Emily For Real (10 page)

I sit close to her and take her hand. “Hi, Meredith. It's Emily.”

“Emily.”

I can't tell if she knows who I am. Probably not. “When I was on the bus coming here, I was thinking about that time I stayed with you and Granddad and you were doing some housecleaning.”

“Oh?” she says, and sits up a bit straighter to listen.

“I was maybe four. I stood on the kitchen counter and wiped off the fronts of all your cupboard doors while you held onto my legs in case I lost my balance. Then you emptied out some other cupboards, ones lower down, and I crawled inside to clean them.”

I'm wondering if she's picturing what I'm picturing. “Afterwards we made cookies with candies for faces. You put one of your aprons on me, but it was way too big so you folded it up around my waist. I stood on a chair and you let me add sugar and stuff.”

“That was fun,” says Meredith, and I know she doesn't actually remember doing all that but she means it sounds like fun the way I'm telling it.

“Yeah,” I say.

Her hand is cool against mine, and the rings on her fingers are loose. Tiny bluish veins run like miniature rivers under her pale skin. This is the hand of a person who's known me my entire life. I like how this makes me feel.

She looks down at our hands together and then she looks back up. There's a quiet peacefulness in her eyes, like she's calmly waiting for me to continue. So I tell her about when we went shopping and it was maybe my first time on a bus, and about eating at a food court and how she let me have onion rings. And then I tell her about the Christmas we all had to go to her and Granddad's because the power went off at our place. Mom packed up everything—the half-cooked turkey and all the vegetables peeled and ready for pots. And the mince pies. It was like going on a camping trip. Aunt Em came too, of course. Then all of us stayed overnight, including Aunt Em, even though the power wasn't off at her place.

“That was one of the best Christmases!” I say.

She has a nice big smile, which makes me feel really, really good.

One of the personal care workers comes in. “They're going to sing Christmas carols down in the lounge,” she says. “You should take your grandmother. It's the elementary school choir.” She goes over and gently wakes Rose to tell her about the Christmas carols.

“Let's go see the elementary school choir!” I say with exaggerated enthusiasm. “This'll put us in the Christmas mood. Only a few weeks to Christmas, you know.”

Meredith's not so steady on her feet as I help her up, so I hang onto her arm and reach for her walker.

“That's it. You're doing good,” says the care worker. I'm not sure if she's talking to Rose or Meredith or me.

We get to the lounge, where the elementary school choir is starting to line up and their teacher is testing out a few notes on the piano. All the children are wearing white shirts or blouses, and red and green ribbon ties. One boy is wearing one of those antler headbands. Cute.

I find two chairs near the front and help Meredith settle into one of them. Someone is passing around booklets of the Christmas carols, and I say we'll share one. The man next to me is holding his upside down. A few people have already fallen asleep in their wheelchairs. The care workers are standing close by.
Like shepherds keeping watch by night.

The children begin to sing and Meredith studies the whole scene, tapping her hand against her leg. After the first song, they tell us all to join in. “Away in a Manger.” Everyone knows that. I hold the page up for Meredith but she just watches the children. I sing along, listening to those tiny kid voices mixed in with the frail, whispery old voices. Meredith bows her head when everyone sings, “
The little Lord Jesus…
”

On my way home on the bus, I think about Meredith. How she was asleep when I got there and how she listened so carefully when I talked about cleaning cupboards and making cookies with faces and eating onion rings at a food court and having family Christmas sleepovers. I'm glad I was there to sit with her while everyone sang carols.

“You're late getting home from school,” says Dad, letting the newspaper crinkle down to the floor beside his chair.

“Actually,” I say, “I went to see Meredith.”

“Oh? Any special reason?”

“Just felt like it, I guess. I yakked away about all kinds of stuff we used to do when I was little.”

Dad's face gets all dreamy, like he's pushing away the recently revealed history of our family and trying to remember some of those fun times too. “She'd like that, in her own way.”

