Tethered (12 page)

He leaned towards me and it looked like he was going to confess something to me. I leaned forward, too.

“I married Sam when she was only nineteen, but I fell in love with her when she was only fifteen. She was your age, Donya, and I was a little bit older than Emmet. Things were different back then. Kids were raised differently. Society as a whole was different. If I was raising you girls in those times, you would be free to date – under my watchful eye, of course. Things were different and it was a long time ago, but it doesn’t mean that you can’t experience what Sam and I experienced. Maybe this guy is your forever, Donya, and maybe he came at an unexpected time, but maybe you shouldn’t be so quick to push him away.”

He got to his feet, as his line had a bite. He looked back at me and said all parental like “But I’m not condoning a serious relationship.”

“But…how will I know what the right thing is?” I called after him.

“When you’re doing it,” he called back to me.

I sat back in my seat and considered my options.

Chapter Ten

Lucy’s wedding was the third weekend of July. Emmet was due to arrive three days before the event, but five days away from the wedding night, I woke up in the middle of the night because I felt the band between us retracting. I sat there in the dark in disbelief for a few minutes. I could have just been imagining it. The whole idea that there was an invisible tether between us sometimes seemed ridiculous in my head anyway. Maybe I dreamed of Emmet and that’s why I was feeling that way.

I got out of bed. My mouth was dry and it was a hot and sticky night. I needed some water and maybe a slice of the lemon cake Sam had made earlier. When I stepped into the hallway, I stopped and listened. I thought I heard some movement, but then it could have been coming from behind any one of the closed doors. All but one of Emmy’s siblings was in the house, plus spouses and children, and a few other relatives and friends. I shrugged it off and quietly made my way down the stairs.

In the kitchen, I poured myself a cup of iced tea instead of water and started to slice myself a piece of cake. The feeling that Emmet was near did not subside, but felt more intense. I rubbed my chest with one hand, trying to figure out what was wrong with me. He obviously wasn’t there. I was one of the last ones to go to bed and he had not been there and whenever he was mentioned no one said “Hey, Emmet is coming tonight.”

“I’ll just eat my cake and go to bed,” I whispered harshly to myself. “I’m imagining things.”

When a hand closed over my shoulder, I spun around with the butter knife poised to…well…butter…and with a scream in my throat, but a hand clamped over my mouth to muffle the scream. It took me a few seconds to understand what I was seeing, but then my eyes narrowed on the form of the quietly laughing man in front of me.

“I couldn’t resist,” Emmet whispered through his laughter. “You walked right past me in the living room and then you were in here talking to yourself.”

I pushed his hand off my mouth. “I could have stabbed you to death!”

He looked at the butter knife in my hand. “With that?” He looked at it with amusement.

“Shut up,” I said and quickly lowered the knife. “What are you doing here? I didn’t see you on the couch. Why were you sitting on the couch in the dark?”

“I decided to come down a little early,” he said, reaching behind me for
my
slice of cake. “I thought mom would appreciate that.” He pinched off a piece of cake between his fingers and offered it to me. Not in my hand. He put it at my lips.

I opened and allowed him to gently push the cake in my mouth. It was like the ice-cream all over again. He took the next bite.

“I was sitting on the couch because I was exhausted and I just wanted to stretch out for a little while before I came in here and looked for food.”

He offered me another piece of cake and I accepted. I felt relief I hadn’t felt in weeks with him standing so close to me. That invisible line between us wasn’t fooling with me. He really was here. I would never doubt the tether again.

I had considered Fred’s words hard. I felt better after talking to him, but I had come to no definitive conclusions. I had no idea what to do with my feelings for Emmet. I felt like my indecision was further proof that I shouldn’t get involved with him. Besides, I didn’t know if in my absence he had picked up another girlfriend or not. My pondering could be for nothing.

“Do you want me to heat up some leftovers for you?” I asked him after another bite of cake.

He smiled. It made me sigh inside. “Please, thank you.”

I moved away from him and went to the refrigerator. I started pulling out the leftover fried chicken, fried okra, smashed potatoes and corn on the cob.

“I heard about your modeling opportunity,” he said as I worked.

