Imperfectly Perfect (8 page)

"Hey Killah!"

I couldn't even speak. I felt the tears streaming down my face, while I choked on the words I wanted to say.

"Em, you okay?" he questioned.

I could hear the concern and desperation in his voice, but I just couldn't bring myself to answer him.

"Alright, I'll sit right here and when you're ready I'll listen," he spoke softly.

Knowing how much he cared about me did nothing for my strong act and I began sobbing uncontrollably.

I sat on the edge of my bed listening to her breathe. It wasn't the first time she had cried herself to sleep talking to me; in fact it was more common than you may have expected given her tough exterior. But there was something different this time, because I don't think I had ever heard Emma cry like that before. As long as I had known her she had always been able to pull herself together before going off the deep end. Even when she was in high school and that douche Trent cheated on her, she had been able to somewhat hold it together.

I blamed myself, and hated that I hadn't gone home with her like we had originally planned. I was the only thing that kept her sane around her crazy family and she obviously needed me there. Yet, I had backed out about a month ago when Emma found out her sister had suddenly become good friends with my ex-girlfriend, Christy. Emma casually mentioned that Liz had invited Christy to the party and I immediately began to think of excuses not to go. Christy and I had history and it wasn't necessarily something I wanted to revisit.

In the end I lied and told Emma I was going to have to work in the office over the weekend. She didn't press and accepted my pathetic attempt at saving face. I felt like a lousy friend, and there in that moment I knew I should have been there with her. I should be there next to her, probably in that old tree house, on that nasty quilt. I should be there to hold her and let her cry on my shoulder. Even though I had no idea what was going on I just wanted to make everything better.

I pressed the phone to my ear with my shoulder, stood up and walked across the room. On the top of my dresser sat a collage picture frame that Em had made for me when we graduated from NYU. There were a few pictures of the four of us; one from Halloween, where we dressed up as the Teletubbies and another taken after a soccer game. I picked it up and wiped the dust off the edges. I studied my favorite picture, taken at our high school graduation. Laughing to myself, I remembered how we had posed for a million photos afterwards, when all we really wanted to do was party. Finally, I had had enough and picked her up like a baby, lugging her off to my car. My mother had captured the moment with her camera perfectly; Emma with her head tossed back and her face lit up with laughter. I felt a smile spread across my face. And that was when it hit me, square in the chest. I leaned back against the wall in an attempt to keep myself steady. Holy shit, I couldn't believe it; I loved her.

I mean I really
loved
her.

I was trying to gather my thoughts when I heard the rustling on the other end. This revelation was definitely going to make things interesting. I cleared my throat to remind her that I was still on the other line.

I listened as she spewed on about her sister having a baby, and how it has made her realize that she isn't as happy as she thought and that she wants more from life than just a good party. When she finished I sat silently, not knowing what to say. I couldn't help but feel that the stars had aligned and that this was meant to happen but first I needed some time to process. Emma and I had been friends through everything and I needed to be sure of my feelings before I went messing with a good thing.

"Shane, you still there?"

"Uh-huh" It was time to pull myself together.

"You don't have anything to say? I've rendered you speechless?"

"I'm sorry you feel that your life is pathetic." I easily fell back into my best friend role. "But I think you've got a pretty good thing going for you. You've got a great life here, a good job, and awesome friends that care about you. Do you really care what anyone else thinks or expects out of you? Because you never have before Em, so why now?"

"I don't know. Maybe because I'm pushing thirty? Maybe because I'm realizing that those are things that I do want...Christ! My life is great, but maybe I want a perfect life."

I wanted to tell her she could have those things with me, and that it would be perfect. But I decided that may be a little too forward and I should probably wait and go with a more subtle approach.

"So? You've never been one to not get what you want. If you want the house, the husband and the kids you know it's not too late. But you've
got
to cut the pity party crap. For one it's not your style, and secondly it's really annoying."

She giggled and I couldn't help but laugh with her. Her laughter had always been infectious.

"See, that is so much better Em. Now hang up and go have fun at that party. Don't forget to go visit my Mum tomorrow and I'll see you on Sunday when you get back."

"Ok."

"Ok. Later."

"Shane..."

"Yeah?"

"Thanks."

"No problem. Anytime."

"I know...and Shane?"

"Yeah?"

"Goal."

"You too Em, more than you know."

I heard her sigh. "I suppose I should get back to the party now, but I'll call you later."

"Sure thing."

I hung up and wandered down into the living room where Tyler and Rob were perched, watching the sports channel. I'm not really sure what was on and it didn't really matter. I plopped myself onto the floor in front of our futon.

Obviously my feelings were written all over my face. Rob glanced over at me with a concerned look on his face. "You alright there slugger?"

I put my hand to my forehead and rubbed in an effort to kick-start my brain. Was I really sure that I was in love with Emma? Was it worth risking everything we had? I needed to at least tell Rob and Tyler what I was feeling, and then maybe they could help work me through it. I moved my hand from my forehead to my neck. I kept opening and closing my mouth, unsuccessfully trying to find the right words.

