Playing Knotty (24 page)

Chapter 28

I
an didn't call
for the rest of the week. Emma hadn't expected him to, not really, but she couldn't help the jolt of emotion whenever her phone rang. Each time it was someone else, she relaxed, but then it would ring again and she'd tense up all over again. By the time Friday afternoon rolled around, she was a jumpy mess. Worse, she felt irritated that she was so jumpy. Her behavior was ridiculous; she knew she was being ridiculous. Ian wasn't going to call. Last weekend had been some kind of fluke that he clearly regretted, and neither of them was going to bring it up, so she had to let it go. They could have a perfectly fun friendship with some hot sex on the side, and that was obviously all he wanted.
I'd do the same for any of my friends,
he'd said. Maybe that applied to fucking, too.

The store had been quiet that day, the warm weather keeping people outdoors, so she hadn't been able to keep busy with work. Shipments had been unpacked, all returns for the month were finished ahead of schedule, the back room was organized, the cash wrap cleaned, the endcaps merchandised effectively. With nothing to do and no customers to help, she tried reading, but everything reminded her of Ian.

Alina texted around three, causing another adrenaline spike because it wasn't Ian.
Lunch tomorrow? Noon at Le Billig?

Emma knew the restaurant, famous for its crepes and exorbitant prices. She was off this Saturday and had no real reason to say no. She opened up a reply window, and with her thumbs above the screen, she paused, a wave of realization washing over her. This was so ridiculous. She thought about what Ian had said the week before when they were driving home, about how she should just take the first step, and maybe they'd surprise her.

She took a deep breath.
Money's too tight, can't afford it. How about Tony's subs?

She'd picked the cheapest sub place in town, delicious but affordable, more commonly frequented by college students than professionals. If Alina wanted to make up an excuse or say no, the ball was in her court.

The response came quickly.
I love Tony's! I'll let Margot know. See you tomorrow.

Huh. Emma was left staring at the phone. Maybe her friends really
could
surprise her.

At a few minutes past five, right when she was heading upstairs after her shift, her phone rang, and her heart jumped like it had been doing for days. She dragged it out of her purse. Julie. Why was her sister calling? She had the junior prom that night, didn't she?

Emma tucked the phone between her ear and shoulder, digging her keys out of her purse. “Hello?”

“Emma?”

Julie was crying, and Emma dropped her keys on the landing. She didn't retrieve them. “Julie? What's wrong?”

Julie's hiccuping sobs drowned out her words.

“Slow down, honey. Take some deep breaths. What's wrong?”

She heard the shuddering breaths of her sister trying to stop crying, and then Julie spoke. “Mom won't let me wear the dress.”

“What?” Emma loved the dress they'd picked out last Sunday. It was a princess's dress, the skirt floor-length and billowing, made up of a million layers of tulle and fabric. It was royal blue and strapless but not low-cut, the bodice decorated with tiny glittering crystals. Julie had said she felt like Cinderella. “Why not?”

Julie dissolved into another wave of sobs before managing to choke out, “She says it's not appropriate.”

“Okay. Don't panic. Give me half an hour.” She scooped up her keys and put them in her purse, already heading back downstairs. “I'm coming out there.”

Emma had a half-hour T ride to calm down, but she found herself getting more upset with each station they passed. Julie was the rock of their family, confident and self-assured, brilliant and athletic, the daughter any mother would be thrilled to have. No one had any right to hurt her.

When the train rolled into Newton Highlands, Emma was out and up the sidewalk before the doors had fully opened. She took a moment on the front steps, adrenaline and anger and anxiety combining in a stomach-upsetting cocktail that she needed to settle before facing anyone. After three deep breaths, she opened the screen door and walked in.

Pauline was sitting in the living room, her head in her hands, looking older than her years. She glanced up when Emma walked in. “Did you know about this?”

“Know about what? What happened? Julie called me, and she's a mess.”

Pauline glanced upstairs, then back at her oldest daughter. “I don't know what's wrong. She came down in this dress that's
completely
inappropriate for a girl of her size, and she expects me to let her go out in it. And Charlie's out on a business trip, so I have no one to back me up, and I just don't know what to do.”

“What do you mean, it's completely inappropriate for a girl of her size? What's wrong with it? Julie and I picked out that dress together last weekend.”

