Jay scrubbed a hand over his face. “Why won’t you leave already?”
“The more you want me to leave, the more intrigued I am.”
“Of course you are,” he muttered.
“You would be the same. Don’t deny it.” She paused, then burst into laughter. “I know what it is!”
He sighed. “Let’s hear it.”
“You don’t have any friends coming over.” She pointed at him. “No, you have a booty call. Yes! That’s it!” She continued to laugh. “You have a booty call.”
“Can you please stop saying that?”
“Only if you confirm I’m right.”
Jesus. What was the fastest way out of this one?
“Fine,” he said. “You’re right, and now you can understand why I don’t want you here.”
She bounced in her seat. “I can’t wait to meet her. Have you slept with her before, or is this the first time? Or is this a secret girlfriend you haven’t told your family about? Oh, I can just imagine the look on Mom’s face when I tell her you have a secret girlfriend! She’ll definitely be paying you a visit tomorrow.”
“Alright, that’s enough.” He stood up, took Chelsea’s arm, and steered her toward the door. “It was nice to see you, but I have to get ready for my booty call, as you say.”
“Okay, okay. I get it. I’ll go.” She slipped her sandals back on and picked up her purse. “I’ll call you for the deets tomorrow.”
“You will not.”
“You’re right. I won’t.” She scrunched up her face. “Kinda gross, if I think about it. But I won’t forget about this.”
“I know.”
She opened the door. “Goodbye! Have fun tonight! Play safe! And spare a thought for your poor sister, who will have to listen to old people yelling about mahjong until the wee hours of the morning.”
Finally, at long last, Chelsea was out the door. That was an interruption he hadn’t anticipated. He went to the bedroom and changed into his outfit for tonight’s role-playing.
At precisely nine o’clock, Emily called and asked him to buzz her up, and he lit up simply at the sound of her voice.
She was different from Anika and Claire, that was for sure. But he wouldn’t let himself forget that it was, more or less, just a booty call, as his sister had said.
Chapter Thirteen
Tuesday after work, Emily went to Ryan’s bakery, as usual.
When she walked inside, the chimes above the door tinkled and the scent of baked goods hit her … and she just wanted to smile and smile.
Life was good.
Her little brother was talking to two women pushing strollers. They appeared quite taken with him, and they ordered lattes and a selection of desserts.
Emily sat down at her usual table near the back. Lauren joined her.
“I don’t get why they fawn over him,” Lauren said. “Especially when they’re married. He’s not that good-looking.”
“And you said he has no game.”
“It’s true. I stand by my words.”
Emily laughed, and Lauren returned to the counter.
A few minutes later, Ryan sat down across from Emily and handed her a coffee and a brownie. His brownies were dark chocolate and rich and perfect.
And probably laden with calories.
“No suggestive groaning this time,” he said.
“Fine, fine. If you insist.”
He leaned forward. “I want to name something after you.”
Huh?
“Like a cookie or square or cake,” he explained. “Tell me what you’d prefer, and I’ll try some things out in the next few weeks.”
“Let me get this straight. You want to have a cookie called ‘The Emily’?”
He nodded. “If you don’t want to use your name, I can let you name it instead. It’ll be something you really, really like. So there won’t be any white chocolate, because I know you’re not a fan.”
“I think you’re supposed to name things after your true love, not your sister.”
“I don’t have a true love. And you’re the reason this all happened in the first place.” He gestured around the bakery. “The reason I started baking.”
“That’s so sweet,” she said, putting a hand to her chest. It came out sarcastic, but that wasn’t how she meant it. She was touched. Truly.
“It can be as sweet as you want it to be. So what do you think?”
She remembered all the afternoons they’d spent baking after school, the batch of cookies he’d made her, all by himself, when she was sick. The years her father had been unwell—not all of her memories from that time were bad.
“Okay,” she said. “How about a cake? Just promise me it’ll have chocolate.”
“Promise.”
He smiled at her, but he didn’t say anything more for a while. She had an urge to ruffle his hair, but she didn’t.
When she was ready to leave, she asked Lauren for three cookies—all different kinds—and a brownie to go.
Lauren raised an eyebrow. “Comfort eating? Did you have a breakup?”
Emily shook her head.
“Of course not,” Lauren said. “What am I saying? You look too happy to be heartbroken.”
“They’re for a friend, who was curious when I told her that my brother owns a bakery.”
That was a lie.
The cookies and brownie weren’t for a friend, though she’d get something for Liz next time.
No, they were for her mother.
****
Emily clearly remembered the day everything had changed. She’d been thirteen.
Usually when Jay’s parents picked him up, they honked from the driveway. But that day, they both came inside. Jay’s expression turned guilty, and she knew what he’d done.
Her skin was cold, and not because of the winter air that had come through the door.
She’d tried so hard to keep them all together, and now it would be ruined.
“Hi, Nick. Emily.” Mrs. Cheng smiled at them. “Where’s your father?”
“He’s busy.” Emily was used to saying that now.
She put her hand on Nick’s shoulder and pulled him toward her. Unlike usual, he didn’t resist affection from his sister.
