Surviving Emma

by Jen Atkinson

  “Whatever you like, Kotes.”

  She bounced on the couch and shook my arm with her little hands. “What did you bring me?”

  “What did I bring you?” I smiled, teasing her. Of course I’d bought her a souvenir. “Why do you think I’ve brought you something?”

  “You’re Carter! Of course you brought me something.”

  “I did,” I said, “but it’s packed in a bag.”

  “That’s okay. Mom said when you got here I should go home with you and she’d meet us at your place.”

  So—no texts or calls, but she knew I’d come. Was I pathetic or just predictable? “What if I have plans?” I said, more to my own thoughts than to Dakota.

  Virgie looked away from the television and studied me, her brows raised, waiting for me to answer my own question.

  “Well, you don’t, do you?” Dakota’s head lobbed to the side. “We haven’t seen you for a week. It wouldn’t have been very nice to make plans when you knew we’d be missing you.”

  “You missed me?” I said, bringing myself back from this strange place of uncertainty and pity.

  Her little eyes rounded and she glared at me—looking more like Emma than Keith in that moment. “Of course we missed you!”

  “I missed you, too. Should we go?”

  Dakota nodded, ready to find her prize amongst my things.

  Emma

  Taggart griped as I closed the front door. It had been one of the longest days of my life—but Carter waited at his place for me. He’d come back. He’d texted for the first time in a week, saying he had Dakota. I needed to see him. I needed him to tell me that I could change my path, that life wasn’t just a natural disaster happening to me. He believed it, even if I didn’t. I’d never needed another person in all my life—besides when Grandma Daisy cared for me—but in that moment I needed him.

  I had this strange anxious agony building inside me telling me that Florida would change him. He’d been distracted and stressed before he left. What if our Carter had left parts of himself in Florida? Or decided to go back?

  Even with my anxiety I sped up to his front door, knocked once, and then opened it up. I heard the sizzling of food cooking on the stove top and the overwhelming feeling of home slammed into me. Carter and Kotes cooking in the kitchen—my favorite kind of normal.

  “Hello?” I said, and Keith met me at the door, wagging his tail and drooling.

  “In here!” Dakota yelled.

  My body took control as if a magnetic pull hurried me into the room where they were. Carter stood at the stove, but watched for my entrance. My face flushed at the sight of him, I could feel the color deepen with my embarrassment. How stupid. But I had no idea how a reunion would go between friends who were more often than not friendly.

  He focused back on his pan, taking the sizzling bacon out with a pair of tongs and setting it on a paper towel. “Keep stirring that pancake batter,” he said to Kotes. Then turning to me, he smiled—almost as if he didn’t have control of his body either. “Hey.”

  “Hey,” I said, moving over to him. I wrapped an arm around his waist and he draped his about my shoulders. “Good to see you.” I squeezed him about the middle and forced myself to let go.

  He kissed my cheek and returned to the stovetop. “We’re making breakfast.”

  “At 6 p.m.?”

  “Yep.” He added more bacon to his pan. Was he feeding the three of us or a band of men?

  “Mom! Carter brought me a present.”

  “You knew he would.”

  She ran from the room and came back with her hands behind her back. “It’s the prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.”

  “As long as it’s not another dog.”

  Carter’s lip twitched up into a grin and Keith yipped. Dakota brought her hands to the front, holding tight to a small snow globe, only instead of a snowy scene, it held a beach umbrella, palm trees, and a straw hut inside. The snow wasn’t snow, but sand, and the side of the stand read: Florida.

  I almost laughed, but couldn’t with Dakota’s sincerity.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” she said, shaking the globe so that the sand whirled about.

  “Wow, that’s really lovely.” I peeked at Carter who spooned pancake batter into his still hot pan.

  We ate and talked and things felt mostly normal. Carter told us about his trip and his parents and siblings. He’d seen them all. I’d never heard him talk about his family so much, though I knew he cared for them. I felt a twinge of guilt—we always talked about my family, my problems, my life.

  “Did you fill out any more applications?” He asked, once Dakota had left the table.

