Razorblade Kisses

by R. L. Griffin

  The server came back and put their dessert and Emery’s beer on the table.

  “Emery,” Rachel leaned in, “the sex is amazing. I mean, like not want to get out of bed for days amazing. I know I’m not that old and I haven’t had that many boyfriends, but he knows how to do everything to make me scream.”

  “I’m so happy for you. You knew what you wanted and you got it. The wait was worth it, right?”

  Rachel smiled. “Ugh, the years…”

  “Rachel, he makes you extremely happy. He’s a good guy even though he’s not in a good business.”

  “Yeah, he makes me happy.”

  “There’s a little bit of good and bad in everyone,” Emery commented.

  “Yes, I suppose there is, Em. People are so complex. There’s not a person out there who is just good or just bad, we all have layers and scars and graveyards.”

  “The difference is most people can cover their scars.” Emery sighed and leaned back in her chair with her beer. “I can’t. I’ll never be able to hide my scars, literally and figuratively.”

  Rachel ran her hand around the left sleeve of Emery’s sweater. “You know you can laser those off if you want.”

  She shook her head. “I don’t want to forget.”

  “I’m pretty sure you won’t forget,” Rachel whispered.

  “No, I don’t want to forget that I can’t ever not have scars and that they keep me from being normal. I forgot in Nashville. Noah made me forget for just a little while and now my scars are even deeper, my graveyard even more full than when I left Atlanta.”

  “Em…” Sadness crept into Rachel’s eyes.

  “No, Rachel, don’t do that. Don’t pity me. I don’t want your pity. I’m serious. I want these to remind me that you and Derrick are it for me. You’re my friends, my family, my only life line.”

  “I love you, Em.”

  Emery could tell she tried to not look at her with pity, but Rachel was completely unable to hide her emotions, ever. It was one of the things Emery loved about her.

  “I love you too, saver of my life.”

  “You’re the saver of your own life.”

  “I wish that were true, Rach, if it were up to me, I’d drive right back to Nashville right now and throw myself at the mercy of your cousin.”

  “Em!” Rachel gasped. “You can’t.”

  “I know.” Emery took a sip a beer. “And I won’t. It would only hurt him and you. I would never hurt you. You know that, don’t you?”

  Rachel nodded. “This conversation sucks for day drinking. Let’s talk about Britney Spears or something.”

  “What’re you, nine? Who listens to Britney Spears?”

  “What?!” Rachel asked with horror. “I love Britney! You better not talk shit about Britney.”

  “You cannot be saved.”

  The rest of the afternoon flew by just like it always did when Rachel came to see her. The next morning they had brunch at Huey’s on the River before Rachel had to leave.

  “I’ll have the beignets and she’ll have the French toast and two Bloody Marys and coffee,” Rachel rattled off to the server.

  When the server left the table, Rachel put a box on the table. “You know, I love every single part of you, but this moping shit is just getting annoying. You need to find a friend or get a dog or something…”

  Emery smiled sadly at Rachel’s honest comments. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”

  “I know and it’s nothing big, but I want you to wear it every day until you don’t need it anymore.”

  Puzzled, Emery looked at Rachel curiously.

  Rachel grabbed Emery’s hand, which was on the box. “I’m serious, Emery, wear it every day. Promise?”

  “I promise, weirdo. I hope it’s not underwear,” Emery said, attempting to lighten the mood. Then she popped open the box and took out a brown leather cuff with an engraved gold plate. It read, “You are braver than you seem and stronger than you think.”

  She shook her head at the statement on her bracelet. Rachel reached over and secured it on Emery’s left wrist.

  My left arm.

  “Every day,” Rachel reiterated.

  Rachel left right after brunch, since she was going to stop by Derrick’s on her way back to her own house. Emery pulled out a book that Rachel had told her she’d love and dove in, losing herself in the characters of a world where kids tested into factions.

  The shrill ring of her phone let her know it was an unknown number. Fear prickled in her psyche. No one but Rachel called her.

