January 20, 2017.
Nineteen - Emma
Emma was sitting in a hospital lobby. It was cold and bright, she would have rather been anywhere else. To make matters worse she was alone. Taylor hadn't been able to come and her mother had vanished on her, wandering off to get food or something.
She was alone, sitting in a place she hated, waiting for someone she couldn't care less about. Her father was in surgery, he had been for the last three hours. Emma didn't want to come here, there was no reason to. He wasn't going home today, but she wouldn't have offered him a ride anyway.
Right now it was just a waiting game. Emma planned on leaving the second he came out of surgery. She didn't care how it went. She didn't care if he was okay or not, her mother did and that was the only reason she was here. It was exhausting, she was tired of pretending to care. The doctor's weren't sure how long this surgery would take. Emma had agreed to stay until five in the afternoon. There wasn't anywhere she had to be at five, but she told her mum she had an appointment.
Emma kept her eyes on the doors waiting for her mother to walk in, but she still hadn't come back. Evelyn had been gone for almost an hour. Emma wasn't really worried, but she was pissed. She was only here to be a support to her mother, but her mum had abandoned her with no explanation.
She got up and gathered her belongings, shoving them into her small purse. She was going to find her mum or go home, she didn't care which. Emma started to walk towards the door, but a woman in scrubs came in the room and started looking around. "Renners?" The lady asked cautiously, searching the room for any response.
"That's me." Emma walked over to the woman. They were surely looking for her mother but, seeing as she had gone missing in action, Emma didn't bother with the details.
"Will you come with me?" The woman turned around and started ushering Emma down the hallway before she had a chance to respond. They went into a small room with a few chairs. It was oddly dark for a hospital, the only light was coming from a lamp in the corner. Emma sat down in one of the chairs, trying to figure out what they were about to say.
"Is he out of surgery?" This was the only question she could ask, if she asked if he was okay there was the risk of the answer being yes. She didn't wish him direct harm but she wouldn't be upset if he wasn't okay. This lady didn't need to see her reaction to if he was okay or not when Emma was torn on which would be better. If he gets better, he can move away and she will never see him again. If he doesn't get better, she would never see him again but would have to comfort her grieving mother.
"Yes. They are taking him to the intensive care unit as we speak. There were some complications with the surgery." The lady watched Emma, waiting for her to do or say something: scream or cry maybe, ask if he was going to be okay. Emma didn't. She sat there looking uninterested in the whole thing. "He is stable right now, but we will need to closely monitor him for at least the next few days."
"Okay. Let me call my mum. Actually, could you explain it to her? You do a much better job than I would." Emma could probably repeat the explanation word for word, but she didn't want to. She called her mother and directed her to the room she was currently in. They sat there until the door opened and her mother walked in.
Her mum stuck out her hand to the woman in scrubs. "I'm Evelyn, Earl's wife." Emma glared at her mother for using the word wife instead of ex-wife.
Her mum would do everything in her power to make sure he was okay, she had always been like that no matter how he had treated them. Emma held grudges, her mother made excuses. He could actually commit homicide and her mother would go to the police swearing it wasn't his fault, his cereal just didn't have enough milk that morning so he was in a bad mood.
The woman started talking and Emma took her chance to hurry out of the room and into the parking lot. She felt both sterile and incredibly dirty, she wanted to go home and wash all the hospital off of her. She wanted to go home to Taylor. She took an uber to a block away from her house, walking the rest of the way. It was a warm day for January, warm enough to be comfortable without a thick jacket.
Emma met Freddy at the door. "Hey Freddy."
"Hello Miss Emma." Emma had stopped trying to convince Frederick not to call her that and he had stopped trying to convince her to stop calling him Freddy. "How has your day been?" Freddy knew what she had going on that day. He wasn't really asking how her day had been, he was trying to figure out if she had any plans of doing something that would put her in harm's way. Ever since their first night here Freddy had become more overprotective than he was paid to be, always trying to stay one move ahead of her so she doesn't drown or do something else that some would call reckless.
"It was alright. Could've been worse, could've been better. Is Taylor here?"
"She's in the music room."
"Thank you." Emma started to walk down the hallway towards the music room but didn't stop once she reached the door that Taylor was behind. She kept going until she got to the second to last door on the left, her art room.
The art room was mostly empty. There was a small table holding different brushes and paint. There was an easel by one of the large windows and a few extra canvases stacked in a corner, but other than that the floors and walls were bare.
She picked up a small canvas and sat it on the easel, trying to figure out what to do with it. Her therapist had given her the assignment to paint something that made her think of her dad, whatever the hell that was supposed to do.