  “All of them.” I pressed my lips together. “But Carter, don’t get your hopes up.”

  “You can do this. You can leave him.”

  “Maybe.” And maybe I could. Maybe I had to tell Taggart that I didn’t need him and he didn’t deserve us for anything to change.

  I felt so many strange things swirling inside of me. I’d missed Carter more than I wanted to, and now that he sat in front of me, I stirred with joy, guilt, and desire—as well as a loss of control. What if he asked me to stay. I couldn’t stay, but I wanted to. How had a week of absence turned me into something so strange and vulnerable.

  I didn’t touch him again until Dakota fell asleep on the couch. We’d played the longest game of Aggravation known to man. I thought her marbles would never reach their home, even with Carter and I both trying to lose on purpose. Not long after, Carter put in an old DVD for her. But Pinocchio hadn’t kept her attention long and she fell asleep.

  “Dishes?” I said, feeling an antsy tingle in every limb of my body.

  He followed me into the kitchen and I turned on the water, filling the sink with warm suds. I stood there, watching the water run and the bubbles build, trying to figure out the strange emotions burning up inside me at seeing Carter again after a week. I almost didn’t know myself.

  His arms wrapped around my middle, bringing me out of my trance. I felt small and protected in his grasp, and I leaned into him. But I felt fragile, too, like I could break without him or because of him. The feeling made my skin itch as if it were covered in mosquitoes. I couldn’t feel that way. If I lost my strength, what did I have to offer?

  I pushed against him with my elbow—nothing harmful, but he let go and moved beside me, ready to dry what I washed.

  “Emma,” he said, right as I spoke too. I said Keith’s name, and he said mine and then we both went quiet. I bit my lip and Carter nodded at me. “Go ahead, what about Keith?”

  “I got a check from him yesterday.”

  “Wha—no way.”

  “Yeah,” I scrubbed the grease from the frying pan he’d used, but glanced over to meet his eyes. “Something you said, or maybe Mindy, I don’t know, but he sent me a check for a hundred dollars.”

  He made a sour face. I understood it—a hundred dollars wouldn’t go a long ways, but it would go farther than nothing. “That’s great,” he said despite the frown. “It’s a start for sure.”

  “Yeah.” Before we could stand too much awkward silence, I picked up the next dirty dish. “What were you gonna say?”

  He cricked his neck to the side, his eyes wandering everywhere but my face. “Well, um, I saw my parents and my siblings, like I told you, but ah, I saw Tess, too.”

  “Oh.” My heart stung like someone had put it in a meat grinder. I had no right to feel like that. Why did he make me feel like that? The hurt so quickly turned to anger. I reminded myself I had no right to be wounded—angry or otherwise. I breathed, scrubbed my dish and attempted the nonchalance I should feel. “How’d that go?”

  He rubbed both hands over his face. “I don’t know,” he spat.

  “Okay.” I rolled one shoulder, then the other. I didn’t know how I should feel—but why was he so annoyed? “Did she call you or did you call her?”

  “Both, I guess. She texted a couple weeks ago and I called her when I got into town.”<
br />
  “Oh.” Weeks—she’d texted weeks ago.

  “Oh?”

  I dropped the dish I held into the dishwater. “Yeah, oh. What do you want me to say?”

  “I don’t know. How do you feel about it?”

  I peered at him more intently while wanting desperately to look away. “I don’t have feelings about it,” I lied. “It’s none of my business.”

  He huffed out a not-so-humorous laugh and turned away from me.

  “I mean, her picture is still on your fridge, right?” I pointed to the side of his refrigerator where Tess’s picture had been covered by a Chinese take-out menu from Riverton. “I knew you had feelings for her. So, is this good for you?” What did this mean for me? For Dakota?

  Carter ripped Tess’s picture from the fridge and threw it onto the ground. “Is this good for me?” He ran both hands through his hair. “That’s it?”

  “What do you want me to say?”

  “You’re supposed to be upset, Emma. You’re like a professional at getting pissed off—until now.” He threw his drying rag onto the table and with wide eyes, he assessed me. “You’re supposed to be worried or sad or, heaven forbid, jealous.”