  Her stomach twisted. She didn’t recognize the number, but it was a 912 area code, which was Savannah.

  “Hello?”

  “Ms. Simpson, this is Steve from DFCS. We’re going to need you to come in tomorrow, if that’s okay. We’ve had an unexpected exit of one of our employees. You’ll be adopting her caseload and we’ve already designated others for you as well.”

  Emery was nodding, but not yet speaking.

  “Ms. Simpson?”

  “Oh, sorry. Sure. I’ll be in first thing in the morning.”

  “Thank you. We’ll meet at eight in the morning and I’ll get you everything you need. I believe you may have two appointments tomorrow already to either attend or attempt to reschedule.”

  “Okay.” Emery was baffled. She guessed there was no easing into the water, she’d just have to jump in with both feet and see if she could swim.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

  Iron Man

  Files covered her desk. After a little over three months at DFCS, she had over a hundred kids on her caseload that needed her help. Overwhelmed was a gross understatement for what she felt. Even if she worked 24 hours a day, she wouldn’t be able to do everything she wanted to do for these kids. It was daunting, but she felt this was the job she was meant to do. She wanted to do whatever she could to help kids. The phone on her desk buzzed.

  “Hey, Steve,” she answered.

  “We sort of have an emergency situation at one of the schools and you’re up.”

  She sighed. There was always an emergency and it was only the first week of school. “Okay, I’ll be right there.” She jogged to his office to get all the details, which were sorely lacking. She’d given up wearing heels and cute clothes after the first day. She’d had to carry boxes of documents to Court, where she had to address the Judge on cases that she had no idea about. Then she had to lug the box of documents back out to her car, then hurry to five different schools for different meetings for kids under DFCS care who were being served under IDEA, the Individuals with Disabilities Education Act. When she’d finally gotten home, her feet felt completely broken.

  At the meetings, she’d felt totally out of the loop. It was like educators had their own language. She kept interrupting to ask questions because she wanted to make sure she was doing what she needed to do for her kids. Since the first meeting, she’d spent every night researching IDEA and services that go under the law. It was so much to learn, she often felt lost. She wished she would’ve taken some sort of course on it in college.

  As she drove to the elementary school in one of the poorer areas of Savannah, her mind wandered to Ashley, hoping as she always did that everything was okay. She pulled out her phone and tapped on the Voxer app that allowed her to talk to Rachel like they had walkie-talkies.

  “Any information on Ashley?”

  “No, nothing since last week. I’ll swing by this week and check in. You good?”

  “Sure,” Emery answered noncommittally.

  “Em…” Rachel’s voice was full of concern.

  “It is what it is, Rach.”

  “Ashley did break up with that punk Hudson. I never liked that kid,” Rachel said, trying to lighten the mood. “I’ll come this weekend and we can talk it out.”

  “No, don’t. I’m all talked out.”

  “Well, who have you been talking to? Because it hasn’t been me.”

  “I talk to the monsters beneath my bed,” she replied sn
arkily, mocking the song they’d talked about months ago.

  “Well, when do you want me to come down?”

  “I don’t know. I have to go, I got a new kid and it’s an emergency. We’ll talk later.”

  “I love you, Em.”

  “You too,” Emery answered, then threw her phone in her bag and took a cleansing breath before she climbed out of her car and began walking into the school. Every time she did this walk for a new kid, a glimmer of anticipation niggled at the back of her brain. Maybe this was one she could help. Maybe this was the one that would let her touch their heart and their mind. Maybe this was the one she could help. She just wanted to help in a way she wished someone would’ve helped her.

  Emery walked directly into the front office and before she could tell the receptionist who she was, a female cop waved her over to a small conference room.

  “In here,” the cop barked.

  Emery looked in the small window and saw a young boy who was maybe nine with shaggy brown hair throwing everything he could get his hands on. He was wearing a superhero t-shirt that was two sizes too big and jeans about the same. “What’s going on?”