“Oh,” I laughed lightly. “Yeah. Turns out Max was the real deal and not some pervert picking up teenage girls on the boardwalk.”

“You think you’ll do it?”

“I don’t know,” I said glancing at him as I put the plate loaded with food into the microwave. “I’m still not sure that I’m modeling material.”

“I think you’re modeling material,” he said sincerely.

“Thanks,” I said as I pulled open the fridge to put the food back inside. “Your parents set me up with a photographer for tomorrow. We’ll see how the photos turn out. How’s Jersey? Are you having fun without your parents around?”

“It’s okay. I had a couple of parties. The cops weren’t as nice the second time as they were the first time.”

I looked at him. “Emmet!” I laughed. “Better hope Sam doesn’t find out.”

“I just hope she won’t notice that I had her antique couch professionally cleaned after someone puked all over it. That would be far worse than knowing the cops showed up and took our kegs.”

“Someone threw up on the antique couch?” I had to try not to shout as I stared at him with wide eyes.

We couldn’t even look at the couch sideways without Sam going on about how we’d better not get anything on it.

Grinning ear to ear, Emmet nodded and offered me the final bite of cake. I took it. His grin faded some as he used his thumb to wipe a crumb off of the corner of my mouth.

“You owe me another slice of cake,” I said as I turned to the microwave.

“We’ll share another slice when I’m done eating,” he said.

I rolled my eyes and said over my shoulder “Sit down.”

He complied just before I put the hot plate on the table. I got him some silverware and poured him a glass of iced tea. I got my own tea and sat down near him. I loved that the tension that had been between us weeks before was now gone. I was glad to be near him again.

“Tell me what you’ve been up to,” he said and began to eat.

I talked to him about the usual things I did during my Louisiana summers. I told him about swimming in the lake, fishing with Fred, napping in the hammock and playing football with whatever kids showed up for the day. I told him about the time the bathroom doorknob broke and I was locked in the bathroom and about my failed attempt at baking bread with his mom. By the time I ran out of stuff to talk about, he had been long finished with his plate and had cut a huge slice of cake.

“Sounds like you’re having a good summer,” he said, offering me a piece of the cake.

I opened my mouth and let him feed me the cake. I chewed slowly and thoughtfully as I looked at him.

“I’m not,” I said after I swallowed.

“You’re not what?” he asked, confused.

“I’m not having a good summer.”

He looked at me with concern now. “Why not? What’s wrong?”

“You’re not here,” I said softly.

He looked at me for a silent moment and then looked away. “You wanted me to stay away. So, I did.”

“I was wrong.”

His eyes met mine. He looked hopeful. He also looked doubtful. He fed me cake.

The silence that hung between us made it difficult to breathe. We didn’t speak. We shared the cake until the slice was gone. When the plate was empty between us and he still hadn’t spoken, I put my hand on the table and stretched my fingers to touch his. I just barely stopped myself from gasping when he withdrew his hand a few inches to escape my touch. I snatched my hand away, picked up the empty plate and took it to the sink. I quickly washed the dishes we had used with trembling hands. I felt so disappointed, angry at myself, humiliated, and sad. I couldn’t even blame Emmet for not wanting to be bothered with me.

I blinked back tears as I washed the last dish. I turned the water off, dried my hands on a dishtowel and moved away from the sink.

“Goodnight,” I managed to say to Emmet as I made a wide berth around him. “I’m glad you got here safely.”

“Thank you,” he said, watching me.

I left him sitting at the kitchen table and hurried to my room where I could cry alone in the dark. I hated that I was crying at all. I hated that Emmet had the power to make me cry. I kind of hated Emmet for having that power over me.

I wiped at my stupid tears and lay in bed staring at the ceiling fan. It was fairly dark in my room, but I could hear the hum of the fan above me. I wondered if I should talk to Emmy about Emmet. She had no clue that there had been anything between us. I hid it well. Emmet hid it well. I wasn’t sure why I had not told her when we told each other everything. I knew about every boy she kissed and how far she went with them in great detail. She told me about the hidden bottle of tequila in her closet and the bag of weed at the back of her underwear drawer. She shared her thoughts and feelings with me on everything from her mother to her cousins and even told me her biggest insecurities. She trusted me implicitly, yet I withheld much from her. Emmy should have been the first person I told after Emmet kissed me, and really, it would have been good to have someone to talk to after he had insulted me on the boardwalk. I didn’t tell her that I felt brokenhearted when I created my Valentine’s Day painting. I had shrugged as if I hadn’t had a clue when she asked me where my inspiration had come from.

