E, My Name Is Emily

by Norma Fox Mazer

  “Hey!” I yelled. It was like yelling into a vacuum. They were glued together. I felt like stamping my foot. Having a temper tantrum. What did Bunny think she was doing? We were here to demonstrate to Robertson what it felt like to be mauled, to be pushed and pulled like someone’s toy. We weren’t here to give him a big thrill. Or us, either!

  I walked away, feeling like the kid who’d gone to a party and had the door closed in her face. “You two are disgusting,” I yelled. I waited. No answer. Didn’t they hear me? I went back to tell them to their faces. And there they were, my two friends. Bunny and Robertson. My best girlfriend in the world. My other friend, my devoted friend who was a boy, who wanted to be my boyfriend. So he’d said at least twenty-five times.

  I sat down under a tree and looked at them.

  They were still kissing.

  Chapter 21

  Right after the long Thanksgiving weekend, Dad called one night and told me he had a job interview coming up in New York City. “You’re changing jobs?” I said.

  “We’ll see. I’m exploring possibilities.” Then he casually asked if I wanted to fly down to the city for the weekend and spend some time with him. “We’ll take in a couple of shows, do the big city. What do you think. Would you like that?”

  Would I like that? No. I’d love that! I’d adore it! I’d kill to do it. I hadn’t seen my father in nearly two years, and I really didn’t quite take in what he was saying. “Is Rachel coming?” I asked. What I was thinking was that Marcia would be with him.

  “No, I’m going alone, sweetheart. Just me. Why don’t you put your mom on, and let me talk to her about it.”

  Just like that, he said it. So casually. Put your mom on. But, usually, they didn’t talk much at all when he called. It was hello, good-bye, or nothing at all. I sort of caught my breath. A thought came to me. He’s breaking up with Marcia.… That’s why he’s looking for another job … in a different city. He’s going to come back to us … this is the first step.…

  “Mom’s at work, Dad.” I tried to sound unflustered. “She won’t be home until midnight. I’ll tell her to call you when she gets in. Oh! Unless it’s too late?”

  “No, that’s fine. Tell Ann to call. I’ll be up. I’ll wait for her call.”

  I loved the way he said that, too! I’ll wait for her call. After that, I was so excited I couldn’t just sit still and patiently wait for Mom. When she came home, I was in the kitchen, cleaning up. I’d been baking for hours, chocolate chip cookies by the panful and a big eggy sponge cake that was Mom’s favorite.

  “Smells good,” she said, sitting down and taking off her shoes. She massaged her neck. “I’m tired. Why are you up so late, Em?”

  I poured her a cup of tea. “Dad called.”

  She yawned and nodded.

  “He wants you to call him back.”

  “Why?” she said, sounding surprised.

  I told her about the weekend, and then I brought her the phone. “Do you want me to dial the number?”

  “Now?” she said. “I just want to go to bed and get some sleep now.”

  “I told him you’d call, Mom. He said it was okay for you to call as soon as you came in.” I held out the phone. “I’ll dial. It’ll be easy. You just have to say I can come. Okay?”

  “Emily, I can’t just say yes.”

  “You’re going to let me go, aren’t you?!”

  “Well, I have to ask your father some things.”

  “What things! What are you worried about? It’s Dad.”

  Mom sighed. “Dial,” she said. “Let’s get it over with.”

  I swear my fingers were shaking when I dialed. A thousand things were going through my mind. Would my mother find a reason for me not to go? What if Dad had changed his mind about the trip? Maybe he hadn’t even said it. Maybe I’d just imagined it! He answered on the first ring. “Dad? Hi! Mom’s right here.” I thrust the phone into her hand.

  “Hello, Max.” she said. She sounded sort of aloof, and she asked Dad a ton of questions—where we’d be staying, how much time I’d spend alone, what kind of clothes I needed, who was paying for all this. Did she have to say all those things? Why couldn’t she just trust Dad? Mom, be nice to him … be friendly … you know how to be sweet … tell him we miss him.…

  When she hung up, she yawned again and said, “All arranged.”

  “All arranged? I’m going?”

