by Emma Quinn
Not to mention that most of my so-called friends, you know the models, actors, actresses, musicians, and the plain old too rich for their own good people, were not easy to find once I cancelled parties and refused a couple invitations on the grounds that I had to work. They disappeared just like fog at sunrise, slow at first, and then whoosh, gone entirely.
I didn’t really miss many of them. Hell, I couldn’t even remember most of their names. Faces in a crowd, one melting into the other from whatever drugs or booze I had been on at the time mixed with a lack of sleep and proper nutrition. I had been a literal train wreck. The last several years of my life were akin to that soggy sandwich I tried to eat the second week on the warehouse job. It just lost all its appeal and fell away chunk by sloppy chunk until I was left with a pretty empty slate for the future.
I had more energy, the dark circles disappeared from under my eyes, and there were days when I was happy for no reason at all. There was no drama—as comes standard with the group I was hanging around with. And, at night, after my shift ended, I went home and could simply relax and unwind.
I might mention here, that the beach party pad was not the house I went to. After my third week working, I took up residence in a much smaller house closer to the city and work. It was actually the first house I lived in alone, so as you can imagine, it was quite different from the beach house. But I liked it. When I moved out, the house was still in my father’s name, and I swore I would never return to it for any reason. At the time, I saw no reason that could make me want to move back there. Alas, that is where I went.
I’m sure the irony of my going back to the smaller house was not lost upon my father, but he didn’t comment about it. Instead, he handed me the keys, smiling, and patted me on the shoulder. “Good to see you’re making some wise changes in your life, son. It’s about time.” And he walked away.
That wasn’t really a verbal pat on the back, I took it as he was being snide. I bit my tongue to cut off a hot retort, knowing that no matter why he had said it the way he had, he had been right. It had been about time for me to straighten up my life.
That night at work, I told Emily about moving houses and leaving behind the oceanside party pad. She seemed happy, but then she always seemed happy when we talked. I never noticed her being down and out about anything. Still, I couldn’t figure what she had to be so damn happy about. I mean, she didn’t have loads of money, and she worked either at the warehouse or on her schoolwork constantly. I couldn’t see how any of that could make someone happy.
Maybe her attitude had worn off on me. That would explain why I was happy sometimes for absolutely no reason.
I looked forward to my evening shift job so I could see her. We talked a lot during our mid-shift break. She sometimes goaded me about the meals I brought from home; I’m not very good in the kitchen, so my meals didn’t always look the best.
Emily, on the other hand, was excellent in the kitchen. We had started sharing meals she brought. I can’t recall what actually started the tradition, but I did enjoy it. She brought the meals happily, and she was proud that she had prepared them. After a few times of this, I offered to return the favor, to which she replied that I should just bring snacks. I laughed, recalling the few things I had brought that were outright terrible.
“That hurt my feelings, Emily.” I feigned the hurt expression.
“No, it didn’t. I heard you breathe a sigh of relief when I said snacks only.” She laughed and tossed a cheese puff at me playfully.
“You’re right. I did.”
Giving me a quizzical look, she asked, “So, didn’t your mom ever teach you how to cook anything?”
I’m sure that she asked just out of curiosity, which was something she didn’t do very often, but it hit a nerve. I thought about my answer for a moment; it was long enough that she became uncomfortable.
Her eyes widened. “Oh, god. I’m sorry, Dylan. Just ignore my big old nose. I didn’t mean to stick it in your personal business.”
Her cheeks flushed prettily, and I shook my head, grinning. “You don’t have a big old nose. I think you have a perfect little button nose that’s just the perfect size.”
Her jaw dropped and she gawked at me for a moment, a chip poised in the air as she paused bringing it to her mouth. She blinked once, her face flamed a deep red, and she cleared her throat as she looked down at the table.
“My mom left us when I was thirteen. I was just trying to think how to whitewash it, but there it is. She left, and no, she never taught me to cook anything other than hot cocoa and cookies.” I tried to chuckle, but it stuck in my throat and I ended up looking away. I had never told anyone about that before. My celeb friends wouldn’t have given two hoots about it either way and any show of concern would likely have been fake anyway.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to pry. Really.” She dropped her chip and dusted her fingers off. “That’s terrible and I’m sorry I made you have to think about it.” She seemed uncomfortable and embarrassed.
I tried to save the situation as a cloud fell over her usually cheery face. “No, no. It’s all right. It’s in the past.” I put my hand over hers to keep her from running away from the table. “And, it felt pretty good to actually say it out loud to someone.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “You’ve never told anyone that your mother left?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t have anyone to tell about it. I mean, my father and I rarely ever talked about it. I don’t think he could; he was devastated.”
“What about all your friends?” She sounded truly mystified.
Chuckling wryly, I shook my head. “I’ve learned over the past few weeks that I really didn’t have any friends. They’ve all vanished, it seems.” I looked away and mumbled, “Probably for the best, anyway.”
“That had to be hard on you at such a young age. I’m really sorry you had to go through that. And your dad, too.” Her eyes were full of sympathy.
I studied her for a moment. The genuine emotion from her moved me, and before I knew it, I was spilling my guts about something I thought I had gotten over years before.
