“My God, Emma, when was the last time you ate?” Jane asked worriedly.
“I’m not hungry,” Emma replied quietly.
“I made barbecued chicken and mashed potatoes,” Jane said, pushing the plate into Emma’s view. Emma caught a whiff of the food and felt nauseous.
“Just leave me alone,” she said, as she started closing the door.
Jane pushed on the door to prevent it from closing.
“You need to eat, Emma,” Jane asserted firmly.
“I just need water,” Emma panted softly.
“Here, let me leave this plate on your desk, even if you just pick at it, eat something, please Emma,” Jane begged, as she gently pushed opened the door. It forced Emma to walk backward as Jane entered the room. She stood clinging to the door, partially hidden behind it. If Jane would have seen her bare, boney legs, she would have spoon-fed her every bit of food on the plate. Her thighs looked half the size of Jane’s arms.
Emma said nothing as Jane set the plate down on her computer desk. She hoped Jane would hurry up and leave so that she could crawl back into bed, maybe literally.
“God, you look so tired. Have you been sleeping?” Jane asked anxiously. Little did she know that Emma spent most of her time sleeping. She lacked the strength and energy to do much else.
Emma nodded slowly, hoping to assure Jane enough to send her on her way. She even smiled a weak, thin smile for good measure. Anything to get rid of Jane, she thought. It hurt to think. It took too much effort. Emma just wanted to sleep. She needed to sleep.
The smile caught Jane completely off guard. Was it really a smile? Or a grimace? Maybe Emma was in pain. She never smiles at me anymore, Jane thought. It only made things more unsettling to her. She thought about what the officer had asked her about Emma at Sierra Gardens a couple of nights back. Maybe Emma really was on drugs. It would certainly explain a lot.
Jane shook her head in denial. There was no way; Emma was far too smart to get caught up doing drugs. She was just tired. She’d been through a lot in the past week or so—especially the past weekend. She just needed a good meal and a good night’s rest.
“Promise me you’ll eat,” Jane said nervously.
Emma nodded slowly, almost unable to keep her eyes open.
“Do you want me to feed you?” Jane asked, regretting her question instantly. A burst of rage invigorated Emma. She stood up taller, her eyes opened wide and there was a distinct angry expression on her face.
“No!” she called out louder than she had spoken all night. It was a big relief to Jane. She hated to see Emma so lethargic.
“Well go sit at your desk and start eating. I’ll bring you some water,” Jane said, retreating from Emma’s room. She made a quick detour to the bathroom where she threw up. Another few minutes and she would have had another mess to clean up. Her stomach ached unbelievably. The sight of Emma sickened her.
Jane washed her face, brushed her teeth quickly and walked downstairs to the kitchen. She filled a glass with water and walked back to Emma’s room. The door was ajar. Emma was seated at her computer desk. It looked as though some of the food from the plate was gone—presumably eaten. It relieved some of Jane’s anxiety. Emma didn’t look up as Jane entered. She stared at the plate, fork in hand. Jane reached over and placed the glass on the desk, to the right side of the plate. Emma picked up the glass and drank the water as if she had just returned from wandering the desert. The glass was just about empty when Emma placed it down.
“Guess you were thirsty,” Jane joked. “Do you want me to get you some more?”
Emma didn’t look up at Jane. She shook her head slowly.
“Are you—”
“I’m fine, you can go now,” Emma said softly, indignantly.
At least she didn’t yell, ‘get out of my room!’ Jane thought, as she walked back downstairs.
When Emma was sure that Jane was downstairs, she emptied the rest of the food on her plate into the small garbage can in her room, where the missing food from her plate had already made its way down to the bottom. Jane, that sucker, was so easy to fool. The food smelled good—really good—but Emma knew she couldn’t eat any of that fatty, Jane-producing food.
Jane didn’t have much of an appetite anymore. She put one of the pieces of chicken back on the tray and dumped about half of the potatoes back into the pot. She sat at the breakfast bar and picked at her food. It tasted good, but she just couldn’t stomach it. She packed the remainder (practically everything that she had on the plate) in a small plastic container and placed it into the refrigerator. It would be her lunch for tomorrow.