  “You’re going,” she said with a little smile.

  “Mom!” I threw my arms around her and hugged her.

  Friday afternoon, Mr. Linaberry drove me to the airport after school. Mom was at the hospital. Bunny was at our house, taking care of the twins. Everything was working out perfectly, but I was in something of a trance. I couldn’t believe I was going to see Dad again, at last. I kept telling myself not to fantasize, not to make up stories, but I couldn’t help it. I kept imagining him saying he wanted to come back to us, that he knew he’d made a big mistake, and he was really meeting me in the city to ask me—no, to BEG me—to talk to Mom, to smooth the way for him to return to us. Us, his real family.

  “Here’s your airline,” Mr. Linaberry said, stopping the truck in front of the building.

  I picked up my knapsack and glanced at my watch.

  “Plenty of time,” he said.

  I opened the door and started to get out, then I realized I hadn’t thanked him. It was a half-hour drive from home to the airport, and I hadn’t said a single word to him the whole way. I’d been all wrapped up in my fantasies about my father. Mom’s words came back again. Emotionally immature. Wouldn’t I ever forget that?

  I slid back into the truck, balancing on the edge of the high seat with my legs dangling. “Thank you for the ride, Mr. Linaberry.”

  “That’s okay.”

  I felt that I should say something else. “I really really appreciate you taking me here.”

  “That’s okay.”

  He wasn’t looking at me. Did he hate me? Did he think I was a spoiled brat? Emotionally immature? I bit my lip. What else could I say to him? I couldn’t be a hypocrite and say, I love you, or anything like that. And I certainly couldn’t tell him I was sorry I’d called him ugly! If I was lucky, he’d never know about that.

  I said, “Would you tell Wilma and Chris I’m going to bring them back something from New York City? I forgot to say it.”

  “Sure, sure.”

  “I thought it might make them feel a little better about not seeing Dad if they know I’m going to bring them something,” I explained.

  Mr. Linaberry nodded.

  It seemed to me that by telling him all this, I was letting him know I was trying to accept that he was Mom’s friend. Of course, if Dad came back to us, Mr. Linaberry could never be anything else but a friend. Oh, please, I prayed again. And suddenly I felt totally light, almost weightless, and a feeling of happiness spread through me, as if I knew for sure my message had flown across the country and lodged in Dad’s heart.

  “I’ll bring you something, too, Mr. Linaberry,” I said impulsively. I was so full of an extraordinary happiness in that moment I just wanted to spread it out, share it.

  “Me?”

  “What would you like?”

  He thought about it. “Maybe a pencil that says, ‘New York City, the Big Apple.’”

  “Okay.”

  “Or a Statue of Liberty T-shirt.”

  “Okay.”

  “I’d like that,” he said.

  “Okay,” I said again. It was probably the best conversation Mr. Linaberry and I had ever had.

  When I got on the plane, I took out my journal to write. “With all my dreaming about Dad, I hardly gave one thought to Wilma and Chris. I realized this when I was talking to Mr. Linaberry after he brought me to the airport. I always thought I was so mature and unselfish. It seems like most of the time, though, I’m thinking about myself. I want to be be more mature. I’m going to try much harder to be more considerate toward other people, and be more serious and down t
o earth and mature.”

  It made me feel better to write that.

  The steward brought around drinks, and peanuts in a little silver bag. I sipped my soda and looked out the window. In just twenty minutes, I’d see Dad again. We’d talk and make plans. We’d be closer than ever. What if he said Marcia would be so hurt by his leaving her? I’d point out that they hadn’t even been married three years, so it wouldn’t be anything near as horrible as when he and Mom split up. It had to hurt a lot more the longer you were married. Then I thought about my half sister, Rachel. Maybe I would suggest to Dad that Marcia and Rachel move east, too, so he could see the baby sometimes. Even if she was too young to understand what was happening, I didn’t want Rachel to go through what we had gone through.

  The plane landed at La Guardia with a thump, and my heart thumped, too, with a sudden scary thought. What if I didn’t recognize my father after all this time? I walked through the long tunnel filled with people holding briefcases and flight bags. In the gate area, I searched the crowds for Dad. I didn’t see him anywhere and, in a panic, I put on my glasses as I started walking toward the main terminal.

