You don’t know the half of it.”

  “You’re living by yourself in a big city. He probably just wants to make sure you’re okay.”

  I was making a few assumptions here, but I wanted to keep her talking and I wanted to keep her willing to talk to me, too.

  “Something like that, yeah.”

  “Does he live here?”

  She shifted anxiously in her chair and I could tell we were edging towards some uncomfortable waters. At least, for the most part, I hoped I’d be able to read her well enough to know when to back off.

  “No,” Emma answered finally. “Him and his wife live back in my hometown. I know they’d like to see me more and honestly, I’m kinda surprised he’s not showing up here every weekend pounding down my door. I’m glad he’s not though, especially because that would mean he’d be dragging my eight-months pregnant sister-in-law along with him, too.”

  “Yeah, probably a good choice,” I grinned back. “So where are you from then?”

  It was a perfectly normal, average question to ask someone you were trying to get to know, but judging from the way that smile slipped right off her face, I knew I’d somehow crossed into more than just uncomfortable waters now.

  She shifted around on her chair again and, as if the cat could sense her obvious distress, he stood up on his haunches, stretched a little, set his two front paws on the armrest, and then launched himself into Emma’s lap. She caught him easily, yelping softly in surprise as he circled around her lap before finally settling in. Now, with her hands running up and down his fur, whatever had hitched her up before seemed more settled and less rocky.

  When Emma finally spoke again, her eyes landed squarely on me like she was summoning the strength she needed, and her voice was quiet, but firm, “I’m from Hickory.”

  I didn’t really see what was so monumental about that. Hickory was one of those blink-and-you-missed-it type of towns up north, the kind that was right next to a bunch of other equally tiny towns and when you passed from one to the next, you barely even noticed a difference. So, I figured the only real way to play this, since it was obviously out of the realm of what she was willing to tell me, was just to act like Hickory was any other town in Wisconsin. No big deal.

  “Oh sure,” I told her easily. “I’ve heard of that place.”

  It was right on the tip of my tongue to ask her for more, how long she’d been in the city, why she wasn’t in Hickory anymore, where her parents were, but I had a sinking feeling those kinds of questions would feel more like an interrogation to her. Since she’d almost clammed up completely on me with just one simple question about her hometown, now was probably the time to back off.

  With that last thought, I lifted my guitar up onto my lap and started strumming the first song my fingers remembered. After a few bars, her shoulders started swaying a little from side to side as she listened and I waited, curious to see if she could place it.

  Her eyes squinted a little in thought and she murmured, “Coldplay?”

  “Yep,” I nodded and continued plucking away. “You got the song?”

  “It sounds like ‘Yellow’.”

  “That’s the one.”

  Maybe it was a subconscious choice, too, considering the lyrics waxed poetic about how the stars shined for the girl Chris Martin wrote the song for, and maybe it mirrored a little of what I was feeling around this girl right now, even if I had no business trying to insert myself into her life.

  “You’re pretty good, you know,” she went on. “Do you play in a band or something?”

  I laughed and cast her a sideways glance. “Nah. I don’t think I’d do so well on a stage in front of a crowd. I just like to play.”

  Her lips curved up in that soft grin and I was starting to wonder if maybe that song had been written about her after all. “There’s something to be said about just doing something because you enjoy it.”

  “Yeah,” I grinned back at her. “There is.”

  It was also right about then that I realized I’d smiled more around this girl than I probably had the last year or so combined and I’d only known her for a few days. Now, she was taking another pull from the beer I’d given her and a swell of pride rushed through me.

  “I see you haven’t gotten sick of our beer yet,” I nodded my head to the bottle still in her hand.

  “No, it’s good. I normally go for wine, but I don’t mind this. So...you’re not the one who makes this though, right?”

  “Nope,” I took a pull from my own bottle just for good measure. “This one’s my uncle’s recipe. He typically oversees the lighter ales and my dad’s more about the darker lagers.”

  “I have no idea what you just said.”

  The words came tumbling out of my mouth before I could stop them. “Well, maybe you’ll have to swing by our
brewhouse one of these days and I could show you the ropes.”

  Her eyes widened at the suggestion and I mentally kicked myself right in the ass for overstepping—seriously, I didn’t know her and she didn’t know me and what little game I had left clearly wasn’t enough to carry me through that awkward, probably pretty damn creepy, outburst.

  “Or,” I scrambled to save face. “You could just forget I ever mentioned it.”

  My lame attempt at recovery sounded stupid even to my own ears and I cringed down at the bottle in my hand. The sad reality was that I just didn’t know how to do this anymore...talking to members of the opposite sex, flirting with a beautiful girl, figuring out how to turn on the charm. I wasn’t just rusty. I was out of practice. Exhausted. And getting too old for this shit.

  “Maybe I will. Swing by, I mean.”

  My eyes flew back to Emma and found her watching me with a hesitant smile playing on her lips. Maybe I wasn’t quite as pathetic as I thought I was. Jesus, maybe there was actually hope for me yet. It felt foreign, but yet, now I felt lighter, too. Optimistic and excited for the first time in a very, very long time.

  “Well, I’d be happy to show you around, show you how everything works.”

  She smiled again and I think my chest might have seized a little bit. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think that actually sounds fun.”

  “What?” I cocked an eyebrow at her and some of that charm I’d been groping for slid back into place. “You mean a brewery tour doesn’t sound like the best thing ever?”

  “I don’t know,” she laughed. “It wouldn’t necessarily be my first choice for a good time, but I’ll give it a try.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.”

  She shifted in her chair again, rearranging the cat on her lap, but this time, it wasn’t because she was uncomfortable. This time, it seemed like it was just because she wanted to keep talking to me. Because she’d given me an opening now, I decided to surge ahead.