  “Well, the teacher noticed significant bruising on both of his arms and brought him up here to see the Assistant Principal. I was called in to document the bruising and DFCS was notified per protocol.”

  “Why is he tearing everything up, though?” Emery asked.

  “Well, I think he’s deaf,” she replied. “I don’t think he understands what’s going on.”

  “Oh, he’s deaf?” Emery commented. “I know sign language.”

  “Great. When we were talking to DFCS over the phone the kid just went nuts and started tearing the Assistant Principal’s office apart. They got their behavioral specialist here in a few minutes and put him in this conference room. She’s trying to de-escalate him now.”

  “I don’t think it’s working,” Emery deadpanned.

  “I’m pretty sure it’s not.”

  Emery opened the door and walked into the conference room, without a care for the fact this kid was throwing staplers and anything he could find. She signed, “Hi, I’m Emma.”

  The boy stopped mid-throw and stared at her.

  “Are you okay?” she asked with her hands.

  He stood stock still and turned his head and gazed out the window.

  “I’m here to help you,” she signed and spoke because he wasn’t looking at her.

  He shook his head.

  Okay…not deaf.

  “Lucas, can you sit down and just talk to me for a few minutes and let everyone else get back to their jobs?” she asked out loud without signing.

  He huffed, but moved to the chair, not saying a word.

  The woman that had been in the room nodded at her. “Lucas, I’ll just be outside. Would you like something to drink?”

  He nodded once.

  Emery smiled at him and sat down next to him. “What would you like to drink?”

  She laughed at his signed response. “I can’t get you a Sprite. How about water?”

  He shook his head.

  “Okay, so let’s talk,” she said, not signing since she knew he could hear and understand her. Maybe he couldn’t talk or wasn’t ready to talk yet. She could work with that.

  He signed and asked her how old she was.

  “Twenty-two.” The lie rolled off her tongue. “How about you?”

  He signed that he was ten.

  “I like your shirt,” Em said, pointing to his Flash t-shirt.

  His smile broadened.

  “Do you like superheroes?”

  He nodded.

  “Me too.”

  The conversation paused while she thought about what to say next. Then he started signing. He told her that the fact someone would save a perfect stranger for no reason at all made him happy. Then he looked away from her and out the window, as if he’d said too much.

  “So who’s your favorite?”

  He took a minute and then signed. His signs came so quickly she had a hard time keeping up. He said that most superheroes came from horrific—that’s the word he used—circumstances. Superman’s parents were dead, Batman’s parents were dead, Hawkeye was abandoned by his parents, Thor’s father banned him from the planet, and Spider-Man was raised by his aunt and uncle. And they all became great. He liked the stories behind the superheroes, all of them, because they came from things that could have broken them, but they made themselves indestructible.

  Her heart seized at his answer to her question. “I like Wonder Woman,” she replied. There aren’t that many female superheroes, though.”

  He signed enthusiastically. His real favorite was Ironman, because he had everything in the world and decided to help people.

  Holy fucking kid putting you in your place.

  His hands started flying around.

  “Slow down…” She laughed and then began nodding at his signs.

  Apparently there are plenty of woman superheroes—Storm, Black Widow, Black Canary…she lost count.

  “Okay, well, you’ll have to tell me all their stories so I can pick.”

  He agreed with a smile and a nod.

  When she left the school that day after talking to Lucas she felt she’d done something. She’d helped him, maybe made his life better, even it if was only for an hour. He’d acted like he was starved for someone to just communicate with him. Her heart hurt for him.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  Solitary Confinement

  Emery was drinking wine and going through Lucas’s file when her phone rang. Tearing her eyes off the words lifting off the page and seeping into her heart, she saw her favorite face on her phone’s screen.

  “Hey, Rach,” she answered.

  “Emery…” Rachel covered the phone and Emery heard muffled words and pauses.

  “Rach? What’s going on?”

  “Okay, sorry about that. I was trying to make sure I was…” Rachel’s voice died on the line.

