I stare at her in shock before eloquently replying, "You- You're- I.... Oh."
Staring at Emma, I can see the resemblance. The biggest one has to be the eyes- readable and a distinct amber color, just like Jericho's. I only noticed them now, though, because they're so dull and drained of life. Those eyes begin to flicker from me, to the ground and to inside the house, looking unsure of exactly what to do or what even to look at. Swallowing tightly, she says, "Yes, I am. His aunt told me to ask Arsenio where he was staying, he said with you..."
"Um, okay..." I bite my lip, debating whether or not I should let her inside. On the one hand, I know it's really ill-mannered to leave her standing outside, but at the same time knowing that this woman is the one who cheated on her husband and left Jericho's family in ruins. Remembering the latter makes anger in my spike and I step outside, closing the door behind me. "Can I help you?"
"Is he here?" she asks, almost hopefully, but I can almost feel the dreaded anticipation for my answer coming off of her in waves. It makes me feel guilty for a second, unsure exactly how to answer. Would Jericho want to see his mother? Last time he had seen her was seven years ago. She called him that one day- the day that we had kissed- and he had lost it, driving three hours out of town to visit his dad. How would he react now? Jericho can be unpredictable with his reactions, I have learned. He's a mix of different emotions he's trying to control most of time, and although they're usually masked by a cold exterior, when those emotions are brought out, Jericho can latch on to anyone and take action with it. He could be so many things in this situation; furious, miserable, nostalgic, joyful.
I lick my lips, forcing myself not to get lost in my thoughts and to focus on the current situation. I couldn't lie to her, especially not if it might help Jericho move on from his past. At least, I pray that it will... Heaving a deep breath and lifting my eyes to meet Emma's, I say, "He's not here right now, but he should be back soon enough. Would- I mean... Do you want to come inside?"
Emma's eyes go from dull to pleading. "Please."
Nodding, I turn the doorknob and open the door, moving aside to let her inside. Emma tentatively does, almost hesitantly, as her eyes shoot up to look around the house- or at least, what she can see of it. Her eyebrows furrow in curiosity, eyes widening and tongue pocking out slightly between her lips, and at that moment I can't seem to decide whether she's exactly like Jericho or a polar opposite of him.
Closing the door slowly behind me, I gesture with my hand for her to follow me into the living room. Emma purses her lips as she follows me, her footsteps feeble- she even stumbles a few times. We end up at the couches, Emma dropping down in the sofa across from the one I settle in. I find myself fidgeting when an awkward silence settles between the two of us, unsure what to do, unsure what to say. What do I even think of her? When I had first heard Jericho's story, I had thought of her as a monster- cheating and then leaving her family was a disgusting thing to do. Looking at her now, though, she looks more like the victim.
After moments of no exchanges between the two of us, Emma finally speaks up. "You... It's... You're his soulmate, right?"
I nod stiffly, "That's, uh- That's me." Emma's gaze turns calculating, but only for a few seconds before her head drops again. Gathering up the courage, I finally manage to condense the questions building up in my head and blurt out, "What're you doing here? Why did you call Jericho a couple of days ago? Where have you been the past seven years? You better have some damn good answers or you're not seeing him."
Emma seems taken aback by my sudden interrogation. She blinks, her features morphing into emotion I can't seem to pin down to a name to before she reluctantly reply, "I need to talk to my son."
"That doesn't answer my questions."
"My husband," she tells me, her eyes wide and back to the pleading expression- she's pleading for me to understand. I don't, though. I'm confused, and it's causing for nervousness to twist in my stomach.
"What about your husband?" I ask, wondering where she's going with this. Her husband is dead- no, not her husband, Jericho's dad is dead. I refuse to let them be associated together after what she did to him.
"I didn't know," she explains lowly, voice suddenly taking a raspy turn. "I didn't know- he was- is... dead."
Something albeit to frustration fills me. I don't feel pity for her- even though I most likely should- but more so I'm beginning to get fed up with the fact that I'm probably going to be pulling teeth trying to pull proper answers out of her. I remind myself it's for Jericho, though, and if it's going to help Jericho then it's worth it. I intertwine my fingers together, knowing that if I continue to get irritated I'll be able to squeeze them together to relieve myself of the tension rather than lashing out on her. "Okay," I say slowly, as if I were talking to a child, even though she's obviously the adult here. "You didn't know he was dead, so you came here? To talk to Jericho about it?"
"I did- well, the thing- I tried calling him before, a couple of days ago."
I wait for her to continue but, of course, she doesn't. I squeeze my fingers together. "Did that not work out for you?" I ask, although I pretty much already know the answer. I just want to her something more than one stumbled, barely put together sentence from her at a time. Besides, I need to hear her story on all of this, too.