  Dad was waiting right outside the security gate in a crowd of people. I saw him before he saw me, and for a split second it was like looking at a stranger. He was wearing a dark suit, a striped tie and a striped shirt, and he looked like someone impressive and serious. Not like my father, who was always full of fun.

  I walked toward him fast, my knapsack over one shoulder, bumping against me. “Dad,” I called. “Dad, Dad!”

  “Emily—!” He stepped toward me.

  I’d forgotten that he stooped a little, as if he were always on the verge of stepping through a door that wasn’t quite high enough. I’d forgotten that his hairline was receding, and that he showed a high curved forehead. How could I have forgotten so much? How could I have forgotten even one tiny detail about him? My eyes filled, I dropped my knapsack, and threw my arms around him.

  Chapter 22

  “Bunny, hi! Are you awake? Did I call too early?”

  “At noon? You know I never sleep ’til noon.”

  “So take a guess where I’m calling you from.”

  “A phone booth on the street. I can hear the car horns and sirens.”

  “Wrong.”

  “A cellular phone in a taxi.”

  “Wrong! I’m in the hotel. In our room. You can hear all that stuff even though the windows are closed and we’re on the sixteenth floor.”

  “What are you doing? What have you done? Is it exciting being there? Tell me everything.”

  “Last night, after Dad met me at the plane, we took a taxi to the hotel. He was already checked in, so we just went up, and I unpacked. We ate supper and then we went to a movie. Right now, I’m waiting for Dad to come back from his meeting. He was gone when I woke up. The first thing I did was take a shower—”

  “Emily. Emily! You don’t have to tell me every detail.”

  “You said for me to tell you everything.”

  “Right, but I didn’t mean everything. Just give me the important stuff.”

  “I have to tell you this, Bunny. It’s a luxury hotel. There’s a basket in the bathroom with tiny fancy bottles of shampoo and three different kinds of hand-milled soap. There’s a big fluffy white bathrobe to put on after your shower. Plus a hair dryer, remote control TV, of course, and a tiny refrigerator full of snacks.”

  “What kind of snacks?”

  “I knew you’d like that. Chocolate, crackers, sodas, little bottles of juice. A bar of chocolate is four dollars. Everything is unbelievably expensive. Did I say we ate in the hotel dining room last night? It’s beautiful. The tablecloths and napkins are pink linen. There’re flowers on every table. A waiter in a black tux took our order. Guess what Dad’s baked potato cost? Three dollars! Last week I bought Mom ten pounds of potatoes in the market, and I didn’t pay half that much.”

  “Was the food good?”

  “Delicious! Dad’s trying to lose weight. He had shrimp cocktail, baked potato, and some kind of grilled fish. Red snapper, I think. I had baby lamb chops with mint jelly and chocolate cake for dessert. I don’t want to even tell you how much the whole thing cost.”

  “Were the baby lamb chops wearing little diapers? Sorry, I couldn’t resist. Are we through with last night? Have you done anything exciting this morning?”

  “I ate breakfast in a croissant shop. I walked around for hours. I experienced New York. Park Avenue. Lexington Avenue. Fifth Avenue. They’re fabulous. Dad said if I stayed around the streets near the hotel, I would be okay. You wouldn’t believe the things you see in the stores here.”

  “Did you buy anything?”

  “I just window-shopped. I didn’t have the nerve to go in anywhere.”

  “Emily, they don’t charge you for walking into a store. You’ve got to go in. When I was in New York with Mom last year, half the fun was shopping.”

  “Well, you’re just more sophisticated than I am.”

  “True.”

  “I think I’m running out of things to tell you.”

  “Okay, I’ll tell you something. Our mutual friend called me last night.”

  “Robertson?”

  “Yes. He’s madly madly in love with me.”

  “That’s what he said?”

  “Aren’t you glad his Emily fever is gone?”

  “What else did he say?”

  “Oh, this and that. He just about wants to run away with me.”