  Emery’s anxiety spiked. Ashley.

  “Shit,” Rachel murmured. “I spilled fucking Coke all over my shirt and had to take it off to wash it in the sink and people keep coming in the bathroom.”

  “Is Ashley okay?”

  “Yes, she’s fine. She won state in gymnastics last weekend. That’s what I was calling to tell you.”

  “She did?” Pride filled Emery’s heart and then the loss of not being able to be there and congratulate her consumed all good emotions.

  “From what I hear, she knocked it out of the park. Like she rocked the judge’s balls off.”

  Emery laughed in spite of herself.

  “Any way you could try to get a video somehow? I mean…”

  “I can try, Em. I’ll try.”

  Emery nodded. This was what she’d given up to save herself, to be able to make the marks on her paper now, the ones that showed she was okay. Supposed to be okay. It made her wonder if she was really okay at all, if all of this loss was worth it. She missed Ashley, but the pain that had been in every cell when she lived in Atlanta had waned, making walking through this life every day somewhat manageable.

  “Okay, please try. I miss her.”

  “I know. Fuck.”

  “What?”

  “Well, Em…Emma. I’m a little naked right now and need to go.” The phone clattered to the floor. “Shit, now I have shit on my fucking phone.”

  “Nasty.” Emery laughed, picturing a half-naked Rachel cursing and trying to figure out how to sanitize her iPhone.

  “By the way, I’m coming this weekend. What do you want to do?”

  “Hmm, I’m not sure. I’ll figure something out.”

  “Must go.”

  “Go.”

  Emery smiled at the phone as Rachel’s face disappeared from the screen. Taking another sip of her wine, she turned the page to the most current psychological evaluation of Lucas. His childhood was scattered around south Georgia. His mother had custody of him. His father wasn’t even mentioned.
He wasn’t diagnosed with autism until two years ago, when he was in second grade. Prior to that, schools had attempted to get his mother’s consent to evaluate him for special education services and the mother had always refused.

  Lucas had developmental delays across the board, but his test scores were contradictory. On some assessments, he didn’t even meet the threshold of intelligence, but his scores were through the roof on others. He’d passed a hearing screening, though Lucas had always been non-verbal. There was a note in the file that he’d taught himself sign language and would attempt to communicate that way.

  “Why the fuck did the school think this kid was deaf then?” Emery shook her head. She’d learned quickly that kids fall through the cracks, sometimes at the fault of no one. There just wasn’t an advocate for the kid to make sure he was getting what he needed.

  “This kid’s mother seems to be an asshole,” she said to no one in particular.

  She made notes through the entire file in order to be prepared for the fight to get this kid what he was entitled to and what he needed to be able to learn.

  On a Friday night a few weeks later, Emery was bored and burned out on work, so she decided to walk over to Mansion and eat dinner. This was a big deal for her; she hadn’t been out without Rachel since she’d moved to Savannah. Standing in her closet, she scanned through the clothes she’d brought with her and the few she’d purchased. Emery pulled a black and white polka dot dress off the rack. She paired it with her leather jacket and black boots, straightened her now dirty blond hair that fell down her back in sheets, and put makeup on. She was Emma Simpson. Gorgeous and ready to go out on the town.

  Emery walked the few blocks to Mansion. When she walked in the restaurant, it was full and the bar area was packed as well, but she sidled up to the bar and ordered a vodka tonic. Then she leaned in so the bartender could hear her. “Can I eat at the bar?”

  “Sure, honey,” the bartender said with a pronounced drawl that she thought must be for the tourists.

  She smiled as he placed her glass, silverware, and a menu over a white cloth napkin at the end of the bar. Carefully, she managed to maneuver around all the bodies that blocked her way and perched on the edge of the high chair. She was in awe as she took in her surroundings. It was a beautiful historic brick building built in the 1800s. It sat overlooking Forsyth Park and made her wonder if the building had been someone’s home prior to becoming a hotel.