Indelible Love - Emily's Story (13 page)

“Your mom was stunning!”

“I know, isn’t she beautiful? When I
was younger, I used to hate it when people told me how pretty she
was. Unfortunately, I didn’t appreciate her till I got older.” So
many years I’d wasted thinking of her as competition rather than a
companion.

“Why would you hate someone telling
you your mom was beautiful?”

“Because I was jealous. No one ever
said anything remotely complimentary about me. The comment I got
repeatedly was, ‘I hope you grow up to look just like your mom.’ It
bugged me. Plus, my mom had such a vibrant personality, and I was
so shy. She was always the life of the party, and I was the
wallflower in the corner.”

“Love, girls don’t come much prettier
than you…even your mom.” Jake did his best to reassure me but I
wasn’t convinced.

“You wouldn’t be saying that if you’d
seen my mom in person.”

“I’d say it regardless. So how’d your
dad get so lucky?”

I laughed, thinking about my parents
telling me this story back in middle school. Jake was in for a
great story. “My dad told me when Mom got to college she was the
talk of her Texas campus. Every guy wanted to date her. She was in
some sorority and every frat and non-frat guy had visited her house
to ask her out.”

“So did your parents meet at a frat
party?”

“No, my dad was the antithesis of my
mom. He was awkward and extremely shy. He was a senior when Mom was
a freshman, and they became friends only because she needed help in
calculus, and he was her school-appointed tutor. He tutored Mom her
entire freshman year.”

I kept looking through the photo
album. It had been months since I’d visited my parents or really
thought about them. Jake had consumed my mind and heart. I felt
guilty that I had forgotten what they looked like back in college.
My last memory of each of them was their peaceful faces lying in
their caskets.

“She was really beautiful, huh?”
Wistfully, I touched her face in the picture. What I would do to be
able to touch their faces or hold their hands one more
time.

“So my mom was dating some hotshot guy
on campus but spending loads of time with my dad, because her math
skills were so pathetic, and they developed a friendship during
these tutorial sessions. My dad was probably one of the very few
men who was more attracted to my mom’s heart than her face. Do you
know what he told me he loved most about her?”

“What did he love most about her?”
Jake was as into this story as I was into telling it.

“Dad said that Mom was the most caring
and attentive person he’d ever met. Every time they were together,
she’d bring him a little something to thank him for working with
her. She’d bring him lunch if it was lunchtime, or a piece of
chocolate she knew he liked, or buy him poetry books. My dad was a
bit of a poet. He devoured the attention. Oh my gosh…” I’d just had
an epiphany.

“What?”

“I’m dating my mother. You remind me
exactly of my mom. You’re both attentive and outgoing and
exceedingly sure of yourselves. Oh gosh…” I said one more
time.

“What?” he asked again.

“Max was the epitome of my dad—shy,
reserved, and gentle. How sad. I miss my parents so badly, I need
to date people who remind me of them.”

I had to laugh at myself. The four
years I’d loved Max, never once did I think he reminded me of Dad.
But tonight, as I told this story, it was very clear both Max and
Jake substituted for my lost loves.

“So all this time, my dad loved my
mother, but didn’t do anything about it.”

“Was your mom into your dad
also?”

“I asked that same question and they
both said no. She was dating someone else, but she said she always
thought of my dad as a dear friend.”

“So how did they get together if she
was dating someone else?”

“When school ended, Mom was driving
home to LA, and about an hour away from school, she got a flat
tire. She said the first and only person she thought to call was
not her boyfriend, but my dad. She knew then he was the man she
loved and trusted to take care of her. Of course my dad came to her
immediately upon receiving the call.”

“And that’s how they got
together?”

“Kind of…remember how I told you my
dad was terribly shy?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Well, Mom knew he liked her, but
wouldn’t admit it unless something extreme happened. So when he got
to my mom, she ran to him and hugged him as if he had rescued her
from death.” I proceeded to laugh really hard. Jake patiently
waited for me to continue the story. “She embraced him dearly and
started confessing her feelings. My dad, being in a state of shock,
didn’t say a word, but tried to pry her body off him.”

Jake had a bit of a why look on his
face so I explained, “You know, they were in the middle of the 10
freeway and cars were honking everywhere.”

“Did she let go of him?”

“Nope. My mom told me she held onto
him till he was forced to confess his feelings for her. You want to
know what else she forced him to do?”

He nodded yes.

“He was about to go off to grad
school, and she didn’t want to be separated from him, so she got
him to propose to her and tied him down all within the same hug.
Isn’t that insane?”

“Lucky guy! Could something like that
happen with you?”

“I doubt it. I’m not brave like my
mom. She always knew what she wanted and she went after it till it
was hers. Strong and secure would be the two words that epitomized
her personality. She rarely wavered. I, on the other hand, take too
much after my dad. I’m introverted and insecure. Even if I wanted
something, I probably wouldn’t outright tell anyone. It can be a
bit of a guessing game with me.”

“So when did your parents get
married?”

“They got married that summer. Mom
transferred schools and finished undergrad while she was married to
my dad.”

“You mean she got married when she was
eighteen?”

“Just about…I think she turned
nineteen just before her wedding day. Here are their wedding
photos.”

Mom looked radiant in her wedding
dress. She looked so happy. I wished she could’ve stayed this happy
even after Dad’s death. It would have helped me during my difficult
days after Dad left us.

“That’s a great story. So when were
you born?”

“The day after my mom graduated from
college. She was a balloon at her graduation. Look at her.” I
touched my mom’s picture again. She looked even more
beautiful.

