“Might be a sexy fresh look for you, Ems. You’re cute enough to pull it off.” He smiles at me and I sigh, pulling myself back together and dry my face on my sleeve. I take the gadgets he hands me from my desk and put them in the base of the suitcase, gently wrapping them in the protective sleeves I leave in there. My mind is blocking out any thoughts about my mother lying in a hospital bed right now and I don’t even want to process this anymore.
“I can’t let you come Jake … I don’t want you to see her like she is.” I glance at him nervously. Stomach churning.
“Why, Emma? You haven’t told me what happened.” He moves behind me, taking a strand of my loose hair and tucks it behind my ear; a normal Jake gesture which serves to make me feel fully calm. Safe. His presence and touch like a balm.
“I don’t want you to know … It’s too … There are things about my life before here, that should stay in the past.” I glance back at him pleadingly seeing his frown soften into a gentle smile as he hides his disappointment well.
“Okay, Emma … I promised I wouldn’t push.” He inhales heavily, defeated in a way.
“But you better call me every night and keep me updated … If you need me, I’ll be there in a heartbeat. Can’t leave my number one girl coping alone when she’s upset.” He brushes another strand of my hair behind my ear gently, his fingers lingering, brushing softly over my cheek bone. His green eyes locked on mine steadily.
“Promise me?”
“I promise.” I nod, basking in the caress and turn away to continue packing. Poor Jefferson has been sitting down in the car for long enough already, and I have a two-hour flight to take, minimum. Then after that I must face a sight, I already know will be unbearable in so many ways.
When I’m done packing, I go into Sarah’s room to leave her a note. I don’t want to call her and say the actual words in front of Jake. Her bed is a riot of covers and clothes and I can only guess they’ve gone for a night out on the town, not that it bothers me. We lead separate lives nowadays.
a way I’m glad she’s not here; not having to explain with Jake so close by about what’s happened to my mother for the second time in my life. Not
Will she ever change?
promise that I’ll call when I land in Chicago and every night that I’m gone. I am torn in two at leaving him and not wanting him to see who I used to be. I need him far away from that part of me right now, but I am distraught
on the plane himself. He waves from the tarmac and I head to my seat, shutting out every thought
***
hired driver takes me to West Englewood. The streets are badly lit, but don’t conceal the grubbiness or derelict area from view. The streets, although busy with traffic, seem almost
day she brought me home from the hospital. My
I don’t. I’m cold and empty and upset. Enraged at her, that she just keeps following the same path in life, over and over. She’s my mother, yet all she ever taught me was that the people who are supposed to be there for you, above everyone else, only have their own interests
close enough to damage you irreversibly. She taught me that men will only look to overpower you and abuse you, that she is so weak in her quest to find a man that she accepts
disgusts me. I’ll never be
in the dark, the letters peeling, paint chipped, and exterior ugly. The apartments above are brown and grubby. The windows appear dark and dirty from down here,
Home sweet home.
I tell him I’ll take them into the apartment myself. I don’t want anyone in there, nor do I need his help. He reluctantly hands me the bags and watches me walk around to the side door, which is concealed by shrubs, into the main foyer of the building before he leaves. It’s narrow and stinks of rotten food
me on the phone. She’s small and wiry with long tawny hair and vibrant blue eyes. She looks exactly as I did at the same age, even the pouting lips and innocent, naive expression. It tugs at my chest and I wonder if my mother sees me in this girl and that’s why she feels compelled to help
seeking out those in need of help, offering her shoulder and arms, driven to be a good Samaritan. Yet she failed her own child in ways she has no way to fathom.