Underneath the arch, wearing a suit matching mine, calm and handsome and more beautiful than anything I had ever seen in the whole world, was my Emmet.
He smiled as he saw me, a very Emmet smile, slightly crooked and too wide, his gaze fixed just above my head. “Hello, Jeremey.”
My heart soared. “Hello, Emmet. This is beautiful. But why are we on the roof, and why is it decorated like this? Are we having some kind of party?”
“I’ll explain it to you, but you need to come closer. I have something I need to tell you, and something I need to ask you.”
He led me to the edge of the building to gaze out over the neighborhood. My heart fluttered as my mind raced, trying to figure out what might be going on.
“Do you see the street down there, the intersection and stretch of road by the yellow house and the clump of trees by the green truck? That’s where we met at the block party.” Emmet pointed to the space, then to another section of the neighborhood. “And there’s your parents’ house, and my family’s house. Oh, and look, there’s the moon, over that tree.”
I blinked, certain he had to be wrong, but no, there it was, a pale half shape, hovering over a treetop, blue white and against the sky. “Wow. I didn’t notice it was there.”
“The moon wanted to come say hello, because this is a big day. All of our important places and things are close by to us up here. Bob has talked about making a rooftop greenhouse for The Roosevelt, and if he does, we could always come up here and see our important places. Except I want to make this roof another important place for us right now. I want it to be the place where I told you how much I love you and how much I always want you in my life, for all of my life.”
My insides went gooey, and I squeezed Emmet’s hand. “I always want you in my life too. I don’t ever want to be without you. I love you so much, Emmet Washington.”
Emmet kissed my cheek, a soft brush that made me want to swoon. Then he let go of my hand, went back to where he’d been standing when I came onto the roof, and pulled a small white bag from his pocket. “Mai.”
Mai’s ears perked up. She was trained to listen to Emmet’s commands too.
“Mai, take it.”
Mai checked with me, and once I set her free from her leash, she went, collecting the bag from Emmet.
“Go give it to Jeremey.”
She brought the bag carefully to me in her mouth, releasing it to me when I asked her to drop it. I opened it with shaking hands as Emmet closed the distance between us once more. The bag was tied with gold string, and when I undid the knot, I tipped the bag upside down and emptied the contents into my palm.
A pair of rings fell out.
Emmet took one of them and held it over the tip of the fourth finger of my left hand, though he didn’t slip it on. “Jeremey Andrew Samson, will you marry me?”
The world, already subdued, grew gentler still, so tender and fragile and perfect I wasn’t sure I could breathe. I stared at the ring hovering over my finger, felt the weight of its companion in my palm. Realized what Emmet had asked me, what was happening to me, that it was real, and my emotions were such an overwhelming sea I thought I might drown in them.
As always, Emmet was my anchor. He reached for me before Mai could sense the riot inside me, touching my arm with his free hand. “Did I do it wrong? I’m sorry. I tried to make it a proposal you would like.”
The idea that he thought I didn’t like this stirred me out of my frozen state. I shook my head, drawing a low, deep breath to calm myself before I attempted to speak. “I love it. It’s perfect. So perfect it overwhelmed me for a moment.” I squeezed my hand around the ring in my palm—Emmet’s ring, the one he had given to me—and drew another breath as I lifted my gaze to his, or rather I looked into his eyes, which were still focused above me. “Yes, Emmet. I would love very much to marry you. Thank you for asking me in such a wonderful way.”
He slipped the ring onto my finger, past the knuckle until it was snug in its place at the end, glinting in the twilight. “I measured your handprint to make sure the size would fit.”
I recalled the activity Sally had suggested a few weeks ago one Saturday, a handprint collage on the lounge wall, how they’d gently bullied me into making a handprint too, and I smiled to myself. “You had a lot of help, getting this set up.”
“Yes. I told you. I wanted to give you a proposal you enjoyed.”
Because Emmet wouldn’t have needed any of this. He would have been content to ask me at the dinner table, so long as we weren’t actively consuming food at the time. He truly had done this for my sake, down to asking Mai to bring me the ring. I was moved all over again, and had to pause to wipe tears from my eyes. “Here. Let me put your ring on you too.”
The rings weren’t gold. They were a kind of silvery color, and they had a wavy blue line across the middle filled with sapphires, like an ocean.
“There are bands that fit on them,” Emmet explained as I slid the ring on his finger. “For when we get married. But I wanted us to wear rings now, so we could think about being engaged each time we looked at our hands. I thought you would appreciate that part. And I would enjoy it too.”
He was correct. I did like it. I loved all of it, everything he was giving me. I love you, Emmet. “The rings are beautiful. Did you pick them out yourself?”
“Yes. At Ames Silversmithing. They said if you didn’t care for them, we can get different ones. But I thought I could guess which ones you would prefer and you would enjoy the surprise better than making the decision.”
“You thought right.” My heart swelled, so full I thought it would burst. “I love you so much.”
“I love you too.”
“May I kiss you, Emmet?”