“When I was young, I was painfully
shy, just like my dad. My mom thought she could turn me into a
mini-me but failed miserably. She couldn’t understand why I didn’t
want people other than my family giving me any attention or why I
couldn’t speak my mind. The only person who really understood me
was my dad. He knew exactly how I felt, because he felt the same
way.”

“But you’re not shy now, although I
suppose you get embarrassed easily.”

“That only happened after my dad died.
My dad and I were really close. When I was younger, I preferred my
dad over my mom. Because I was unusually small for my age, Dad
carried me around like a little child till I was seven. He
understood my need to be alone and my fear of unwanted attention.
He showered me with love and affection and protected me from all my
fears.”

The tears finally appeared. They had
been brewing, but for Jake’s sake, I held off as long as I could.
My story started off so happy, I didn’t want it to end on a sad
note.

“Then he died when I was in eighth
grade, and his death devastated me. My mom and I had both lost the
love of our lives and our best friend. This was also when I started
to finally grow and develop physically. I was a mess in every way
when I got to my grandparents’ home in LA.”

I held back my tears the best I could
in order to finish my story.

“When we got to LA, my mom went
through bouts of depression, and it terrified me. I forced myself
to come out of my shell and tried to be everything my mom wanted me
to be—cheerful, lively, and strong. She did her best to stay
content and this was when she and I bonded. Even with my
grandparents around, we felt like we only had each other. Rather
than spending time with friends after school, I spent all my time
with my mom. She told me everything she could about Dad up to when
my memory clicked and I shared about all my days with Dad when it
was just the two of us. She had become my love and my new best
friend. Then she died the end of my junior year, a few days before
my birthday.”

At this point, I couldn’t hold back.
Jake held me and let me cry. My body shook as I sobbed
uncontrollably thinking about both Mom and Dad. No matter how
wonderful Jake was or how much he loved me, or how much I loved
him, he could never replace the love my parents gave me while they
were alive. I regretted not having appreciated this love and not
having spent more time with Mom.

“A year later, Max came into my life
and soon became my best friend, my love, and my only family. Four
years later, I lost him too. My heart’s been severely broken three
times. I don’t think I can stand another heartbreak. That’s why I’m
so cautious with us. I’m sorry I frustrate you, but do you think
you can be even more understanding of me than you’ve already been
and allow me to move at my own pace? I know I’m being unfair to
you, but this is the only way I can be in a relationship right
now.”

His eyes bore a tender and heartbroken
expression.

“Emily, I love you regardless of how
fast or slow our relationship has progressed. I am happy to do what
you’ve asked if you will promise to do one thing for
me.”

I looked up at him, wondering what
that one thing would be.

“Promise me you will stop looking at
me as the one who will break your heart, but try to accept me as
your new best friend, your eternal love, and the one who wants to
create a family with you. That’s what I want to be for
you.”

In my mind, it wasn’t entirely
possible to believe what he’d just confessed, though in my heart I
desperately wanted to believe him. Nevertheless, I nodded my head
and agreed.

“By, the way,” he added, “when’s your
birthday?”

I guess we had never asked each other
this very important question.

“May 20th,” I answered.

“No way!” he said in amazement. “My
birthday is May 19th. We have almost the same birthday. We’ll
celebrate our birthdays together and for two full days,
OK?”

I nodded my head once
again.

Sunday was a precursor to our Hawaii
trip. Jake went in early to check on his patients and came over by
7:00. He woke me up, as usual, and milled around the house while I
showered and got ready.

“How do you function on so little
sleep?” I asked while putting on makeup.

“I’ve never needed much sleep. Three
or four hours a day is sufficient.” He sat on my bed flipping
channels, waiting for me.

“I need at least eight hours, and I
feel like I’ve been on your schedule this entire week. Good thing
I’m on vacation. I’ve taken a nap almost every day this week. It’s
pathetic!” I said laughing.

Jake walked over and hugged me from
behind. “What do you want to do today? I feel like I’m starting my
vacation early. Whatever you want, we’ll do.”

“Anything?” I asked.

“Anything,” he answered. “Speaking of,
I have a question for you. What are some things you’ve always
wanted to do?”

“What do you mean?” I was a bit unsure
of this open-ended question.

“You know, like if money were no
object or in your wildest dreams, you’d like to…”

“You mean like a bucket list? Aren’t I
a little young for a bucket list?”

“Emily Logan, your list,” Jake
commanded.

“OK.” I thought about it for a minute
and came up with a short list.

#1—I want to hear Andrea Bocelli sing
in some outdoor stadium in the hills of Tuscany.

#2—I want to take a series of cooking
classes in Italy, France, or Japan.

#3—I want to climb all the steps of
Machu Picchu

#4—I want to eat a
formal
Kaiseki
meal in Japan

#5—I also want to go on a dining spree
in Spain

#6—I want to live in New York City for
a while

#7—I want to spend a few nights in a
hut in the middle of some island—like the ones you see in travel
magazines.

#8—I want to learn to ballroom
dance.

#9—I want to go on one of
those trips with that chef from the
No
Reservation
s TV show

#10—I also want to be a
judge on
Iron Chef

“That’s about all I can
think of off the top of my head. Of course, you covered a few of
them already with our gastronomic feast in Napa and Carmen.
Although, if I had a choice, I’d see
Carmen
performed in Paris. And
speaking of Paris, #11—I want to picnic at the Tuileries Garden
with someone I’m madly in love with. That’s all,” I finished with a
satisfied smile.