February 19, 2017.
Twenty three - Emma
"It's been a few weeks since I've seen you Emma, how have you been doing?" Her therapist stared at her and searched for some outside indication that Emma wasn't doing well, but there was none. Emma had been sleeping well, the purple that used to hang below her eyes had disappeared almost entirely. She had been taking care of herself and she made sure to let Dr. Phillips know as much.
"I've been doing really well. Sleeping, eating, not swimming in below freezing temperatures, all that fun stuff required for living."
Dr. Phillips surely would have rolled her eyes if they weren't in a professional situation, she always hated when Emma joked about that kind of thing. "That's very good to hear. Do you have anything specific you wanted to talk about today or should we go over something that I've been meaning to discuss with you?"
"I actually wanted to talk about my prescriptions. The sleep one, specifically, I want to stop taking it. It makes me feel like a zombie."
"I would be willing to discuss tapering you off of that. Did you bring Taylor here with you?"
Emma laughed at the question because she knew exactly what it was supposed to mean. "You don't think I would tell you if I stopped sleeping?"
Dr. Phillips raised her eyebrows. "Would you?" Emma shrugged. "That's what I thought. It would be something I want to talk about with Taylor because no, I do not think that you would tell me if you stopped sleeping again."
"It really wasn't that big of a deal." Emma could tell from the look on her face that those weren't the best words to choose.
"Emma, I can't let you do that again. It's very dangerous for you both physically and mentally."
Emma groaned and gave in, knowing that the only way she would be permitted to stop was if they talked about it as a group. Taylor wasn't far, she had stopped letting Emma come alone when she learned that Emma hadn't actually been coming to her appointments at all. "Taylor's in the car. I can put her on the phone or try and figure out a way for her to come in here, whichever you prefer."
"Let's come back to that before you go. I have something I want to ask you."
"Shoot."
"Have you been back to visit your mother since your father passed?"
Emma suddenly wanted to amend her earlier statement to add the word me at the end. Shoot me. She didn't say that out loud, fearing it would cause more questions than necessary. Instead she answered with one word. "No."
"Why is that? Have you been back to visit your father?"
That was a stupid question, of course she hadn't been back to visit her dad. What was she supposed to do, bring him flowers and make herself believe he was better than he really was? Emma would absolutely go and visit him under one circumstance. She would go if she was allowed to throw rocks the the dirt above him and carve the words 'fuck you' in his grave. Emma couldn't help her sarcastic answer. "Do you think I've been back to visit my abusive and dead father?"
This did actually get a small laugh out of her therapist. "No, Emma, I don't. I don't think you have visited your mother either because you don't forgive her."
"If you're right, and I'm not saying you are, then how's that supposed to help me?" Emma leaned forward and gave her the 'tell me more about how wonderfully fucked up I am' look.
"You need to go see both of them." That wasn't a suggestion so much as an order, but Emma didn't respond. "I think it will help you if you forgive your mother and also if you see that your father is dead. I hear he's been sending you letters."
"I see you've been talking to Taylor."
"I have."
"Do you talk about me?" Emma couldn't help but ask, feeling weirded out by the idea of her girlfriend and therapist having some kind of intimate conversation about her.
"Not always, but she mentioned that they were stressing both of you out. What do they say?"
"They say absolutely nothing." Emma rolled her eyes at the thoughts of every single empty piece of paper she had received.
"Nothing? Or just nothing important?"
"Nothing, they are always blank."
"Forgive me for asking this. How do you know they are from him?"
Emma didn't really know for sure, she just knew. "He sent me letters while he was still alive that had his name signed on it. After he died I kept getting the letters, they just stopped having anything written in them."
"Are you absolutely sure they are from him?"
"Of course I am. The envelopes are the same, they've got the same stupid bubble letters spelling out my name on the front and never have my address on them. I don't know who he has delivering them now, but I won't forgive my mum if it's her. I don't care what he put her through, there's no need to continue to taunt me after he's gone."
Dr. Phillips looked like she was genuinely interested in Emma's fanmail from hell. "I agree that it would be very cruel if it was your mother who was giving you these. Have you asked her about it?"
Emma shook her head. "No, I haven't."
"I think you should talk to her about this. It also wouldn't hurt if you went by the cemetery and saw your fathers grave. You can see for yourself that he's gone. You've spent your whole life being scared of him, I'm not entirely sure that you believe you have nothing more to be scared of."