He kissed me instead, leaning in to press his lips to mine, sweetly at first, then teasing his tongue against mine to kiss me more deeply. We had gotten quite good at kissing since we first started, knew how to do the dance with each other, and yet no kiss had ever been quite like this one: a kiss on a rooftop to seal our engagement.
Married. I was going to get married.
To Emmet.
The distant blare of a train horn cut through the moment, then sounded once more as the train came closer, and I lifted my head toward the source of the disturbance. Emmet turned as well, a look of pleasure on his face, and I laughed.
“You knew this train was coming, didn’t you? You timed the proposal to happen when it would come by.”
His smile widened, and he kept his gaze on the tracks, where the engine had appeared around the gap in the trees. “Not all of the proposal was for you.”
I put my arm around his waist, leaned on his shoulder, easing against him with careful pressure, letting my heart float into the clouds as my dog arranged herself on top of my feet and the train rolled slowly past. “I’m glad,” I replied, and settled in to watch.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Emmet
I enjoyed being engaged, mostly.
The trouble was dealing with people finding out I was engaged. Jeremey’s parents were uncomfortable. He hadn’t had much contact with them since he moved out of their house because of their rocky past relationship, and Dr. North had said he thought it was a good idea. I did too. But when we got engaged, Jeremey insisted he had to meet with them. “How could I get married and not tell them?”
So we went to tell them, and it was awkward. They’ve never liked me, and they didn’t like me that day either. They don’t think I’m a whole person because I have autism, and they think Jeremey should be with someone better. Dr. North said also they didn’t want to see Jeremey growing up, but I think mostly they don’t want him growing up with someone with autism. I wish we could have skipped talking to them, but this is part of being an adult. They’re going to be my in-laws, and a lot of people have difficult in-laws.
It wasn’t only Jeremey’s parents who judged us though, and some of them judged Jeremey as much as they did me. This was the problem of our being so public, w
ith all the performances. People saw us everywhere and knew our business, and they left comments on our videos and our social media pages. The word got out about our engagement, and some people thought we shouldn’t be getting married, which always made me upset. They were total strangers, faceless and usually nameless, interjecting their thoughts and opinions on our lives and our worth as people. I wasn’t supposed to read those comments, but I often did anyway. Jeremey did too, and they upset him more than me. He had to go hug Mai for a long time afterward. There were mentions of the R word and people saying people like us shouldn’t get married.
What did they mean, people like us? Who decided they got to judge us?
Mostly, however, people were happy for Jeremey and me, and now when we did our events for the foundation and the project, I could talk about my fiancé instead of my boyfriend, and when Jeremey and I did our dance, our rings would catch in the light and I would remember I was getting married, which always made me feel good.
The other problem I had was one Sally told me was a common problem for engaged couples, which was everyone asking when we’d set a date for the wedding ceremony. We had not set a date yet because right now our focus was the vote and too much planning at once would upset Jeremey, so we’d decided to make those decisions later in the summer, since we weren’t in a hurry. But it was always the first question people asked, and it was annoying.
I did feel a little more adult, being engaged. Jeremey said the same thing, though he said it wasn’t so much grown up as that he belonged.
“It’s such a normal thing, to be engaged. Living at The Roosevelt makes me feel like a regular person, no different than anyone else in Ames or the rest of the country. Being engaged for me is similar to you getting a job a Workiva. It’s a life step I wasn’t sure I was going to get to take. I’m glad I get to do it. It’s not why I said yes to you, but it’s a nice benefit.”
I thought about trying to work something about that into my speeches but it was personal between Jeremey and me. I kept it in mind, though, because it was just another thing The Roosevelt Project and The Roosevelt Foundation stood for: making safe places for people like Jeremey and me, where we could feel normal and do whatever we wanted.
“What normal do you want?” I asked Darren one day when we were sitting together in my apartment. He was visiting me, helping me with a program on my computer. “I have my job and my engagement to Jeremey, my apartment here, and The Roosevelt Project. What are you looking for? Not for other people, but for you?”
Darren considered this before signing to me. I think I would like to fall in love. With a person in real life, not online.
I was surprised to hear him say this, because usually Darren didn’t want to do this. He said he preferred to keep romantic relationships confined to people on the Internet where they couldn’t get complicated with physical expectations. I signed back to him. Do you have someone you’re in love with?
Darren made his sign for no—he doesn’t care to shake his head. But I think I let myself hide too much when I lived at Icarus. Being with The Roosevelt Blues Brothers has taught me to let myself be with other people. To be myself in my body as well as my mind. I want to find someone who wants to go on walks with me and watch movies with me and play games and get in fights, and care for me. Someone who doesn’t care that when I laugh I bark like a dog.
I smiled. I like your laugh. It’s sharp and pointed.
Yes, but I can’t fall in love with you because you love Jeremey. Also you focus on sex too much.
It was true, I did prioritize sex, and I was in love with Jeremey. There will be other people who like your laugh. We’ll find them.
Darren used his laugh then, but it was a soft bark. Are you Super Emmet now, saving everyone? You should save David too. He wants a partner more than me.