Jane put the leftovers away in other containers and stored them in the refrigerator as well. She knew she had cooked too much, but, with the exception of the past couple of weeks, she was used to eating enough for two, sometimes three.
Carrying her own glass of water, Jane walked up to her room, leaving the dinner dishes unwashed in the sink. She didn’t have the willpower to do them now. They could wait until the morning, even tomorrow evening if she was running late in the morning.
As Jane entered her room, she noticed the base of her phone flashing the number one, indicating that she had one new message.
With the glass of water still in her right hand, Jane pressed the ‘play’ button with her left index finger to hear the message.
The electronic voice stated, “Tuesday, 1:43 p.m.” followed by the sharp voice of a woman.
“Good morning, Mrs. Winston, my name is Jackie Lyons and I’m calling from the Attendance Office at John Henry High School. I’m calling because your daughter Emma has missed two days of school so far. We just wanted to make sure that you’re aware of it. We ask parents to call us whenever their child will be out sick or absent for other reasons, just so we can update our records. Since you haven’t called, Emma’s absences have been recorded as cuts. Please call us as soon as possible to discuss this matter. We hope to see Emma in school tomorrow. Thank you.”
“Oh you’ll see her in school tomorrow,” Jane said under her breath, furiously. Here she thought she could trust Emma to do the right thing, putting faith in her that she had been getting rides to school with other parents when all this time she was God knows where doing God knows what. She placed the glass of water down roughly, spilling some of it over the sides. She didn’t care about the mess at the moment. She walked out of her bedroom and straight into Emma’s. The door had been pushed, but not closed.
Emma was in bed, under the covers. She did not stir at all. Jane opened her mouth to yell, but said nothing. Emma needed the rest, she had looked awful earlier and it was so late now. Funny, after seeing how sickly pale and fragile Emma looked, she had considered letting her stay home from school tomorrow. Not anymore. She was going to school no matter what excuse she tried make.
Jane picked up the empty plate from Emma’s desk and turned to go. She was so angry, it would have been the perfect time to reprimand Emma. She hoped that she would still have the courage to face Emma in the morning once the demon in her was well-rested and eager to put up a fight.
Jane hoped it wouldn’t be too bad a confrontation. More than
anything she wanted to wake Emma and give her a piece of her mind. But Emma was asleep so peacefully on her bed, on her side, curled slightly in a fetal position. Jane watched her for a full minute, mourning the loss of the sweet daughter she once knew. Already, Jane could feel her anger dissipating, her resolve fading. She knew her opportunity to face Emma courageously had passed.
Yet she also knew that Emma had to return to school. She could not allow her to cut any longer. Thinking about the stories Colleen had told her about her own childhood made Jane shudder. The last thing she wanted was for Emma to end up like that. She would find the strength again and discipline Emma. Her future depended upon it.
Her resolve may have diminished, her opportunity gone for now, but she knew that she could deal with Emma in the morning…and she fully intended to.
~17~
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It was another sleepless night for Jane. She tossed and turned, troubled by thoughts of Emma treading down the paths that had nearly ruined Colleen’s life. She had imagined the worst and now the worst seemed plausible. It frightened her more than anything in the world.
It was 6:15 a.m. She pressed the snooze button on her alarm clock. She was exhausted. Her head throbbed, her body ached, and her stomach felt raw. She did not want to get out of bed. If there was ever a day to call in sick, this was it. Yet, in addition to her fear of reprisal from her boss, Jane knew she had to set a good example for Emma. How would it look if she forced Emma to go to school only to miss a day of work herself?
Grudgingly, she sat up, yawned and stretched. She moaned softly from the aches and pains as she got out of bed and prepared to take a shower. She planned to wake Emma by six forty, and have breakfast ready by seven. The two of them would leave by seven thirty. She would insist on driving Emma to school. That was the plan anyway.