"I will try."
"I appreciate the effort. Do you want to call Taylor and see if we can get her to come in through a backdoor or talk over the phone?"
Emma nodded and pulled her phone out. She dialed Taylor's number, not bothering to go to the contact that was saved in her phone. Emma didn't say anything when Taylor answered, she just handed the phone over to Dr. Phillips and listened to their conversation. Less than five minutes later Emma was being shuffled to a different room, one hidden behind a variety of doors and hallways.
Taylor was sitting in one of the chairs waiting for them. She smiled at Emma, but Emma didn't smile back. Both Taylor and Dr. Phillips sat and waited for Emma to initiate the conversation, but that didn't happen. Emma didn't know how to talk about this. It wasn't even a hard conversation given all of the conversations she and Taylor had at some point or another, but every word refused to leave Emma's mouth.
"Emma told me that she wants to stop taking one of her medications. We agreed that you would need to be involved in that conversation." Emma fought back the urge to say they hadn't exactly agreed. She wanted to stop taking it and her therapist didn't think she would say anything if things started to go down the wrong path.
"Okay. The one for sleep? She's mentioned that she doesn't feel great after taking it." Taylor looked over at her and took her hand.
"Yes, that's the one. She was telling me the same thing. I just wanted to make sure that we were all on the same page and that if she stops sleeping again it would be very important to address that issue before it snowballs into something bigger. Does that sound good to you Emma?"
Emma just nodded, feeling like her head belonged to someone else's body. She could hear every word they were saying, but she wasn't exactly listening.
"That sounds good to me too." Taylor squeezed her hand and her eyes shot up to join back in on the conversation. "Would she need to take a lower dose first or can she stop taking it entirely?" Emma hated the way they were talking about her like she wasn't there.
"She's not on a super high dose, so I don't think there is a need to taper off of it. We can always discuss that again in the future if need be."
"Okay, thank you so much." Taylor looked at Emma again. "You ready to go babe?"
Emma nodded and let Taylor walk her out the back door to the hidden area where the car was parked. Both girls sat in the backseat and Taylor had wrapped her arm around Emma. She still hadn't said anything, but she wasn't exactly sure why. "Can I go to the supermarket on the way home?"
"Course you can. Want me to have someone go in with you?" Emma knew Taylor didn't mean it like that, but she got a little angry anyway. She could walk into a damn grocery without throwing herself in front of a vehicle.
"No. I'm good to go by myself. It'll be quick, I just need to grab one thing."
"Okay, just let me know if you change your mind."
Emma didn't say anything else. She stared out the window and watched the trees pass by in a quick motion that made her head spin. She was so tired she thought she was going to fall asleep in the car. She was so exhausted, both mentally and physically, and didn't know what to do about it. Forgetting all of this happened and going back to New York was an appealing idea, but she couldn't bring herself to share the thought with Taylor.
The drive to the store was short and was taken up almost entirely by Emma's racing thoughts. She told Taylor she'd be back and got out of the car. It took quite a while to find what she was looking for, the flowers were hidden away in a corner rather than by the produce where they were usually kept. Once she found them, she found the exact thing she had been hoping to find. A dozen dead roses that were marked down to less than a pound. The petals were all rotting and falling off, it really was a wonder the bouquet hadn't been pulled from the shelves yet. Petals fell onto the floor when Emma picked them up, but it didn't bar her from buying them at all.
The teenager working the checkout lane kept offering to go and find her some other roses, obviously confused why she would want to buy these ones in particular. There had been other options, beautiful red arrangements full of vibrant color and life, but those weren't what she wanted.
Taylor was also obviously confused when Emma came back with the dead flowers. "Em, those are... beautiful?" Taylor didn't phrase it as a sentence, it was more of a question to bait Emma for an explanation.
"It's okay, you can call them ugly."
"May I ask why?"
Emma shook her head. "I don't really have a good explanation, I just bought them as a gift. Can you swing by my mum's place, Freddy?"
Frederick turned around to see her in the backseat and made a face when he saw the flowers she was holding. Taylor might have been too polite to ask the question they were all wondering, but Freddy wasn't. "I can. Who the hell are those for? They're hideous."