“It was. It was awful. At first, I tried to go see her often. That was a mess. It seemed that every time we got near each other, an argument broke out. They all ended the same. I would scream terrible things, accusations, threats, whatever mean-hearted thing I could think of that would hurt her the most, and she ended up a sobbing lump in her chair. I hated her for a long time. Now, though…I’m not so sure how I feel about her. I do know one thing; I regret talking to her so badly. But I don’t know where to even start repairing such a broken relationship.”
A tear glistened at the corner of her eye. “There’s always time to start reaching out, to start trying to repair it, Dylan. You’ll only regret it for the rest of your life, if you don’t do something now.” She swiped at the corner of her eye as if it were itching, and successfully wiped away the tear. “I miss my mother every day. Yours is still alive, you still have time to talk to her, fix things with her, and learn to love each other.”
That time, the tear didn’t just glisten in the corner of her eye. It rolled down her cheek and she self-consciously wiped it away and started clearing her lunch away.
Shocked to my core, it was my turn to gawk wide-eyed at her. Quickly, I composed myself. “I’m sorry. I had no idea. You must think I’m a horrible person.” I tossed my trash in the bin. “Maybe I am. No one should treat their mother the way I have.” And I was a bit angry at myself over it. I had been for years, but my stupid pride had kept me from apologizing. After all, she was the one who left; in my mind, she should apologize for striking first. Her departure was what had caused the rift between us. Her actions had been deliberate and conscious. My actions were the reactions of a wounded, confused teenager. Still, I was angry that I had been so hateful to her and never apologized.
Emily sat and closed her bag, pushing it aside, where it would remain until quitting time. “Thank you. And, no, I don’t thi
nk you’re a horrible person. I think you were a hot-headed, scared, hurt teenage boy who didn’t understand why or how your mother could just up and leave you like that. Of course you would lash out—most teenagers would. My relationship with my mother wasn’t perfect.”
“Really?” I sorely wanted to hug her, bring her a bit of comfort. I would have taken comfort from an embrace, too, I won’t lie.
“No, of course it wasn’t. No relationship is. What I’ve noticed, though, is that time slips by, life returns to some semblance of normalcy, and in my mind, our relationship has taken on a perfectness that just didn’t exist. Not quite, anyway. I tried to be a good daughter, and I was for the most part, but teens and parents argue over silly things, trivial things, sometimes. And, sometimes, they argue over big things like dating, car use, curfews, parties.” She chuckled and another tear ran down her cheek. She swiped it away with the back of her hand.
Sniffling, she smiled brightly at me. “In the end, it’s all-important that you show her how you feel before it’s too late. My mother knew how much I loved and respected her even though we didn’t always see eye to eye. She was proud that I chose to become a surgeon. She lit up like a Christmas Tree when I told her.” Her smile broadened naturally, and her gaze drifted somewhere between the present and past.
Emily was outright gorgeous. She took my breath in that moment. “I didn’t know you were going to be a surgeon. That’s quite an aspiration.”
She nodded and pulled her attention back to the present. “Yes. It’s a lot of hard work, but I firmly believe you either have a set goal to work towards, or you will spend your life drifting meaninglessly.”
“Ooh, that sounds deeply profound. I don’t think I’m equipped to process anything more profound than getting through my day here.” I laughed and stood. It was time to go back to work.
She joined me. “I’m a deeply profound philosophic kind of girl, didn’t you know?”
Feigning seriousness, I shook my head. “Nope. I thought you were just a pretty face with no brains at all.”
She swatted my arm playfully but still hard enough to sting a bit. I didn’t mind. I could still feel the tingle where her hand made contact an hour later as I sat staring at her from the window of my station. She moved so gracefully; it was like watching a prima ballerina as she moved between tables and around machines, turning knobs, typing commands, and answering the phone.
My feelings toward Emily shifted that night. We had made a profound connection. I wasn’t sure what it was, but it was there. Whether it was the subject of our mothers, or something deeper spawned by our opening up to each other, showing our vulnerabilities, it was definitely there, and I felt it with every fiber of my being. I had never felt like that with another person.
But that was something I would keep to myself. No need having her think I was being a creep, or a weirdo by giving voice to some strange feeling I had developed for her that she might not share.
8
Emily
I
was quite shocked at how easily I talked to Dylan about my mother. That was a touchy subject at best. He talked frankly about his mother, too. Maybe that’s what caused me to just spill about my own mom. I left the breakroom confused but happy and feeling lighter somehow.
For the first time, I could honestly say that I was happy that Dylan’s father had placed him in the warehouse. We were becoming friends, and to be honest, I felt a little more than friendly toward that sexy hunk of man on more than one occasion. Keeping that to myself while still trying to feed out enough subtle hints to see if he took the bait was very stressful for me. I had never played the game before. Really, I had just never been good at it.
On our last break, I couldn’t help bringing up the subject of his mom. I felt that something had to be done, and someone needed to push him in the right direction. That person wasn’t going to be his father. I understood that, too, though. Who knew what kind of bad blood there was between them? His father had been devastated and that likely meant he had built up a thick wall between himself and the cozy feelings he once had for his ex-wife.