Emma picked out red and black and sat them by the canvas. She went back for a third color, orange, a color they used to both call their favorite. She couldn't stand the color orange anymore, just looking at it left a bad taste in her mouth.
She painted the whole canvas so black that not a single shred of light could peak through. She stared at the black canvas, not knowing what to put on it. She could paint an orange blob and it would remind her of her father, he wasn't exactly easy to forget.
The canvas didn't actually need anything else, the darkness alone was enough to remind her of her dad, but her therapist would read too much into it if she brought that in with nothing else.
It was a hard decision, but she eventually ended up painting one of her only fond memories she had with her dad. She was six or seven and was holding a large bucket filled with sand. He was buried under the sand with only his head visible. They were both laughing and had switched sunglasses. Emma was wearing a pair that were much too big for her and her father was wearing her princess ones. She didn't bother trying to paint over the black background. It would take too many coats of blue to make it so the black didn't show through.
Taylor knocked on the door and then walked in the room. "What's that?"
"Homework."
"How was your day?" Taylor knew what she had going on today and, just like Freddy, was trying to make sure she wasn't going to something that could get her hurt.
Emma was tired of everyone walking on eggshells around her. It had gotten better after she had started sleeping again. She felt more normal and everyone around her started to treat her more normal as well. "It was shitty. He's fine, recovering I guess." Emma had to resist the urge to throw the word unfortunately somewhere in that sentence.
"Oh that's..." Taylor hesitated. "That's good?" She said the word good as more of a question than a fact.
Emma shrugged. "I guess, yeah."
"Are you okay?" Taylor had finally come right out and asked the question everyone seemed to be avoiding.
"Yes, I'm just really tired. It's been a long day." Emma was fine and she was tired, but she had also never told Taylor about why she and her dad didn't get along and certainly didn't want to talk about it right now.
"Okay. Let's go lay down, we can watch a movie. The Lego Movie?" That was an offer Emma couldn't refuse. She had been begging Taylor to watch that movie with her for over a week. "Go get some blankets, I'll be right there." Taylor kissed her and walked away.
Emma did as she was told, picking out a few of her favorite blankets and making herself comfortable on the couch. She grabbed the remote and started searching for the movie. Taylor walked in a few minutes late holding a bag of popcorn. Emma raised her eyebrows. "You refused to watch it with me and now it warrants popcorn."
"It's a good movie, it warrants popcorn." Taylor sat next to her and took some of her blankets. She quickly amended her sentence. "So I've heard."
"You believed them? What do you mean it's a good movie? You said, and I quote, 'no Emma, I won't watch that movie with you. It's such a dumb concept for a movie and I can feel my brain deteriorating just talking about it.' Did you watch it without me?"
"What? Of course I didn't. It is a dumb concept for a movie, I stand by that. I just heard someone say it was good." Taylor's voice went up an octave, a sure fire sign she was lying.
"You lying little lego movie watcher. You watched it without me!"
Taylor pressed play and cuddled up to Emma. "Can I ask you something?"
Emma narrowed her eyes. "Anything, but I won't forget about you watching my movie without me."
"Why do you hate your father so much?"
Emma signed. "I don't hate him." That's not true. "We just haven't gotten along in a while." Understatement of the century.
"Was that him in the painting you did earlier?"
Ah, yes, the sunny beach with the black sky. Of course Taylor had taken a moment to see what it was. "Yes."
"Are you talking about it with your therapist? You promised you would."
"Yes, I am." This was so far from the truth. She hadn't actually gone back to see the therapist since the first appointment. She had plans of going again, she wouldn't have painted the picture if she didn't, but she had to reschedule the last two appointments because of a flu that just wouldn't go away. Taylor didn't know any of this, Emma told her she was going and then would hang out at a café inside a bookstore.
"Really? I got a call the other day." Taylor's tone was innocent but her look was anything but.
"Who from?" Emma decided she was going to play stupid.
"Your therapist. She wanted to check on you because you'd been very sick for the past two weeks and you wouldn't answer your phone."
Damn, she really shouldn't have put Taylor as her emergency contact. "I have been feeling quite sick actually. It's sweet of her to check on me. Can you go get me some water?"
"Don't change the subject. Why haven't you been going?" Taylor was laying on Emma to where it wouldn't be possible to get up without shoving her off. She couldn't physically get away from this conversation.
"I told you, I haven't felt good." Taylor didn't say anything, she just stared at Emma until she had to explain. "Don't worry about it, I'm going this week. That's what the stupid painting is for."