Emma laughed and waved the flowers in between the passenger and driver seats. "I bought them for you Frederick."
"That's so very generous of you Miss Emma, but unfortunately I am not allowed to accept gifts while on the job." Freddy's tone was as sarcastic as ever and he had adopted his best posh accent to accentuate his rejection.
Emma leaned back in her seat and sat the flowers on the floor. She was tired of holding them and the floor seemed much more suitable for where she was taking them. "Since when? I know that's not Taylor's rule."
Freddy ignored her question and pulled into her mother's drive. He got out and opened both Taylor's door and hers before standing to the side and letting them go inside. Emma grabbed Taylor's hand with her free one and pushed the door open that led them to the kitchen. She didn't know what to say, no one gave you a manual for things like this.
What do you say to the woman who is grieving for someone who never cared about her in the first place? What do you say when you are pissed off at that woman for putting you through hell instead of fighting to keep you near her and safe over the summers? What do you say when as much as you want to, you can't bring yourself to hate her?
"Hey mum, you here?" Apparently that's what you say, you start it off simple and act like the feelings so potent they were nearly tangible didn't exist.
Emma listened to the sound of her mother shuffling around in another room and waited for her to respond. "Yes, in the living room dear."
She sat the flowers down on the kitchen table and followed her mothers voice into the living room. Evelyn was fluffing pillows on an already picture perfect couch for guests that they all knew were never coming. Her mother never had guests, and Emma hadn't said she was coming over. What her mother did have was a tiny goat standing next to her.
"Hey mum. How have you been doing?" Emma's tone was overly formal but she made no move to correct it. She and her mum still weren't on the best of terms. She certainly made no move to ask about the goat that had seemingly become her mothers second child. The thing was wearing a diaper and a sweater that was obviously handmade.
"I'm good actually, I've been coping well. Thank you for asking Emmy. I went to visit quite a few times. You should go, I think he would appreciate that."
Emma bit her tongue, trying to not make any unpleasant comments about her mother's use of the nickname and of the present tense. "I'm going to after I leave here, actually."
"Oh, that's perfect. Don't let me hold you."
Was she being kicked out? Her mother always welcomed her with open arms no matter the time or situation, but ever since her father had come back into their life that had all changed. Emma had hoped it would go back to normal now that he was gone. It hadn't. It might have actually gotten worse. "No, you aren't. I wanted to see you."
"Oh, that's very sweet of you." Evelyn continued to frantically move around the living room, wiping off every surface even though they all looked as if they'd been cleaned thoroughly at least twice in the past few days.
"But?" Emma knew there had to be a but.
"You don't have to come over and keep me company, I'm okay. I have Winnie to keep me company." She pointed to the goat that was bouncing around the living room.
She didn't come over so that her mother wasn't alone in dealing with her unprecedented grief over losing a man who never cared for either of them, she came over because her therapist had told her to. "When did you get a goat? Actually, that's not what I came over for. I just had a question for you."
"You know you can ask me anything. What is it, dear?"
Emma hesitated and looked back at Taylor who was standing behind her, still holding her hand. Taylor squeezed her hand three times and smiled gently as if encouraging her to ask the question. She did. "Are you the one that's been delivering dad's letters?"
"Yes, he kept writing to you and didn't want to put them in the post so he had me deliver them. That man wrote a new letter everyday, I swear to you."
Emma didn't have to take her mum's word for it, she had been the one on the receiving end of every single letter. Emma wanted to be angry that her mother would do that to her, but it felt like they were both missing a very important piece of the puzzle. "Are you still delivering them?"
Her mother laughed like Emma was making some kind of joke. "Of course not Emmy. He's obviously not been writing to you from heaven, if you're still receiving them then maybe they're old letters that he did actually put through the post."
Emma had to fight back a laugh herself at the idea of her father in heaven. He'd be the devil masked as an angel who was convincing all the actual angels to betray everyone they knew and loved. Emma had never been particularly religious, but she was absolutely positive that there was no way that man made it into any kind of heaven. "You're probably right mum, thanks."
Emma wasn't sure if she entirely believed he had sent letters through the post and they were just now arriving, but she did believe that it wasn't her mum who was making sure they got to her. It made it easier to forgive her mum for all the summers Emma had held grudges for for the past decade. "Thank you mum."