Pauline looked pained. “Oh, Emma, I wish you hadn't done that. I thought it was a bad idea to let her go out there with you, but I gave her the benefit of the doubt, and now I see that I was right.” She ran a hand through her hair, and Emma noticed that it was gray around the temples. When had that happened? “Honey, big girls can't wear strapless dresses. She needs something with more coverage.”

Emma felt like she was a passenger in her own body, watching the exchange rather than participating in it. She'd been part of this conversation so many times growing up, but never quite like this; it was always her clothes they were discussing.
Big girls can't wear shorts
or
Big girls can't wear tank tops
or
That sundress is fine for a skinny girl, but, honey, you need full sleeves.
And she'd accepted it as fact. But to hear all that said to Julie? It was like she was hearing it for the first time, and it didn't fit with what she'd learned about herself. Why couldn't she be beautiful? If she could wear lingerie and make men and women want her, didn't that mean she could be desirable in her body exactly as she was? And didn't her self-worth, ultimately, mean more than just her dress size?

“Why?” she heard herself ask.

Pauline cocked her head to the side. “Why what?”

“Why can't big girls wear strapless dresses?”

Pauline's mouth fell open as if she were being asked to explain why you didn't run into traffic. “Because . . . because it's indecent!”

“Would it be indecent if she were skinny?”

“No, of course not.” Pauline sighed. “I thought you understood this, Emma. We never had these problems with you.”

“No, because I never
went
to any dances.” She tried to keep her voice low and calm, but it trembled. “I learned that I wasn't pretty enough for boys to look at me, so I didn't even try.”

“Now, that isn't fair.” Pauline got to her feet. “I always encouraged you to make yourself prettier, but you never wanted to put in the effort. I told you that if you lost a little weight, or if you wore some makeup or did something with your hair, you'd be beautiful. You have such a pretty face.”

Emma had to close her eyes and take a deep breath, the rage suddenly so close to the surface that it felt like it would burn through her skin. And her mother wasn't trying to be mean; she didn't realize that what she was saying was problematic. When Emma opened her eyes, she felt the truth as solidly as if she'd always known it. “I'm beautiful exactly as I am, Mom. I don't need to lose any weight. I can be beautiful in my body without changing it, and so can Julie.”

“Of course Julie's beautiful in her own way, but—”

“No, not in her own way. In
any
way. She's gorgeous. She's a beautiful and talented young woman, and if she doesn't lose any weight for the rest of her life, she's still going to be beautiful.” Emma took her mother's hands, demanding her attention. When Pauline looked up, her eyes were full of tears, which caught Emma off guard.

“I don't want people to make fun of her.” Pauline sounded anguished, tortured. “When I was her age, they used to make fun of me. I don't . . . I don't want that for her. For either of you. I want better for you.” Her shoulders trembled, and before Emma knew what she was doing, she had wrapped her mother in her arms.

“People who are going to make fun of her are going to do it no matter what she wears. If she can't learn to feel confident in herself at home, how will she be able to stand up to them?” She stroked her mother's back, holding her, and she heard the floor creak at the top of the stairs. Emma watched over her mother's shoulders as Julie slowly came downstairs, her eyes bright from crying, a vision in the beautiful blue dress. “She knows how to stand up to the bullies, Mom. She shouldn't need to stand up to you, too.”

Emma gently disconnected from her mother, holding her by the shoulders as she stepped back. Pauline's face was wet. “Look at her, Mom,” Emma said, gesturing, and her mother turned. “She looks like Cinderella.”

Julie smiled, her lips trembling. Pauline pressed her lips together, composing herself, and nodded. “She . . . she does.” She took a deep, shuddering breath and let it out. “Honey, I'm so sorry.” She held out her arms to her youngest daughter, and Julie went to her.

Emma stepped back, and a dozen pieces of her life felt like they clicked into place.

Chapter 29

T
ony's was neither
high-class nor situated in a particularly affluent section of Boston. It had been around for longer than Emma had lived in Boston, and when she'd been a broke college student, she'd visited often enough to feel like a regular. Walking into the familiar shop after years away felt like a homecoming, but seeing Alina and Margot standing near the counter was jarring. She hadn't been sure they'd show up.

“Emma!” Alina gave her familiar tight-lipped smile and air-kissed near Emma's ear, but her eyes were bright. Maybe she was actually happy to see her. Margot, too, was all smiles. Emma would normally be inclined to think they were faking it, but Ian's voice in her ear reminded her to give them a chance. She never assumed the best intentions with Alina and Margot. Maybe she should try.