I wanted to help David too, yes, but first I had to figure out how to shelter the sea. All the Roosevelt Blues Brothers are super. We’ll save each other, and everyone else too.
We kept trying, kept going to our events, kept spreading our message. Darren worked hard online, boosting our videos in chat rooms local, statewide, and beyond. We needed the votes from people in Iowa, but he pointed out it didn’t hurt to keep the message coming in from the outside as sometimes pressure worked best from the outside in. David continued to be the resident charmer, always working the front lines of our events and sometimes going with his father to talk with people at private functions for the foundation. Jeremey continued to help each of us in his own way, and though he was the invisible Blues Brother in many ways, he was also the one we relied on the most, because he was always there, propping us up, offering the hand of support we didn’t know we needed.
I tried not to be overconfident, but I did feel good about our chances. So did Kaya, and so did Bob.
“The numbers look good,” Kaya told me one day after work. “The Roosevelt Foundation is just getting started, but it’s strong, and the polls are in our favor. The actual vote among the representatives is still a dead heat, but what I hear is the opposition is running scared. They think we’re going to win, Emmet.”
I was excited about this news, but in the end I think it would have been better if Kaya hadn’t told it to me. It made me lower my guard and let me be ruled too much by my emotions, and when RJ King found me, I wasn’t ready for him.
It was after an event in the park in Story City. The other Blues Brothers and I had gone after our performance to enjoy the antique carousel. They turned the calliope off for us while we rode as otherwise it would be too loud. David needed to go to the restroom once we were done riding, so Jeremey went with him to help, and Darren joined them in case they needed more help, and I decided I would make sure Bob and Kaya didn’t need anything as they finished talking with donors. They had told us we didn’t need to be around, but I thought I would make sure they hadn’t changed their minds.
I didn’t find Bob or Kaya in the pavilion, but I did find RJ King. When he saw me, he stopped talking to the man he was having a conversation with and came over, wearing a smile I didn’t like.
“Mr. Washington. How lovely to see you. I was hoping I would run into you, and here you are. Might I take a few minutes of your time to make you a proposition? Come walk with me outside. It’s such a lovely day.”
I thought about saying no to him, but I noticed people were watching us, people who might be donors Kaya and Bob needed. My octopus stirred, uncomfortable with RJ King’s trick and the situation in general. I decided the best move would be to follow him because I could always get away from him outside, which would also mean other people wouldn’t see me leaving.
I followed him out the door, humming softly.
He was right that it was a lovely day. The leaves were full on the trees now, and a soft, warm wind made them rustle as we walked beneath them. He had a large stride, but he didn’t rush me, which was kind of him at least.
“Your project is doing well, Emmet.” His voice wasn’t loud and slippery as it normally was. It was as if he had taken off a jacket, and this was the real RJ. “I will admit I underestimated you and your friends. I’m impressed. Well done.”
I wasn’t sure what to say, so I didn’t say anything. I thought about getting away from him as I’d originally planned, but since he wasn’t being an asshole, I decided I could stay a little longer. Maybe I would discover something that could help us beat him.
He continued to speak, still calm, still unlike the usual RJ King. He was almost kind, in fact. “This being said, as much as I admire what you’ve been able to do—perhaps because of how much I admire it—I wanted to let you know, there’s no way you’re going to get what you want. And I suspect I know your answer already, but I wanted to put this on the table all the same. If you were willing to stop now, to quit flaming the fires and ramping people up and making things annoyingly difficult for me, I’d be willing to quietly incorporate some of your ideas into my plans once the bill is passed. Not all, of course. They’re too expensiv
e and my investors would never stand for them. But I could work some of them in as a gesture of my appreciation.”
I stopped walking and stared at his back, not sure what he was saying.
He stopped too and turned to me. His face hadn’t changed, but his tone was flatter now. “It’s not an offer I’ll repeat. You’re making headaches for me, and I’d like to see them go away. But understand me when I tell you, there’s no way you’ll win. Whatever that woman is telling you, whatever fairy tales you’re spinning, at the end of the day, I’ll prevail. So if you want any victory at all, Emmet, this is where you take it. Here and now, in this park. You have my word I’ll keep my promise. I’ll let you tell me what parts you can’t live without, and I’ll be honest about which ones I can work in. I know what you think of me, but I’m not a monster. I’m a man. A father, a grandfather. I respect you, what you’ve done. I want to help you. This is how I can do that. Let me, Emmet. Let me help you.”
My octopus writhed, but it was more confused than upset. I understood what it was feeling. I had to rock and flap gently as I tried to find a way to respond. “You could help me by helping us win. You could join our foundation. You could back our project. You could get out of our way and help us get votes.”
“That wouldn’t help my business or the people involved in my business. I have to put them first.”
“I have to put my people first. They don’t want money, either. They want lives.”
“My businesses want to give your people lives. Better ones.”
Now I was angry, and so was my octopus. I didn’t like the way he said your people either. “No you don’t, because you don’t listen when we tell you the lives you’re offering us are bad ones, ones we don’t want.”
Shelter the Sea Page 16