  Now he had pissed me off. I screwed up my face until I thought my stare could possibly murder him. “You want me to be jealous?”

  “I’d like you to care!” Sweat dripped from his forehead. “Do you care about anything?”

  “Of course I care about things. I care about Dakota.” I faced him, punching my ridiculous sorrows down where they couldn’t affect me. “We both knew this wasn’t real.” I pointed from him to myself.

  He snatched my hand by the wrist and smacked my flat palm to his chest. “I’m real, Emma.” His heart thumped against my hand and he held it there fast. “This is real. This heart,” he forced his mouth on mine and pressed a hard kiss to my lips, “that’s real.”

  His heart thumped wildly beneath my fingers. My eyes pricked with his words. “But it’s not like what you had with her,” I said, “or what you felt for her.”

  He didn’t say anything, but he dropped my hand, his breathing heavy.

  “She wants you back?”

  His eyes watered when he looked at me and then he gave a quick, curt nod.

  I shook my head. “Well, there you go. That’s real.” I would never admit to another soul how painful those words felt leaving my mouth. Each syllable pressed on my chest as if someone hit me with a hammer.

  He dropped his head and pinched the bridge of his nose.

  My throat choked up and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to speak. I pointed to the doorway. “Kotes,” I said successfully. “She has school tomorrow.” I hurried past him, into the living room, and scooped up my girl, too big for me to scoop, but adrenalin pumped through me. “We’ll get our things tomorrow.

  I buckled Kotes into the car and turned to a barefoot Carter standing next to my car door, his hair and shirt flowing in the wind. “Tell Taggart tomorrow,” he said. “Don’t let this go another day. Okay?” He was back to saving me. Saving me, but loving her.

  I nodded. I would. I needed to do this. I needed to tell that man he couldn’t stop my life from moving forward. I’d tell him and then we’d go. I would leave Taggart and Carter and we’d start fresh on our own.

  Chapter 36

  Emma

  “You okay, Emma?” Mr. Bear lay on my table, my last appointment of the day.

  “Yeah, Corbin, I’m okay.” I spread my fingers over his back, the routine and motion soothing my brokenness. “All done. I’ll step out while you change.”

  I left the room and stood with my back to the door. Jodi worked on a young girl, her mother sitting off to the side. Her eyes darted my way a few times, but she didn’t say anything. She combed through the girls hair, her attention split between us.

  The door, I leaned upon, opened and I fell backwards landing in a heap on the floor.

  “Emma!” Jodi yipped. She hurried over, her heels clicking on the tiled floor.

  Jodi and Mr. Bear stare down at me, their heads together. “Is she all right?” Jodi asked.

  “I don’t think so. She barely said a word the whole time we were in there.”

  “I’m not deaf,” I barked, feeling the ache in my back.

  Jodi held out a hand and Mr. Bear took hold of my opposite arm. Together, they pulled me to my feet.

  “I’m fine. Just tired.”

  “Carter’s back, right?” Jodi smeared her red lips together.

  I sighed. “I need to get home.” I knew Dakota would be at Virgie’s. I knew after last night, Carter wouldn’t come over tonight. We’d put ourselves in this strange, impossible situation and how did I ever think it would end well? How had I done this to my girl?

  I pulled up to the house. I may not have been surprised at the absence of Carter’s car, but the stupid pang of sting that burned my heart had come back.

  I knocked on Virgie’s door and handed her a six-pack. “You okay, sweets?” she asked.

  “I’m fine. Why does every stupid person keep asking me that?”

  “Well, Aiden’s not here and you’ve got a frown wider than the Eerie canal.”

  I sighed. “I didn’t want Carter to come over tonight. I need to talk to Taggart.” I made up an excuse quick. I did want to talk to Tag. Maybe Carter wouldn’t be in our lives like before. Tess had beckoned him back to her, but he’d been right all along. I needed to leave, and I needed to say the words to Taggart. I had to look that man in the eye and tell him he couldn’t rule us any longer. “Can Kotes stay an extra half hour.”