“We need to speak with him,” Mr. Cheng said. “It’s important. He’s in the basement, I assume?” He slipped off his boots and started toward the basement door, his wife behind him.
“No!” Emily shrieked. “Please don’t.” Her hand was probably bruising Nick’s shoulder.
“Em?” Ryan stepped out from the kitchen. They’d been making dinner together. “What’s happening?”
She turned toward Jay. “You tattletale. You have no idea what you’re doing!”
He looked at her helplessly.
She knew it was over, but she had to try. She stood in front of the door to the basement.
“We’re only trying to help,” Mrs. Cheng said. “We understand your father is not well. Please let us talk to him.”
We’re only trying to help. But they didn’t understand.
There would be nothing left of her family. She could lose everything.
And yet she was so, so tired, and what was the point of making a big fuss? They were adults. They would eventually get what they wanted. They would see her dad, and they would instantly know he wasn’t fit to be a parent. He was a completely different person from the attentive father he’d been two years ago.
Mr. Cheng stepped around her. She didn’t stop him, or his wife.
She threw another angry glance at Jay before returning to the kitchen with Ryan.
“Now get out the measuring cup.” She pushed a chair up to the cupboard so he could reach, and she tried to pretend it was business as usual. “One cup of lentils, okay?”
Emily sautéed the onion, garlic, carrot, and celery. When Ryan had measured out the lentils, she let him stir.
“Don’t touch the pot,” she said.
“I know.” He rolled his eyes.
&nb
sp; He knew a lot about cooking and baking. Probably more than most kids Emily’s age. But she couldn’t help but worry he’d burn himself.
“If we were going to double the recipe,” she said, “how many cups of lentils would we use?”
“Two. That was easy.”
Once the soup was simmering, Ryan went to play Legos with Nick and Jay. Emily got out her French homework and sat at the kitchen table, but she couldn’t conjugate verbs, not now.
She couldn’t hear anything from the basement. What were they saying? Could Jay’s parents call the police and get them taken away today?
She didn’t want to think about that. She wished she could focus on French.
Half an hour later, Mrs. Cheng came upstairs and sat on the chair beside her.
“Emily, we need to talk.”
Well. This was it.
“You’ve been doing all the housework, the cooking, the grocery shopping?” Mrs. Cheng asked. “It doesn’t sound like your father’s been doing it.”
Emily nodded.
And then, to her surprise, she was folded into a hug. It had been a long time since anyone had tried to comfort her. She started crying.
Mrs. Cheng gave her a tissue. “I think he’s severely depressed.”
“You mean he’s really sad.”
“No. Clinical depression. It’s a mental illness.”
“He’s just heartbroken. It happened after Mom left.”
The girls in Emily’s class had started passing around romance novels, but Emily had no interest in them. She was never going to fall in love, not if that’s what happened when you got your heart stomped on.
“It may have been triggered by the divorce,” Mrs. Cheng said, “but it’s not simply that he’s heartbroken. This isn’t a normal response. Your father is very sick. He needs to go to the doctor.”
“He won’t go.”
“I’ll make him. He’ll take drugs and see a therapist, and he’ll get better and be able to care for you again, okay? But until he’s better—”
“Please don’t tell anyone.” Emily grabbed the woman’s wrists. “I don’t want my brothers to be taken away from me.”
Mrs. Cheng frowned. “I don’t know what you mean.”
“They’ll put us in foster care, won’t they? And then we won’t be together anymore.”
“I will call your mother.”
“No. No.”
“She’s your mother. She should be looking after you if your father can’t do it.”
“But she won’t. I told her that Dad just goes to work and spends the rest of the time in the basement. He doesn’t eat, he rarely talks to us. I told her everything, and she said it wasn’t her problem anymore. She just gave me twenty bucks.”
Mrs. Cheng turned away and muttered some words that Emily would scold her brothers for saying.
“What about grandparents? Aunts and uncles?”
“My dad’s parents aren’t well. I don’t want to bother them. My mom’s mother is dead and my mom’s father is a horrible person. Trust me. Uncle Tony lives on the other side of the country. Aunt Lianna, my dad’s sister, and Uncle Robert are nice, but they have four children under six, including twin toddlers, and they live in Hamilton. You shouldn’t trouble them.”
“I need to tell someone in your family. I’ll call your aunt.”
“She won’t be able to look after us, though, and then you’ll call the authorities, and…” Emily put her face in her hands. “Or maybe they’d force my mother to take us, but I don’t want to live with someone who doesn’t want me.”
“Emily, I honestly don’t know what would happen if I called the Children’s Aid Society. I have no experience with that. But sadly, there are lots of children in worse situations. You are not being abused. You are being fed, clothed, and sheltered. You go to school. So for now, if your aunt agrees, we will not go to them.”
“What will happen?” For the first time in a long time, Emily felt a touch of hope.
“I’ll call your doctor and your aunt tomorrow. My hope is that your dad will start to get better within a few months. But until then, if your aunt and I check in on you sometimes, help you with the shopping and cooking, perhaps not much has to change. You can stay here with Nick and Ryan, but you won’t have to feel so alone, okay? Call us if you ever need anything. Tomorrow when I pick up Jay, I’ll bring you dinner.”