Tyler seemed to sense my frustration, and decided to change the subject. "Have you talked to Emma lately?"

Nice try Ty.

I subtly nodded my head and sighed. "Yeah actually, I just hung up with her."

"And. . ?" Rob pried.

I decided to sleep on it before I broached the subject with the guys.

"She's going through some pretty heavy stuff right now and she needed to talk things through with me."

"So what the hell is your problem?" Rob questioned as Tyler intently followed our back and forth.

"I dunno dude."

"You look like you've seen a ghost."

I sighed as I exhaled, "Might as well have."

"Talking to Em..." I shook my head in an attempt to regain control of my thoughts.

"You've just realized something haven't you?"

My breath hitched at Rob's question. He was piecing things together quickly. One of the things that made him such a good lawyer was his ability to read between the lines.

"I-I think so..." I muttered.

Rob stood up and threw his hands in the air, "Fuck!"

Guess I was busted. At least I wasn't going to have to say the words out loud.

"Am I missing something here?" Tyler asked, turning the television off.

"Tyler, you moron," Rob muttered, pacing the living room. "Shaney boy here has
finally
figured out that he loves Emma."

Tyler rolled his eyes, obviously still not on the same page. "Well yeah, she
is
our best friend." Once the words left his mouth his eyes shot to me, then to Rob, and then back to me again. I watched his face transform from confusion to knowing in an instant. "Oh shit."

I threw my head back onto the futon. "My sentiments exactly. This is
really
bad guys."

Rob walked to the kitchen and grabbed three bottles of beer handing each of us one. "I've been waiting for this to happen."

Tyler took a tentative swig from his bottle. "You have?"

Rob seemed to be enjoying his so-called premonition, "Of course. Emma is just too awesome for none of us to fall for her. I'm just glad it wasn't me."

Tyler nodded, seemingly understanding where Rob was coming from. He turned to me and placed his hand on my shoulder, "What are you going to do?"

"I don't know," I managed to mutter, "but I'm open to suggestions?"

I woke up in my twin bed with my hair stuck to my face. I attempted to stretch my muscles that were tight from sleeping in such a contorted way, but I was only greeted with Charlie horses. My mouth was sour and dry, and my head was pounding. Obviously my pity party had equated to a massive hangover. I wanted nothing more than to stay in my bed and sleep the day away, but I had a promise to keep.

I carefully got out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. Turning the shower on, I felt disgusting and pathetic. I stepped into the steamy water and lathered and scrubbed until my skin was red, yet when I was done I could still smell the Champagne seeping from my pores. I was running late so I sprayed myself with some perfume and called it good.

I headed down to the kitchen looking to grab some fruit to eat in the car. Dad was already up sitting at the island reading the weekend paper.

"Where are you headed this morning?" He asked, his eyes never diverting from the article he was reading.

"Off for my visit with Ms. Strout," I said grabbing a banana from the counter.

"Ah, send her our best."

Even though he said to send 'our best', I knew it was really just his best. Mother did not care for Ms. Strout; she never had and probably never will. I think it was a class thing for her, and it absolutely disgusted me.

"Will do Daddy," I kissed his forehead and was out the door.

Normally I would have walked or ran the five miles, but since I was late (and hung-over) I decided to drive. A mere five minutes later I was pulling up to Shane's childhood home.

Unlike my family home and all its grand perfection, this house was a modest, but cute two-bedroom ranch in the center of town. There were four other houses with similar floor plans next door. It had initially started out as a subdivision, but was never completed. The house sat unfinished for years until they put it on the market as it was. Ms. Strout scooped it up for a bargain, and finished it on her own while Shane was still a baby.

Shane's father had never been around. When his mother had told him she was pregnant he beat feet out of state, never to be heard from again. My Dad had told me once, a few years back, that Shane's father had been a womanizer. Everyone in town knew that he was trouble. But poor Ms. Strout fell for his charms and ended up pregnant out of wedlock. So it had always been just her and Shane.

She was a schoolteacher and money was tight. She had to be one of the most hard working and caring women I knew. She worked three jobs in order to be able to send Shane to NYU and help him through law school. He loved her more than anything in the world and now that he was on his own two feet he made sure she was taken care of. While she didn't always accept his help, he ensured that she never had to go without.

Being the good son that he is, Shane obviously worries about her. He tries to visit a couple of times a year but he still felt like it wasn't often enough. So anytime Tyler or I make a trip home we make sure to visit Ms. Strout. It was really a win/win; she enjoys the company and Shane is able to check in on her without being too intrusive.

Before I was even able to knock, she opened the door.

"Shane said you would be stopping by this morning," she said, hugging me.

She had obviously been waiting for me and I felt guilty. Shane would have a fit when he found out.

"Sorry I'm late," I murmured, "the party didn't get over until real late last night"

"Oh, that's understandable," she grabbed my hand. "Please come in."

I stepped into the house and admired its sameness. In all the years I had known Shane, his house had never changed. Ms. Strout was busy with work, and it just wasn't something that was important to her. In my house on the other hand, decorating was a yearly occurrence.