  “Sure, Stink can stay. She’s asking about Aiden though.”

  I threw my hands up. “Well tell her he’s busy. One crisis at a time, Virg. I can’t talk to her about that now.”

  “Crisis? Are you two in crisis?”

  “Later!” I growled. I stomped away and stopped in front of my own door. I flicked a gaze backward, making sure Virgie had closed hers. I could do this. I could do this. I narrowed my eyes. I would look him in the face and tell him—We’re leaving. He may not believe me, but then we’d pack our bags and never look back. He deserved to watch our backsides go. He deserved to be left. I’d show him. For my own sanity and for all that he’d done—or hadn’t done—I would show him. I’d get the last say. We were finished with him.

  And then I’d start praying my eyeballs out that the scholarships would come through.

  I sucked in a breath and channeled my one yoga lesson with Carter. With my hand on the door knob, I gave myself one last pep talk. “He isn’t allowed to tell me I’m nothing—not anymore. I twisted the handle and stepped into the dim house.

  Carter

  Smoke, making my mouth water, sizzled into the air. I used the frying pan Emma had washed to pan fry my T-bone steak—it annoyed me that even a pan had me thinking of her. I glanced at the clock, my watch, and then back to my steak, my insides like a derailed train. Normally, I’d be with Emma and Dakota right now. Normally, I’d be cooking for the two of them and that man that kept Emma from flying. Taggart. I wondered if she’d talked to him yet. Would she tell me how it went? Would she do it at all after last night?

  What had happened? How had that gone so wrong? I wanted her so badly to care. I stepped away from the sizzle on the stove, and picked up Dakota’s sand globe, giving it a shake. Sand swirled over the beach scene. I’d love to take Dakota to the beach. She’d never seen the ocean—but then, neither had Emma.

  A pounding on my door ended my dazed stare and foolish thoughts. Someone pounded on my door—as if they were about to raid my house. I turned the stove down to a simmer and crossed through the living room to pull open my front door.

  Emma stood on my doorstep, her face streaked with tears and her lip quivering.

  I pinched my brows and shook away my shock. “Em?”

  “Taggart is dead!” She stepped inside and wiped the wet from her cheeks and beneath her nose.

  “Dead?” I needed to step away from my
surprise so I could console her—see what she needed. But I stood in shock. Men like Taggart seemed to live forever. They’d drink away their livers and waste their lives and then take their time dying.

  “I’d planned to tell him I was done with him. I was done with him!” She stomped her foot and stabbed a finger toward the ground. “And that old ass had to go and die.”

  I sat with an arm around Emma, talking on the phone to Virgie and then Andy. Andy would get an ambulance and a coroner to the house to proclaim him gone and take the body away. Emma and I would pick up Dakota and tell her the news in a bit.

  When I set down the phone she drew her legs up and onto mine, her head on my chest, and cried more than I thought possible for Emma. She cried and moaned, her body convulsing as if in pain.

  “Why didn’t he love me, Carter?” Her tears soaked through my T-shirt to my chest. “He never loved me, not even when I was a helpless baby. How could he not have loved me then?”

  “Shh,” I crooned against her hair. I didn’t have an answer for that—it didn’t make sense why a father wouldn’t love his daughter. It didn’t make sense that he’d dismiss her so quickly. I held her close and let her sob, but smoke soon filtered in from my kitchen. “Shoot. I have something on the stove. I need to—”

  She moved away from me as if my support couldn’t be counted upon, as if she expected it to fail her, too. I hurried into the kitchen and pulled the smoldering pan from the stove before the smoke alarm could go off. Still, I opened the kitchen window and grabbed a rag, waving away the smolder rising in the air. Once the air had cleared, I tossed the ruined meat into the trash. My head pounded and Emma’s must have too—she’d been the one crying. I took a couple Advil, refilled my glass of water for Emma, and brought her a couple pills as well.

  She lay on her side on my couch, her head at the opposite end of where I’d sat. Her hair lay in strings over her face. Her chest shuddered with each breath and her eyelids lay closed.