The Sex Education of M.E. (28 page)

I glanced at Merek over his daughter’s head.

Thank you
, his tear-filled eyes spoke to me.

On Friday night, I didn’t have to work. I looked forward to some long overdue sleep. Emme had forgiven Cassie, but she wasn’t exactly forthcoming in mending the fences with me. She answered my calls, but the conversation was stilted and brief. I didn’t like it. I didn’t know how we’d work through it. This was the messy part I wanted to avoid. Even if Cassie and Mitzi hadn’t been in the accident together, there could have been something else. Something that exposed my children, my biggest vulnerability. When Emme hugged Cassie, I knew how I felt about her. The realization hit me like a wave. I could love her. She was a good woman, with a compassionate heart, and I wanted to feel that daily.

But she hadn’t forgiven me.

“Dad, let’s go out for dinner,” Jake surprised me. Friday was the night I ordered pizza and watched whatever game was available while my children enjoyed a social life. Later, I’d find my brother at Bruno’s and, in the past, find a woman to bury myself in before returning home. I lived a dual life. It had been easier when I lived with my mother, and Jake was taken care of in my absence. Living in our new home, without another adult, I slowly became more conscious of how and when I did things. After hearing Jake and Cassie’s discussion a few weeks ago, it was clear to me that they knew more than I realized.

“Where do you want to go?” I asked, staring at the television. I’d been home more often than not, finding things to do around our new home, attempting anything to keep myself busy and my mind free of Emme.

“Dad,” Cassie snapped, “change your clothes. Put on your dark jeans and that plaid shirt you like so much.” I stared in disbelief at the recommendation. Cassie hated my purple plaid shirt with the white button snaps. She said it made me look like a hillbilly biker dude. Jake glared at Cassie while she smiled at me.

“What’s going on?” I leaned over the arm of the leather lounger.

“Just get dressed,” Cassie said again, holding her smile a little too firmly. “Don’t forget your cowboy boots.”

Jake’s eyes closed and he shook his head. His hand came to his forehead in this way he had when he was flabbergasted with his sister’s ignorance. He looked up at me, continuing to shake his head.

“I knew this wouldn’t work.” His eyes focused on mine.

“What are you two up to?” I laughed, sitting forward in the chair, twisting to face them both.

“Hostile takeover,” Jake stated. Cassie glared at him. My questioning glance shifted from one to the other of my children.

“Just get dressed, Dad,” Cassie demanded softly. “Dark jeans, purple plaid and cowboy boots. Don’t ask questions.” The tone of her voice reminded me of my mother when she’d tell the kids to do something. I chuckled at the similarity. I’d missed my parents greatly this week, especially my mom, who was more of a mother to Cassie and Jake than their own. I stood and followed directions.

Fifteen minutes later, we pulled up in front of Emme’s house. Jake drove my truck and the two of them eagerly exited. They walked confidently up to her front door and rang the bell.

“Pizza,” Jake called out, knocking on the door. Emme’s daughter, Bree, opened it. I followed slowly behind, not certain why we were here.

“She’s not cooperating,” Bree flapped her arms as she spoke when I reached the top of the front stoop. I entered their front hall feeling shaky and highly nervous.

“What is going on?” I asked, more gruffly than I intended. Emme rounded the corner of her living room, stopping short when she saw me. Her hair was pulled up in a messy twist. She wore a heavy sweatshirt with shorts. Her make-up was minimal. She looked beautiful.

“Merek?” she questioned. “What’s going on here?” She looked from one to the other of us. My shoulders shrugged; I was just as clueless as her.

“Kidnapping,” Jake stated.

“Surprise,” Mitzi interjected, a smile beaming from her still off-colored, bruised face.

“Now, get freaking dressed,” Bree said, slapping her hands on her thighs, clearly frustrated with her mother. Emme stared at me, questioningly.

“I have no idea.” I held up my hands in surrender.

“You two are going out,” Cassie stated. “Rowdy’s.” My head shot up.

“How do you know about Rowdy’s?” Concern that Cassie had been to the famous country bar in Wrigleyville was evident in my tone. Known for their line dancing and beer specials throughout Cub season, Rowdy’s was a place I’d frequented a while ago.

“I know it’s one of your favorite places for country music,” Cassie shuddered.

“I love country music,” Mitzi added. “Everyone knows about Rowdy’s.”

“I don’t dance,” Emme stated, crossing her arms over her chest.

“First time for everything,” Mitzi stated. “Like going on a real date,” she leaned in conspiratorially toward her mother. Emme stared at her oldest, and then slowly glanced around the room with an exasperated expression of defeat on her face.

“I don’t think this is a good idea,” she stated. It was my turn to stare. I wasn’t taking her out, if she didn’t want to go anywhere with me.

“I think I better…” I started.

“Stay right there,” Cassie demanded.

“Because she’s getting dressed,” Mitzi commanded, placing an arm around her mother and pushing her toward the staircase.

“I think…” Emme said.

“This is a great idea,” Jake and Bree interjected. We all stilled, and then burst into laughter. The tension was thick and awkward, and even the laughter stifled a little, but it was helping.

“Fine,” Emme said, like a petulant child, and I cringed at the word. She shook off her daughter and headed for the staircase.

Fifteen minutes later, her hair was down. She wore a floral print dress covered by a jean jacket and a pair of flip flops.

“You can’t dance in those,” I said, slowly rising from the couch were I’d been waiting. I felt like a schoolboy on my first date. Eyes on the boy, worried he’d attack the girl. I wanted to attack. I wanted to kiss that look of distrust off her face, then pin her to the wall and screw some sense into her. I wanted her, period.