“And then we went to hear a kids' choir sing Christmas carols. Seems a bit early for carols, though.”

“Old people don't care if it's early or late,” says Dad. “They'd still enjoy the familiar songs and the memories.”

“Remember that Christmas the power went out?”

Mom hears me as she comes into the living room. “I sure do. At least we had somewhere to go and cook our Christmas dinner.”

“And we all stayed the night,” says Dad. “I don't think the power came back on over here till the next morning.”

“Oh, the lumps in that old hide-a-bed,” says Mom.

“You made French toast for breakfast, Dad. I remember that. And Aunt Em went next door to get maple syrup because Granddad and Meredith didn't have any. Then you and Granddad came back here to check on stuff, but me and Mom stayed with Meredith.”

“We did?”

“Just till the furnace got going.”

“Oh, yes. I remember now.”

We're picturing that Christmas like it happened yesterday, which puts us all in the same kind of easygoing mood.

As I'm setting the table for dinner, I decide I'll go see Meredith every once in a while and tell her about some happy times I remember that she doesn't remember anymore.

Ten

Before Leo even says anything, I know something's wrong.

Everyone's pushing past us in the hall. He steps closer to the wall and I do too.

“Mom flunked rehab.” He tries to smile, but it fades fast. “She signed herself out, then went to a motel and drank herself stupid. Now they won't let her back in rehab. At least, not the same place.”

“What'll she do?”

“Who knows?” He looks over his shoulder at people passing by, but I know he's not really paying attention to what he's seeing. “She's back home.”

That explains why he wasn't on the bus this morning. Same old scenario.

So I say, “Does Caroline know?”

“Not yet. I'm going to Jane's tomorrow to stay for the weekend. If Mom's sober, she'll come with me.”

I'm not ready for how his eyes look. “I'm sorry, Leo.”

We just stand there.

“I'm really sorry.”

“I know,” he says.

I don't realize what I'm doing until I touch his hand and then I hold his fingers. They're large and rough and cold. I can feel the cold of his fingers seeping into my hand.

It was scary hitchhiking without Leo. But ever since I woke up this morning, I've been thinking about him. About having a chance to talk and find out if things are working out okay. So I hitchhiked to North West Cove.

Jane answers the door and she's surprised to see me. “Emily! Come in! How'd you get here?”

I hold up my thumb and smile.

“Don't tell me you hitchhiked! All by yourself? Emily, that's so dangerous!”

“It was okay.”

She closes the door and we go into the kitchen. “Leo. Emily's here.”

I can't tell what he's thinking. Boy, does he look tired.

“You hitchhike?”

“Yeah.”

“Take long?”

“Not really. Got a ride to exit five then another one almost right away to exit six. Took a while to get down here, though.”

“A very dangerous thing,” says Jane. “She's picking up your bad habits, Leo.”

“My bad habits? I never hitchhike alone.” Now he's almost smiling. “I always have a female with me.”

“Oh, you!” she says and smacks him on the arm. “Make your guest some cocoa to warm her up.” Before she leaves the kitchen, she turns and says, “You won't be hitchhiking home. When Dan gets back with Caroline, he'll drive you.”

No one's mentioned Leo's mother.

Leo makes cocoa and I want to ask a ton of questions, but I don't.

He puts the mugs on the kitchen table and we sit down. “Looks like I'm changing schools again,” he says.

This just about knocks me over. “How come?”

“It's a long story.”

“Meaning it's none of my business.”

He takes a deep breath. “Mom's going to another rehab. In Toronto. We can't keep the apartment.”

“So you'll live here?”

“For a while.”

“Mom leaves tomorrow morning. After that, I'll head back to the city and start packing things up.”

“Is your mother home now?”

“Yeah. A friend of hers is with her to make sure she stays sober.”

“Maybe it'll be different this time,” I say.