“I don’t mind cooking. Ryan helps me. He wants to own a bakery when he grows up.”
Mrs. Cheng smiled. “You’ve done a good job of taking care of your brothers. But you can’t go on like this. Your father can’t go on like this. Don’t worry, I’ll do everything I can to sort things out with him. Let me take care of it.”
It was strange to have an adult who said Emily could depend on her. She wasn’t used to being able to depend on anyone. She desperately wanted to believe everything Mrs. Cheng was saying, to believe they could all stay together and her father would get better.
“You don’t think this is my fault?” she asked quietly.
“How on earth could it be your fault?”
“Maybe if I’d been a better daughter, maybe if I’d done more positive thinking… Mom acts like everything that happens to you is your own doing.”
And that’s what disturbed Emily the most. That she had somehow brought this all on. That her brothers were suffering because of her. Because how could it be their fault? They were so young.
Her mom believed that if you wanted good things to happen to you, you had to think positive. She also believed that if bad things happened to you, it was because of all your negative thoughts. You got what you deserved.
“Listen to me,” Mrs. Cheng said, taking her hands. “Positive thinking can’t solve everything. None of this is your fault. I just wish I’d known sooner. But I understand why you didn’t feel you could trust anyone when your parents, the people you should be able to trust the most, weren’t there for you.”
Emily burst into tears again.
It had been so hard, trying to pretend nothing was wrong for the past year and a half. So exhausting. Mrs. Cheng hugged her again and told her again that it would all be okay, and Emily started to believe it.
That night, her father actually came upstairs. He gave her a goodnight kiss, but said nothing.
The following week, Mrs. Cheng convinced him to go to the doctor. He came home with a prescription for an anti-depressant and a referral to a psychiatrist.
Nothing much changed initially, except that Mrs. Cheng brought over noodles and pork buns, and she took Emily grocery shopping the following weekend. Grocery shopping with a car! It was so much easier.
Aunt Lianna came that weekend, too. She cried, now that she finally knew what was going on, and she took them to a movie.
The psychiatrist gave her dad a pamphlet on talking to kids about depression. Emily read it so many times, trying to understand what he was going through, that she practically had it memorized. She did her best to explain everything to Ryan.
The psychiatrist also wanted her father to take some time off work and go on disability. Apparently, her father was making lots of mistakes at work, and he’d started calling in sick rather often.
Still, Emily was skeptical. What good would it do for him to spend even more time alone in the basement, consuming cases of Diet Pepsi?
He stopped working, and occasionally she came home from school and found him on the main floor watching TV, which seemed like an improvement. A few weeks later, he did dishes. When he made them all blueberry pancakes and bacon for Sunday breakfast, she was overcome with emotion. But then she hardly saw him for a week—he didn’t leave the basement. Like that single breakfast had taken everything out of him.
It took six months, until he was on his third anti-depressant, before he really started to get better. But at least in those six months, there were people checking up on them, telling her everything would get better. Promising she would never be separated from her brothers. Aunt Lianna came from Hamilton a few
times a month, and Jay’s parents were there every week, to take her grocery shopping if nothing else.
She forgave him for blowing her cover. He wasn’t such a bad kid.
In July her father set up the badminton net in the backyard. Every day he wanted to play badminton with his kids, or go to the park and play catch. He started doing the grocery shopping and some of the cooking, and he didn’t look as gaunt and pale. For the first time in two years, Emily could go out and see her friends, the few she had. But she felt distant from them. She’d never told them what her life had been like.
In September he went back to work. Emily was in high school now, and they settled into a new routine, one where she wasn’t running the household and praying her father would eat tiny bites of whatever she brought down to the basement.
One day he left Nick and Ryan with a sitter and took Emily to get some new clothes. Then he took her out for lunch and ice cream. It made her feel like a little girl, sitting with her father in the ice cream shop.
“I am so, so sorry,” he said. She was afraid he would cry, but he didn’t. He just reached across the table and held her hand.
And her mother, throughout all of it, continued to see them only once a month.
****
Emily walked into Second Cup half an hour later and immediately located her mother, the cool, professional woman in a pantsuit. She’d called Emily on the weekend to say she would be in Toronto for work for a few days, and asked if they could meet up.
Had her mother contacted Ryan and Nick, too? Presumably. Though it seemed she wanted to see her children separately. And Ryan probably hadn’t picked up the phone anyway. He wanted nothing to do with her.
Emily wasn’t keen on this meeting, either. But she only saw her mom once or twice a year, the occasional email in between. It wasn’t a hardship to keep up the limited contact they had.
“Hello, Emily,” her mom said calmly, emotionlessly when Emily walked up to her table with a cup of coffee. “How are you?”
“I’m fine. How was the drive?”
“A little traffic coming into Toronto, but nothing major.”
“How’s work?”
Her mother nattered on about her job for a few minutes, but Emily wasn’t really listening.
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