The shower, which usually helped, did nothing to alleviate Jane’s physical or emotional woes. She towel-dried her hair, dressed quickly and entered Emma’s room. She flicked on the light and stood by the doorway, just outside of Emma’s room. Emma buried her head down into her pillow, disturbed by the brightness.
“Get up, Emma,” Jane said sternly.
Emma shifted her weight to the other side of the bed, pulling the covers over her head. Without uttering a word, her statement was clear: “Leave me alone, I’m not going to school!”
Jane welcomed back her resolve, in full force. She approached Emma’s bed and yanked the blanket off of her, twisting Emma’s body to face her in the process. Emma’s eyes opened. She looked puzzled. Maybe she thought she was still dreaming.
“Get up, Emma, now!” Jane yelled in a resonant voice that took her by surprise. Emma looked even more shocked. She squinted at
Jane, focusing in on her to confirm that it was in fact Jane who stood here before her, commanding her to get out of bed. She could see Jane standing over her with both hands on her hips and the most vexed expression on her face that Emma had ever seen upon her mother’s face.
Emma propped herself up on her elbow. She felt a lot better after a full night’s sleep, though her head hurt just as badly.
“I’m sick,” she said, staring straight into Jane’s eyes defiantly.
“Like hell you are,” Jane said.
Emma was shocked, as evidenced by the expression on her face. It was a satisfying feeling for Jane—she had the upper hand, so far, at least.
“I can’t go to school,” Emma yelled anxiously. There was no way she was going to face the kids at school. She was never going back there again.
“You’ve missed two days, you’re not going to miss a single day more,” Jane said adamantly.
“I’m not going,” Emma said, standing her ground.
“Well you’re confused, I’m not asking if you’re going, I’m telling you that you’re going.” Jane would not back down.
Emma did not appreciate the challenge. She rapidly grew infuriated. She rolled her eyes and exhaled heavily in an exaggerated way as if to indicate that Jane was wasting her time arguing with her.
“You’re going to school, Emma,” Jane repeated loudly.
“Just get out of my room,” Emma barked.
“You’d better get out of bed and get dressed,” Jane warned, “or I’ll call the cops to come and take you to school.”
“Yeah right,” Emma scowled.
“Cutting school is called truancy, it’s against the law. I hope you liked the cops that lectured you at Sierra Gardens cause they’ll be here soon unless you get dressed and ready to go,” Jane threatened.
“You’re a liar, you wouldn’t call the cops.”
“Watch and see,” Jane said. “The tall one gave me his number and told me to call him if you gave me any more problems.” Jane figured a little fib wouldn’t hurt and might just convince Emma that she meant business.
Emma began to panic. Tears welled up in her eyes. She didn’t have the strength for this battle.
“I can’t go back to that school, everyone hates me,” she cried anxiously.
Seeing Emma crying always tore at Jane’s heartstrings, but she knew she had to be firm. Emma had to go to school.
“No one hates you, honey,” Jane said softly.
“You screwed everything up, you ruined my party, now I don’t have any friends and I can’t go to school....it’d be too embarrassing.”
“Think of how embarrassing it’d be to be escorted to school by cops,” Jane remarked, relieved that Emma was making it easier for her to do her job.
Emma wanted to call Jane’s bluff. Jane wouldn’t dare call the cops...or would she? Did the cop really give her his number? But it would be dreadful in school....
“I’m not going!” Emma shouted, deciding to put up a fight. Let’s see if she calls the cops.
“Fine, I’ll call Arty, he and his partner will be here soon. You should get dressed unless you want to go to school in your pajamas, they’re not going to wait for you to change,” Jane said confidently, hoping that Emma didn’t notice the cop’s name from the tag on his uniform. She had made ‘Arty’ up.
Emma was surprised that Jane and the cop were on a first-name basis. She visualized being dragged to school in her pajamas. It made her shudder. She would just die!
“FINE!” Emma yelled as loud as she could as she lunged forward and slammed the door shut in Jane’s face. Jane took a few steps back to make sure that she was clear of the slamming door. She felt giddy, thrilled that she had stayed strong and forced Emma to get ready for school. She felt a little guilty for being devious, but it was a necessary evil under the circumstances.