“I'm so glad you suggested this place. I haven't eaten here since college.” Margot was studying the menu.

“You ate here in college?” Emma couldn't picture either of them ever being here.

Alina looked at her like she was crazy. “Of course. We both did. Everybody ate at Tony's in college. Didn't you?”

“Yeah, like, three times a week.” Emma laughed, the first time she'd felt free enough to laugh since her drunken phone call with Ian.

They ordered from a short woman with black hair pulled back in a severe bun and an apron that could probably use a wash. Emma remembered her; she'd looked the same five years ago. This was the type of place where you had to stand at the counter to order and the staff brought the food out. After ordering, the three women slid together into a booth, the red vinyl slick and repaired in places with color-match duct tape. Margot sat across from Emma, Alina beside her. It still seemed so strange to see them in this place, all holding sodas from the cooler.

“I wasn't sure you'd want to come here because it isn't fancy.” Emma played with the cap of her Coke.

Alina and Margot exchanged a look. “Is that why you've never suggested anywhere for us to eat?” Alina asked. “Until now?”

Emma shrugged, the attention making her feel uncomfortable. “Yeah, I guess. I'm not really into fancy French restaurants.”

“Why didn't you say anything before now?” Margot looked incredulous. “It's been years. If I'd known you were unhappy the whole time . . .”

“No, I haven't been unhappy.” Emma felt warm, like it was too hot in there, even though the front door of the shop was open to let in the fresh air. “I just . . . I didn't want you two to be upset.”

“Christ, Emma, we're friends. You can tell us.” Alina's surprise seemed genuine. “What else haven't you been telling us?”

Emma took a deep breath and let it out. This felt like standing in front of a closed door: She might not like what lay behind it, but the hallway had ended. If Alina and Margot were her friends—really her friends—then she should trust them.

“I've been sort of seeing this guy . . . and I need some advice.”

Once she started, it all spilled out. About Ian, and the bondage workshops, and sleeping with him, and the mixed signals she'd been getting, and her fears about his interest in her, all the way down to his comment about doing the same for any of his friends. As she told the story, the initial shock on Alina and Margot's faces gradually faded, replaced by thoughtfulness and concern. When she finished, they sat there in silence for a few seconds, staring at the subs that had arrived, no one eating yet.

At last, Margot broke the silence, shaking her head in slow disbelief. “Christ, Emma, I can't believe you've been holding out on us. I'm jealous. My life looks boring by comparison.”

Emma laughed, taken aback. “You want this craziness? I don't have any idea where we stand.”

“Even so,” Alina cut in. “This is way more exciting than anything happening to me. I wish you'd told us sooner.”

Emma had no idea they'd be so supportive. She felt mingled affection and embarrassment, wishing she'd been forthright with them from the beginning. “So do you have any advice for me or what? I know you two don't believe in love and relationships or anything, but still.”

Alina and Margot exchanged a look. “What do you mean?” Alina asked.

“Well, you're always saying how dating is just networking for women, and, Alina, you talk about men like they're meat.”

Alina's mouth fell open, and Margot laughed. “She's right! You do.”

“I don't mean it, though! I'm always just kidding.” Alina shook her head, disbelieving. “Of course I believe in love. I just haven't found it yet. If I found it, I'd hang on to it.” She picked up her sub and bit into it. Once she swallowed, she added, “So if you think you've found that with Ian, you should go for it.”

“Yeah.” Margot nodded, picking up her own sub. “He at least deserves to know how you feel, no matter what the ultimate result is. Otherwise you'll go your whole life wondering what might have been.”

Emma stared down at her sandwich. “I've always thought that guys like Ian don't end up with girls like me.” Even though she'd been thinking it for weeks, saying it out loud hurt.

The silence hung for a moment before Alina broke it. “Emma, you're probably the smartest person I've ever met. You're sweet, too. And funny.”

“And you've got a great rack,” Margot added, making them all laugh and Emma blush. “It's true. So if he doesn't want you, it's his problem, not yours. You're great just like you are.”

Their praise buoyed Emma's spirits. “Thanks, guys.” She finally started eating, relieved and anxious at the same time. At least when this was all over, for better or worse, she had their friendship.

Now, though, she had to tell Ian how she felt.