  “Did he tell you you were beautiful and adorable and cute?”

  “Emily, I thought I was bringing you good news. I thought I’d hear a rousing cheer and that there’d be a big celebration. The pest is out of your life at last!”

  “Well … he wasn’t that much of a pest.”

  “Are you telling me you care, Emily? I thought Robbie was just one big pain to you.”

  “Robbie?”

  “That’s what I call him … Emily, are you jealous?”

  “Nooo! But I didn’t exactly hate the guy, Bunny.”

  “Don’t worry, you’re still his friend. That’s probably much better than being the object of his overwhelming affections.”

  “How much do you like him?”

  “Hmmmm. He’s a cute kid, and he knows how to kiss. But it is kind of embarrassing to like someone twelve years old!”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Yeah … that’s the thing.”

  “How much have you kissed him?”

  “Hold on there. I just saw him at the picnic. You know what happened there.…”

  “Yes …”

  “I couldn’t help myself. It was a case of instant insanity.”

  I had to laugh. “You’re crazy.”

  “That’s what I just said. Oh, my mother’s calling me. I gotta hang up now, Emily. Love ya!”

  “Me, too. ’Bye.”

  “’Bye-bye!”

  That afternoon, Dad and I went to a museum, another movie, and F.A.O. Schwarz, a really great toy store, to find presents for Wilma and Chris. “I don’t know how we’re doing so much,” Dad said. He tucked my arm through his. “We’re terrific, Emily. We’re taking this city by storm.”

  We had so much fun. Everything we did was fun. I hoped I would never forget a single thing. I promised myself as soon as we got back to the hotel I’d write everything down in my journal. The only thing I didn’t like was that we were so busy we didn’t get to really talk.

  We ate supper in a Mexican restaurant. The walls had bright murals of Mexico painted on them. There were candles on the tables and mariachi music playing in the background. The food was better than any Mexican food I’d ever tasted. We started talking about the twins, and I told Dad how Chris took his Original Disappearing Snowman paperweight everywhere.

  “He really likes it.” Dad looked pleased.

  “He’d like anything that came from you,” I said. Then I told him some Wilma stories.

  Dad really laughed. “She’s somet
hing else. She’s a pistol! That girl is always going to be okay; she’ll know how to take care of herself. By the way, Emily—”

  Everytime he said by the way … I got a tight feeling in my chest, and I thought about him coming back to us. “Yes, Dad?” Was he going to say it now? Under the table, I crossed my fingers. I looked at him, his eyes, his broad shining forehead and big bony shoulders. I loved him so much.

  “I just realized, with all our shopping, we didn’t get you anything today. We should have bought something for you in the museum shop.”

  “I don’t want anything. I’m here this weekend. That’s my present.”

  “Are you sure? Don’t you want anything at all?”

  My heart gave that plane-landing thump. Yes, there was something I wanted! I looked down at my plate. In the scraps of food, in the bits of tortilla and shreds of lettuce on my plate, I suddenly saw the letters H and R. H for Home. R for Return. I looked up. “Dad, are you ever coming back?”

  “What? Back?” A startled, unhappy look crossed his face.

  “I want you to come home,” I said.

  “Emily. Emily. This was settled long ago. That’s not my home anymore. Your mom and I aren’t—”

  “It’s not right for me not to have a father.” My eyes were wet.

  “You do have a father.”

  “Far away! I never see you. It’s not fair.”

  “I know how you feel, honey. Don’t you think I wish I could see more of you, too? I love seeing you. I wish I didn’t live so far away.”

  “Why did you go there? You shouldn’t have gone there.”

  “You know why, for a better job. And if I come to New York City, it’ll be for a better job, too.” He put his hand over mine. “It’s been a great weekend so far, honey. We’ve had fun, we’ve done a lot together, and it isn’t over yet.” I nodded and sank down in my seat. I wished I was home. I didn’t want to be here anymore. I didn’t want to even look at Dad. I told myself I had to act mature, and I forced out a smile. Why did I feel this way? What was the matter with me? In my mind, my sensible mind, my emotionally mature mind, hadn’t I always known he wasn’t coming back?