"Emma, you promised me you'd talk to someone." Emma stayed silent for a minute. She didn't know what to say. Thankfully, Taylor started talking again. "You don't have to talk to me. You don't have to talk to Dr. Phillips either, but I need you to talk to someone. I can find you someone else if you want. I'm scared for you. You scared the shit out of me that day at the pool. I can't lose you Em."
"No, I promise I'll talk to her. I wanted to wait until after his surgery to see if he was okay or not." If he wasn't, they wouldn't have as much to talk about. They stayed in comfortable silence for a minute, watching the lego man on the television talk about finding his pants. "Taylor."
"Yeah?" Taylor looked up at her.
"I'm sorry I scared you. I honestly don't know what was going through my head that day, it was just a combination of so many things I guess."
"I wish I could take this away from you." Taylor mumbled into Emma's chest.
Emma didn't know what to say. She didn't wish Taylor could take it away from her. She wouldn't wish it on anyone, let alone the kindest and most loving person she had ever met. "I promise it's okay, and I promise I'll tell you one day. I just don't want you to pity me, everyone pities me when they find out." Emma wasn't sure why she couldn't tell Taylor about her father. She had talked about James. It was hard, but not like this. She just couldn't bring herself to talk about her father.
"If you don't want to tell me, you don't have to. If you want to wait you can. I love you Emma. You can tell me anything and I wouldn't look at you any differently."
"I love you too Tay."
They watched the rest of the movie in silence. The popcorn had gone cold by the time either of them tried to eat any, so it ended up being discarded on the coffee table halfway through after some had spilled onto the blanket. It was getting dark out, the sun had been setting and the small outdoor lights had turned on.
Emma's stomach was growling and there was a box of leftover Chinese food calling her name. Taylor ended up falling asleep on Emma, leaving little room for options. Ultimately the decision rested in the hands of her empty stomach. She could move her sleeping girlfriend and get food, or she could stay here and wait for Taylor to wake up on her own.
The decision was a no brainer. She slid Taylor off of her and started making her way towards the kitchen. The hardwood floor was freezing under her bare feet, it was like walking across ice. The kitchen tile was no better. The orange chicken in the refrigerator didn't take long to heat up. Emma watched the microwave spin around and stopped it right before the timer ended so it wouldn't beep. Her efforts were in vain, she turned around to Taylor standing behind her.
"What are you making?" Taylor yawned.
"Heating up this chicken, want some?" Emma held up the steaming plate to show her.
"Yeah, that sounds good."
Emma got a second plate out of the cabinet and sat it in front of Taylor. Taylor looked exhausted, the kind of exhaustion that was so much more than the lack of sleep. "You okay babe?"
Taylor nodded. "Yeah. Tree says they want me to go back to New York for a few days and talk about my music."
"Oh, What about?" Emma pushed some of the chicken from her plate to Taylors.
"The future of my career I guess. They probably want to know if I ever plan on releasing new music or if I can stop being their problem. I don't want to go back. I don't want to leave you." Taylor stood up and got a fork from the silverware drawer.
"I'll be fine on my own Tay, promise. If you don't want to go back then don't, but you will probably need to have this talk at some point. Do you want to release new music? I know not now, I mean eventually."
"Yeah I do, I just don't want to face everything. I love doing what I do. I love writing songs and performing. I just can't do that when everything is like this." Taylor was pushing the chicken around her plate with a fork, only taking a few bites here and there.
Emma knew what she meant without explicitly saying it. Taylor thought everyone hated her. She was hiding from the public, she was hiding from social media, she was hiding from everything. "Do you want my opinion?" Taylor nodded. "I think you should go. Go tell them that you will put out new music when you're ready."
"I don't know that I'll ever be ready."
"You will. There's more people out there who love you than you think. Those who don't are being ignorant, and I think everyone will eventually find out the truth of what happened. If you don't want to deal with this kind of thing anymore, that's understandable, but I know you love what you do and you love your fans. It will get better."
"You can't know that it will."
"You can't know that it won't. When would you leave?"
"Tomorrow night. I'd be back Wednesday morning. Do you really think I should go?"
"Yes, I do." Emma watched Taylor push another piece of chicken around her plate. "Stop playing with your food and eat it, would you?"
"Yes ma'am." Taylor put what was probably her third bite of chicken in her mouth and chewed it dramatically. "Are you sure you're going to be okay on your own?"
"Yes ma'am." Emma repeated mockingly. "And I'll be even better when you bring your wonderful girlfriend back some sour candy."
"Is she here? That's awkward, I wouldn't have introduced the two of you."
"Rude." Emma laughed and rolled her eyes.
"Since when do you like sour things?"
"Well, I like you don't I?"
"Rude." This time it was Taylor who rolled her eyes and laughed.
"You started it."