"Of course, sweetheart. You should get going, go visit your father and all. I'm going to finish cleaning up around the place."
Now she was definitely being pushed out. Emma looked around her mum's house once more before leaving, trying to figure out what exactly needed to be cleaned. Nothing was dirty. Not in the 'everything is tidy but could use a deep clean' kind of way, more in a 'eating off the ground would be cleaner than eating off the kitchen table at home' kind of way. Emma seriously couldn't find a single speck of dirt, dust, or proof that anything besides a vacuum had ever lived here. She had a goat living in the house, there was no way it could be this clean.
"I'll see you later then mum, love you." Emma looked from her mother to the goat that had gone back to standing by Evelyn's side. Her mum mumbled something, probably returning the sentiment but not loud enough for Emma to hear. She didn't stick around long enough for her mother to have time to clarify, she knew it wasn't coming. Emma grabbed her flowers out of the kitchen and got in the car without another word.
Freddy was waiting for them outside. He tried to act like he hadn't been listening, but both she and Taylor knew he had. It was his job, Emma knew that, but it didn't make it any less weird how much he knew about her when she knew almost nothing about him. He had seen some of her worst moments and she didn't even know his last name. Freddy had turned the music low enough for conversation but none of them were talking. Emma wanted to ask so many questions and figure out anything about him. Was he married? Did he have kids? She kept the questions to herself figuring he probably didn't want to discuss his personal life at work. It was unfair to try and get him to share intimate details to make her more comfortable.
Emma waited for the turn into the familiar gated neighborhood, but he didn't. Instead they turned onto a gravel road that led them into a small grove of trees. She couldn't help but recognize the similarities to the start of a horror movie, this was how all the stupid ones died in horror movies. They kept driving until they got to the cemetery that was in the middle of the trees.
Emma looked around, silently asking if this is where her father was buried. Taylor got the message and nodded. "We don't have to stay. We can go home if you want, I just heard you tell your mom..." She trailed off.
"I want to stay. I want to go by myself, I'll be right back."
Taylor just nodded. Emma got out of the car and walked into the small cemetery. It wasn't hard to find the spot that was his. It lacked a gravestone, marked only by a small stake that read 'Earl A. Renners.' It made her happy to see his life whittled down to one small panel. She was here living hers with a job that she adored and a girlfriend she adored even more, and he was in the ground with only a small rectangle to identify that he was there, that he was ever there.
There was no sign that her mum had come here at all, contrary to what she said. It actually looked as though no one had been here in weeks, probably since the burial. Her mother definitely would have brought him flowers if she had come, but there was none. There was not a single stem, petal, or spot in the dirt that indicated there may have once been something there. Evelyn definitely had not been here and that didn't bother Emma in the slightest.
Emma picked out the rose that looked the worst, the one that had rotted completely and had only two dried petals still hanging onto the stem. She stuck it in the dirt and smiled. It seemed a perfect gift for her to leave. He hated roses and he hated her, what better to bring him than a dead rose? She picked the petals off the other eleven flowers and threw them at the ground. It was oddly satisfying to throw them. They did no real damage, just fluttered to the ground and sat there like confetti, but it was enough for Emma.
Emma threw the stems away in a nearby trash can. They were thorny, no need to leave them out for someone to step on or run over with a lawnmower. She flipped him off with her hands in her pockets, not wanting Taylor or Freddy to see her. She would know. She would get the last word. She would ever see him again.
Everything felt lighter on the ride home. Taylor hadn't asked questions, something she was very grateful for. They talked about what the plans were for dinner. Emma had argued against Taylor's suggestion of making homemade pasta, saying she wanted chicken from the place down the street, but the truth was she didn't care what they had for dinner. She was just happy to be sitting in the back of the car and holding Taylor's hand, talking about whatever it was they could come up with.
They compromised and made the pasta with chicken in it and ate until they couldn't eat anymore. Taylor passed out on the bed, but Emma laid there awake. She was getting tired, but she didn't want to go to sleep. She wanted to memorize the way it felt to be wrapped in Taylors arms like this, feeling her chest go up and down with each rhythmic breath. She felt safe in a way that she wasn't sure was possible. She felt like the entire world could be outside holding their pitchforks and torches, ready to fight, but Taylor's arms would protect her from anything.
She fell asleep that night feeling safe and so damn happy.