Emmy didn’t have a big mouth. I didn’t for a second believe that she would blab about Emmet and me to anyone, but I guess I didn’t want to be hassled about the fact that it was Emmet that I experienced all of these things with. He’s her brother and he was supposed to be like a brother to me. I didn’t want to hear her disgusted remarks, her jokes, or her objections. The whole situation already felt weird, and I really thought that with Emmy involved, it would feel extra weird, but now I was reconsidering. I felt like I was going to vomit out my heart, because I sure as hell wasn’t going to need it anymore.

“Exactly why teenagers don’t need to be in love,” I whispered harshly to the darkness, angry at my melodramatics.

I felt warm air rush into my bedroom as the door was quietly pushed open.

“Emmy, it’s like, three in the morning,” I said quietly. I didn’t even look at her. It was just as well that she was coming in for a late night visit. Maybe it was time for me to tell her what’s really been going on in my life.

My chest fluttered as it did when Emmet was near. Maybe he was just going to bed and that’s why I felt him nearby. Then again, he had fooled me in the kitchen, but he had made it pretty clear how he felt. It may as well have been spelled out in cake crumbs on the table.

Emmy’s footsteps were a little on the heavy side as she walked across the room… I slapped my forehead. I should really start trusting my instincts.

“Take your sneakers off before everyone in the house knows you’re in here,” I snapped as much as one can snap in whisper mode.

There was a long pause and then some soft noises as
Emmet,
not Emmy, took his sneakers off. I heard the shoes gently touch the floor as he put them down and then a moment later he was climbing into my bed. I looked over at him, just barely making out his face in the dark.

“I don’t even know why you’re in here,” I said with irritation. I was suddenly angry with Emmet.

“You’re hurt,” he said with a sigh. He slid an arm across my waist.

“A little bit,” I answered stiffly and pushed his arm off of me.

“If anyone should be hurt and angry, it’s me,” Emmet said sourly. “You aren’t the one who has been repeatedly rejected.”

“I tried to make up for it!”

He put a hand over my mouth. “Keep it down,” he snapped. “And for the record, you can’t think that telling me your summer sucks without me makes up for anything. What does that mean anyway?” he growled. “Like, do I amuse you? Am I a fun summertime toy that you just drop when Autumn comes?”

I shoved him hard. “It means that my life isn’t the same without you in it.”

“My life isn’t the same without a variety of people in it. That doesn’t mean anything except that maybe you have a hard time dealing with change. It doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with me.”

I put fists to my eyes, clenched my jaw, and kicked my feet in the quietest temper tantrum I had ever thrown. I was so angry and confused. I was going to punch him square in the face if I didn’t calm down.
Stupid teenage hormones.

“Why are you in here, Emmet? If you think I’m so shallow, why are you in my bed? Get out if that’s how you really feel.”

“I want
you
to tell
me
how
you
really feel, Donya.”

“I’ve told you before,” I argued.

“Not really,” he said flatly.

I had to think back to all of our conversations. I’d expressed my anger, my disappointment, and when I was hurt. I had never outright told Emmet how I felt about him. I had alluded to it and maybe it even translated in my kiss, but was that enough? Actions only speak louder than words when the words have already been spoken.

I deflated in my bed. My back lost its rigidness and my tensed muscles melted. My anger sunk away, too. Emmet needed to hear it or he wouldn’t believe it. I had not said nearly enough to convince him of my feelings. I had said more to his father than him about how I felt about him. I took a deep breath and let it out slowly before rolling onto my side to face him.

“I love you,” I said so softly, I was barely able to hear it even in my own ears. “It scares me. A lot. I don’t know how to handle the range of emotions I feel for you, and I still think I’m too young, but I want to figure it out. Not by myself, but with you.”