His face changes. It's harder. Colder. “No, it won't. It'll be just like the last time and all the other times before that. It's fucking hopeless!”

“Leo.” Jane is standing in the doorway.

He looks at her, gets up, grabs his jacket, and leaves. He doesn't slam the door.

“I'm sorry, Emily. Leo's so—”

“I know.”

“You came all this way.”

“It's okay.”

“Did he tell you about moving here?”

“Yeah. At least he'll be with Caroline.”

Jane smiles but not in a happy way.

“Maybe I'll go find him,” I say. “He's probably not far.”

“Don't you hitchhike back to the city, Emily. Please.”

“I won't. I promise.”

I can see Leo standing by himself down on the wharf. He's not going to like me coming after him like this. Maybe I should just head for the highway and break my promise to Jane. But I have a plan and I want to do it before I think about it too much, so I keep on walking.

“Here.”

He ignores me.

“Take this, Leo.”

He still ignores me but I know he sees the rock in my hand. His anger rock. It's been in my pocket ever since he gave it to me. I'm not leaving. I can be just as stubborn as him. I'll stand here holding this rock till my hand freezes off.

Finally he says, “What's that for?” He still doesn't look at me.

“I want you to take it and throw it out in the water as far as you can.”

“What'll that prove?”

“That you don't have to be angry.”

For a couple of seconds he doesn't move, but then he slowly takes the rock from my hand and holds it in his fist.

I look out past the end of the wharf, past the old rowboat that's tied there, and past the waves rolling in. I wait for the rock to fly up in the air and then disappear with a splash. But nothing happens.

I turn around in time to see Leo walk away.

“I'm only trying to help!”

He keeps walking.

I look around for his anger rock but I can't find it.

A car comes down the hill and stops beside Leo for a second. Then it keeps coming out to the wharf. It's Dan. I recognize him from that picture with Jane.

“Hi,” I say. “Sorry to make you drive all the way to the city.”

“No problem. Good chance to pick up a few things we can't get out here in the boonies. Jane gave me a list,” he says with a grin.

I like how he doesn't ask about why Leo was walking up the hill while I was still back on the wharf. And he doesn't bring up the topic of Leo's mother or the Toronto rehab. After we gab for a few minutes about how cold it is, we mostly listen to the radio and don't say much.

My cell beeps and I take it out of my pocket. It's a text from Jenn about a party at her place tonight. I'm totally not expecting this.

“Always connected,” says Dan. “Not that that's a bad thing, I suppose. But I'm sure glad my folks couldn't track me down when I was a teenager.” He looks over at me and laughs. “That would've been a disaster.”

“It's about a party tonight at my friend's.” I think about saying former friend, but I don't. Too complicated.

“Oh, that's different. A party. Good to know about a party.”

We go back to listening to music on the radio. I'm thinking about Jenn's message, and then it hits me. She likely just texted everyone on her friends list. Even former friends she hasn't deleted from her list yet.

And, for some weird reason, I decide I'll go to Jenn's party.

The place is packed, and for a while I don't even see Jenn. Everyone's here.

Ever since I got Jenn's text, I've been picturing Brian at this party. He's on her list too, or at least he used to be. I'm not saying I'm not nervous about seeing him because I am. And by now he must have the Xmas card. That doesn't bother me, though. I meant every sarcastic sentiment.

I put my jacket on top of the pile of coats and jackets on the floor of Jenn's Mom's “study,” as she calls it. I walk past the living room where music's blasting and everyone's dancing. I go into the crowded kitchen and see Jenn and Ronny shaking chips into a large bowl and spooning salsa into a smaller bowl. They look like they're having fun. He's putting a salsa-smeared chip into her mouth when she finally sees me.

“M-mily!” she says through the mouthful.

No way was she expecting to see me here.

She chews and swallows in an exaggerated way, trying not to laugh because now Ronny's mocking her by making his cheeks puff out like a chipmunk's.