“I don’t have cowboy boots.”

“I have the perfect pair,” Bree offered and ran up the stairs, returning immediately with a worn brown pair with turquoise designs. Emme slipped them on and stood upright, flipping back her hair.

“I look ridiculous,” she stated.

“You look beautiful,” I muttered, and all eyes were suddenly on me. Emme bit her lip, and the awkward tension returned to the room.

“Okay, kids,” Jake said, clapping his hands. “No shenanigans. Don’t stay out too late. I want her home at a respectable time. Keep distance between you when you dance. And no fraternizing with the patron.”

I rolled my eyes.

“That didn’t even make sense,” Bree laughed.

“Okay,” Mitzi interjected. “Have fun.”

Forget it, this was more awkward then being a teenage boy meeting the parents. The scrutiny of children had to be twenty times worse.

“What are you going to do?” Emme asked, narrowing her eyes at Mitzi.

“We are going to stay right here,” Cassie offered, wrapping an arm around Mitzi. “Pizza is coming in thirty minutes. Jake has his Chrome device. We aren’t going anywhere.”

Emme needed that reassurance because her shoulders relaxed. She nodded her head at Cassie and turned to face me. Doubt and concern were written on her face, and my heart crumbled at the apprehensive vibe radiating from her body.

The ride to Rowdy’s was tense. The radio low, the music was a sultry country tune. I didn’t recognize any of the lyrics. Merek asked a sporadic stream of questions about Mitzi, and about the new semester. I’d wanted to take days off to sit with her, but I couldn’t start the semester already missing classes. Those first days set the tone. Gia had been a lifesaver, as she came to my home after her kids went to school. Her shift rotated at the hospital, and she only had the one course at the university. We worked out a schedule to monitor Mitzi for days.

Cassie was in my sophomore level English class, and while I initially thought it would be a conflict of interest, the way things were going with Merek, I changed my opinion. She hadn’t been present the first week of class anyway, and I excused her, assuming she was still recovering like Mitzi.

As we drove closer to Lake Shore Drive, Merek gave up on conversation. Not forthcoming in offering information, I wasn’t asking any questions in return. When we hit the Drive, I just enjoyed the ride. Lake Shore Drive lines the shore of Lake Michigan, splitting the coastline from the cityscape. Its peaceful rhythm in the growing darkness mesmerized. City lights lined the drive, as we drew closer to the towering structures, but off to the side rolled the subtle, dark waves of the lake.

“If you really don’t want to do this, I can turn around,” Merek finally said, breaking into my empty thoughts. “But I’d feel guilty if we were back too early. They seemed to have put some thought into this.” Collectively, our four children had plotted this fiasco of an evening. I was already in my comfy clothes, ready for a date night with a book and a large glass of wine.

“They were only trying to be nice,” Merek said, running a hand over his wrist, which wore a small beaded bracelet. Gazing sideways at him, he was the epitome of country masculine. He only missed a baseball cap or a cowboy hat, and the look would have screamed country superstar. He looked so good, my heart raced while I risked glances at him as he drove. That plaid shirt hugged his solid form. His jeans were snug on his thighs. He looked calm, while I was a bundle of nerves. I wanted to relax, and yet I couldn’t seem to let go.

“I know,” I said, softly, looking away from him. I had to look away. Looking at him brought on a wave of regret. Not at what we’d done, but at what we didn’t have. I missed him. I missed his smile. His laugh. His hand in mine. His touch.

“Look, how about if we go for an hour. That’s plenty of time to fool them, and then we can go back.” His proposition was so straightforward, like he’d been considering it the whole time we rode. He didn’t want to be with me, and my shoulders sagged. I wanted to turn back time, but I didn’t know how. I didn’t know how to wipe away the absence of days from him and the tension over Cassie and Mitzi. Although she’d apologized, I didn’t know how to let the situation go. I didn’t really need to forgive Merek, as Gia said. He hadn’t done anything wrong. I just didn’t know how to let go of the past.

We parked at a firehouse a few blocks away and walked to the bar. Merek’s stride was long and quick, like he was racing, attempting to speed up time and end this misery. He practically stormed down the busy street and I struggled to keep up, skipping at times to catch up to him. We drew near the corner of Addison and Clark, and the historic Cubs’ stadium was lit up for a night game. Merek reached for my hand, holding it firmly as our pace slowed and we wove through the fan crowd. We neared Rowdy’s, a bar I’d never even heard of before tonight, and Merek moved to the front of the line.

“Merek Elliott,” the bodyguard acknowledged, slapping hands with Merek before pulling him forward for a guy hug. Merek smacked the back of the burly man.

“Let us in?” Merek questioned. He reached for my hand again. The burly man’s eyebrow rose in surprise.

“It’s crowded in there,” he stated, his eyes widening, as if he was trying to tell Merek something.

“We’ll be okay,” he said, drawing me forward, and securing me before him. He moved his hands to my hips and nudged me toward the door. It opened with a firm pull, and the music nearly slapped me in the face. Loud, twangy sounds filled the red backlit bar. The place pulsed with a youthful, bouncy sound and the dance floor moved like a rhythmic, living organism. It shifted forward and back, then swung to the side and repeated a synchronized motion. Merek still had my hips and maneuvered me to the bar.

“Merek,” the bartender called over the crowd, and Merek released his hold on me to reach over the bar and high-five the young man behind the large wooden structure. He nodded toward me, and Merek yelled, “Emme.” I looked from Merek to the bartender, who winked at me.