That left me to push Dylan. He said he had no friends, so it had to be me. I couldn’t sit by with the new knowledge, and my own experience losing my mother, and not push him to mend things with her.
We were the only two in the breakroom again. Most of the other employees took their breaks at the back, near the delivery truck bays to save time and walking. This was going to be a fifteen-minute break, so I had to hurry.
He sat with a great heaving sigh, as if he had been hard at work all evening, which made me laugh. He kicked his feet up into an empty chair, which bothered me, but it didn’t seem to ever bother anyone else, so I let it go.
“So, not to bring up a bad subject, but you really should try to go see your mom, Dylan. Do you know where she lives now?”
“Oh, yeah. I know, all right. But I don’t know why I could even pretend to be going that wouldn’t start another argument. It’s best just to let things be sometimes.” He offered me one of his chocolate bars; I declined.
“Why make up a reason? Just tell her you want to come talk to her, that you would like to work on getting to know one another again.”
He pulled his feet out of the chair with a groan and turned to me. “If that was the case, couldn’t I just do that over the phone? I mean, that’s kinda why they were invented…so you could talk to people.” He grinned impishly.
“Don’t be that way. You know talking face to face is way better, and more meaningful, than over the phone. I’m serious. You should try to go see her. Like, soon.” I reached over the table and poked his forearm with the tip of my finger for emphasis. And, just to touch him. I liked touching him even though is sent shivers and butterflies through me.
“Well, what am I supposed to say to her after all this time? It’s not like I’m the best at breaking the ice, you know.” He raised his eyebrows at me and took a bite of chocolate.
I had no idea where those calories went, but they never touched his muscled figure, never put an ounce on him that I could see. As a matter of fact, since he’d started working with me, I had noticed he had lost some weight and was toner, fitter than before. It was hard to concentrate on the conversation I had initiated with my brain veering off to lust after him.
“Well…you could start with, ‘Hi, Mom’ I see nothing wrong with that at all.” I grinned back at him. I wondered what it would be like to be alone with him, with his hands on me, his lips kissing me—I broke the thought off and physically shook myself to regain my composure.
He laughed. I didn’t. “Oh, you’re serious?”
I nodded. “As a heart attack. You have to start somewhere.”
“All right. You win. I’ll take it into consideration that I should try to start a relationship with my mother again.” He laughed and opened the second candy bar.
I cocked an eyebrow at him, showing my disbelief.
He held up both hands in mock surrender. “Oh my god! All right. I’ll take it under serious consideration.” He looked at me and chortled, shaking his head. “Okay. Stop already. I’ll figure it out. I promise.” He made an X over his heart.
“That’s much better. I’m going to hold you to it, too,” I said in a serious, stern tone.
“Oh, I believe you will.”
By then, the break was over, and we headed back to finish out the shift. I told him on the way back that I wouldn’t be at work on Friday nights for a while; I had to finish another project for school and needed the extra time over the weekend to get it done.
He acted as if he wasn’t happy about it, but he understood. Again, I wasn’t sure if he was starting to feel more serious about me or not. I hoped he was, because I was definitely letting my feelings run away with me. It was part lust and part true feelings. I had my head on straight enough to know that the two could become intermingled and feel the same. That’s what led many young women into believing they were in love, when in fact, it was only h
ormones. It was only the body doing what it does naturally. We’re programmed for such behavior—it ensures the continuance of the human race.
And right about then, I would have loved to put in some practice runs with Dylan. Maybe that would settle it for me. If it was merely lust, surely a romp in the bed would clear up the mystery.
That’s how I dealt with my feelings toward him while at work. At night, when I had turned out all the lights, crawled under the covers to wait for sleep, it wasn’t that easy. That’s when I was sure that I was falling in love with him. I cared for him deeply, anyway, even if it wasn’t love. Some nights, I gave up on sleep and studied to keep my mind off him and what he might or might not be doing at that very moment. As the sun rose, I would drift off for a few hours; usually just long enough to feel horribly tired when the alarm started blaring.
In the daylight, though, I could get my feelings in order and wrap them in a blanket of other things to keep them hidden—especially from Dylan. I would die if he ever found out how much I thought about him. I was, for lack of a better word, obsessed with him.
Every day, I forced myself to reevaluate my long-term goals. Becoming a surgeon didn’t happen overnight. It happened over years. Several years of long hours of studying and even longer hours of interning, being on-call, practicing. I couldn’t see a place in those years where a boyfriend would fit in easily. Relationships took a lot of work, and I simply didn’t have the time.
That’s what I told myself every morning. Believe it or not, it helped. It allowed me to keep my emotions in check around Dylan.
My other reasoning was that if I let my guard down and let him know how I felt, he could hurt me. I also didn’t have time, or the willingness, to endure heartbreak that could be prevented.
It’s amazing what you can talk yourself into under the right set of circumstances.
My next evening at work, Dylan seemed happier than usual. He was downright playful as we started the shift. Even my father noticed. The look he gave me about it made me uncomfortable. I didn’t know why at the time.