It starts to feel like it used to be with me and Jenn, laughing our heads off in this kitchen about something really lame. Well, not exactly like it used to be, with all these people here. But anyway, I relax a little. So far, no Brian.

“You by yourself?”

“Yeah.” I get that she means
by yourself
as in
without Leo
, but I avoid that topic. “Great party! Everyone's here.”

Ronny takes the bowls of chips and salsa into the living room.

Then Jenn says, “Did you see Brian? He's here somewhere.”

My stomach turns upside down and I feel panic crawl up into my throat. I can't believe this. My face feels blood red.

“Emily! You're blushing!”

So now, practically everyone in this kitchen is checking out that I'm blushing and, surprise, I blush even more.

“Come on, Emily. This is crazy. Let's go find Brian. It's not like you can't talk to the guy. Who knows, maybe he's changed his mind and—”

“Jenn!” I say, and it comes out sounding like I'm shouting at a little kid who's about to put a finger in a light socket. I calm my voice down and hope only she can hear me. “Brian has not changed his mind.” I say this very carefully. “But I have.”

Ronny comes back to the kitchen, grabs Jenn's hand, and takes her to the living room to dance. She looks over her shoulder in a kind of puzzled way for a split second, then turns and bounces along after Ronnie in time to the music. It makes me smile.

I get my coat from off the pile and head out the front door without looking back. As I walk along the street, I start singing the song that's blasting out from the house. It makes me think of what Leo said that night we were practicing for our project that didn't happen. He was right. If I don't get all self-conscious thinking about my voice, it doesn't sound too bad.

I sleep in way late so no one's home when I finally get up. Mom and Dad are visiting Meredith as usual because it's Sunday morning.

I'm making toast when the back door opens and Aunt Em comes in.

“Hi.” I take the jam out of the fridge. “Mom and Dad are visiting Meredith.”

“Yes,” she says. “I just saw them. They arrived as I was leaving.” She's smiling, but it's an odd smile. Sort of heavy.

“Is everything okay?”

“I need you to know something, Emily. Come and sit down.”

We sit at the table and she picks up my hand. I think of holding Meredith's hand.

A small, panicky feeling starts creeping in.

“When Dana and Myra were here, I told you that your mom lost her baby. How he was stillborn.”

Her eyes are so serious I can't look away.

“When our mother died, Gerry and I were much too young to grasp what was happening. But the death of his child…I had never seen Gerry so devastated. And then the doctors told Winnie she should never risk another pregnancy.”

“But—”

“I decided I would have a baby for them.”

“What?”

“When you were only minutes old, Winnie held you and Gerry gave you your name.”

“What are you talking about?” I pull my hand away and stand up. “This is stupid!”

“It isn't stupid,” she says quietly. “It's the truth.” She stands up and puts her hand on my arm.

“Don't touch me!”

“Emily.”

“If you're supposed to be my mother, then who's supposed to be my father?” I'm almost not breathing.

She looks right into my eyes but she doesn't answer.

I feel like I'm falling off a cliff.

“I went to a clinic.”

I can't stand how afraid I feel right now. I can't move.

“Look at me, Emily.”

I can't.

“Please.”

My heart's pounding and pounding and my stomach's squeezed tight.

“Look at me. I need to know you're okay.”

“I'm not okay!” I'm screaming but I can't help it. “How can I be okay? Mom's not Mom? You're not Aunt Em? And Dad's not my real father? This is crazy!” I can hardly think.

“You need to know the truth.”

“Well I don't care about the truth!”

I run upstairs and she doesn't follow me. I'm taking deep, deep breaths and forcing myself not to cry. If I cry I'll go insane.

Nothing she said makes sense. Nothing. Maybe it's a lie. Is she crazy? Maybe she's crazy.

I try to calm myself and wait for Mom and Dad to get home. If something's wrong with Aunt Em, they'll help. Something must be wrong.