“Be ready for breakfast in twenty minutes,” Jane yelled through the door.
“I’m not hungry,” Emma yelled back angrily.
Jane always thought breakfast was the most important meal of the day and hated Emma to go to school without eating, but she had eaten very late last night and had cleaned her plate completely, to Jane’s surprise.
She’s probably still full from her big dinner, Jane thought. She would let the breakfast battle slide. She’d already had one victory for the day—her first, ever, in fact—and she didn’t want
to push it.
Jane boiled two eggs and toasted two slices of wheat bread. It was a quick, bland breakfast but it was something to coat her stomach, or ‘put out the fire,’ as Jane thought of it. Not that it helped much; the burning sensation had become a steady irritation. As Jane dipped the last few bites of toast into the runny yolks of egg, Emma was in full panic mode up in her room.
Emma had a pile of clothing on her bed, clothes that she had tried on, taken off and discarded onto her bed. Nothing fit her properly. Her jeans were all baggy. She settled on a pair of stretch jeans that she never wore before because they had always been uncomfortably tight. Now even those were loose-fitting, but not nearly as bad as her other jeans. Her shirts and sweaters were equally as loose and unappealing to Emma. At last she decided on a green mock turtleneck shirt. It looked a size too big, but not as bad as some of her other tops.
Emma stared at herself in her full-length mirror. She was repulsed by what she saw. The Emma that stared back at her was a chubby ogre. All that was missing was the green skin. She could have been one of Shrek’s relatives.
Suddenly, her stomach cramped up and she doubled over in pain. Flu relapse, she thought, as she was overcome with waves of nausea. She bolted to the bathroom and kneeled down before the toilet. She heaved up a sour-tasting clear liquid. She threw up until there was nothing left in her stomach to expel. She washed up and brushed her teeth. Her eyes were red and watery as though she had been crying or had bad allergies. She brushed her hair and put it up in a loose pony tail. Wisps of hair flew from the brush, leaving a mess of reddish hair on the sink. Emma examined a few of the long, thin strands. She remembered cleaning off her brush just before leaving for her d
isastrous party. Did all this hair just fall off her head?
Great, Emma thought to herself, I’m fat and balding. How could she face her friends...ex-friends, she corrected herself.
Emma walked downstairs slowly, with a sick, nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. She approached Jane who had just eaten the last bite of egg from her plate.
“I just threw up, my stomach hurts,” Emma said flatly.
“I don’t want to hear it, you’re going to school,” Jane replied firmly as she looked over at the time displayed on the microwave. It
was already 7:25. Emma was going to make them both late with her antics.
“I’m not kidding, go look in the toilet, I didn’t flush it,” Emma pleaded, desperately.
“Get your backpack, we have to leave now,” Jane said, disregarding Emma’s plea.
“I’m sick!” Emma yelled, her eyes welling up with tears.
Stay strong Jane, Jane thought, we’re almost out the door.
“You’re going to school, Emma, and that’s final,” Jane said in a serious tone and Emma knew that no amount of whining or arguing would help. Jane would only call the cops and there was no way she could face everyone at school if she were escorted to class in handcuffs. It was only this profound fear that kept Emma from cursing at Jane and returning to her bed.
With a wounded pride and broken spirit, Emma walked upstairs to her bedroom. She picked up her backpack from the floor and flung it over her right shoulder. She was about to leave but paused a second and back-tracked into her room. She walked over to her computer desk. She opened the drawer on the left side and pulled out a small bottle of pills. She took two pills out and slipped them into her pocket. She closed the bottle and left it on her desk.
She then walked downstairs to the foyer, opened a closet and pulled out her jacket. She put it on tempestuously. She couldn’t wait for this nightmare to be over. Now she wouldn’t be able to call her dad until after she came home from school. Jane ruins everything, she screamed in her mind, hating Jane all the more for forcing her to go to school. She couldn’t wait to leave her and move in with her father.
MOTHER: A Novel Page 19