She shakes her head, nimble fingers reaching up to play with the strands of her blonde ponytail. "No. He... He barely talked to me."
"How did you know about me?" I ask boldly, not caring that she might not know that Jericho had told me she had asked about me.
"His friend, Noel," my heart stops, "had contacted me, telling me Jericho wants to come see me. He gave me his number. " When she sees my expression, her posture deflates and her eyes grow big and devastated. "It's... Does he not want to?"
"Noel was lying," I say, quickly regretting letting those words out when I practically see Emma's heart break.
"He... What?"
Emma sounds breathless, like she can't believe this is happening to her. I need to tell her the truth- I've already started at it, after all. "Noel has been terrorizing Jericho and I for being together. He believes Jericho shouldn't have accepted me. He called you to mess with Jericho's head, is my guess." I clear my throat, averting my eyes to look anywhere but her face- the walls, the lamp, the desk... "I'm sorry."
Surprisingly, Emma doesn't hesitate when blurting out, "Does he hate me?" I let myself look at her, but don't offer her a reply. Her eyes widen in desperation, and I have to admit- it's almost scary to watch her like this. "Natalie?" she asks again, panic creeping through her body. "Natalie!"
"I don't know!" I finally exclaim. I squeeze my fingers together. "I don't know."
"You have to."
"Well I don't."
"Then who does?" Emma asks, looking more and more desperate by the minute. I don't answer, and finally, she breaks like a dam, letting her words flood the room, "Someone has to. I need to see him, Natalie. You don't understand what it's like- to- just to live in your own personal hole of guilt! I know that you know what happened- I can see the disgust in your eyes. And I know it was wrong, I know what I did was horrible- you don't have to remind me!"
"I didn't say anything."
"You don't have to, I can tell what you're thinking," Emma says. Not in a malicious or mocking way- more just like a fact.
"Congrats," I snap shortly.
Emma's a mess. Her head snaps around the room before falling in her hands, her posture switching from defeated to tense, her eyes brimming with tears before her jaw clenches with anger. She honestly looks like she's having a mental breakdown. Not wanting to break her before Jericho gets her, I lower my voice and soften it as I ask, "What exactly are you here for, Emma?"
Emma sniffles. "Noel said Jericho wanted to see me."
"And why did you listen? What do you want to say to him?" When her only reply is a shaky breath, I prompt, "Is it to make amends?"
"Yes," Emma hastily says, lifting her head up. Her eyes are red. "I need to say sorry. For leaving and... for Adam."
Her husband, I think in my head. She think it's her fault he committed suicide.
But then again... wasn't it?
I shake the thoughts from my head, not wanting them to linger there and accidentally coming out for her to hear. Besides, it's not her fault he did what he did- it was his conscious choice to take his life, Emma didn't push him to do it.
Emma had been gone.
Emma drops her head in her hands again, her heavy breathing the only sound in the room. I uncurl my fingers, wincing at the soreness in them. My eyes drop to my sock clad feet, not sure what to do in this situation. I'm not a therapist- I don't know how to deal with people in this much distress. It had come easy with Jericho because he's Jericho- my soulmate. I love him, I'd do anything for him. I don't know Emma Beck, however, and as cold and heartless as it may sound, I don't really care for her either. I'm clueless as to how to deal with her- so far, all I've been is blunt.
Deciding I may as well continue on that pattern, I look up and ask, "Why'd you do it?"
"Do what?"
"Cheat."
Emma winces, as if those words had come in the form of a punch to her stomach. Or a slap in the face, which I'm sure it was. Emma lifts her head and threads her fingers through her knotty, thin hair. "You don't understand," she mutters.
I feel anger spark that fire in me. "What?" I suddenly snap, my loud tone surprising her. "What's your sob story? Your excuse that's supposed to make me feel sorry for you? Spit it out."
"I have none!" she yells. "I don't have a reason, or excuse that would make someone pity me! I wish I did, but I don't. I knew what I was doing- I just thought I wouldn't be caught. It was a mistake, one that I had made, one that was my fault, and I live with the consequences of my actions every day and it kills me, Natalie! It ruins me! I don't want you feeling sorry for me- damn it, I don't- I just want to see my son."
Emma is on her feet now, pacing the living room, but I don't move.
She chokes on a sob, "And I had thought- when Noel called me- he would want to too. I thought... God, when I heard he wanted to talk to me, I began crying, Natalie. I was so happy. But now... he still hates me. He never actually wanted to talk to me." Emma ceases her hurried pacing to shakily wipe her tears.
"I think-" I begin, but I'm cut off.
Not by Emma, though. I'm cut off by the sound of the door opening, Jude's small paws and nails scratching against the wooden floors as he scurries up to find me. Emma and I freeze as Jericho's voice calls out, "Natalie?"
Whoo long chapter! I hope you guys enjoyed! If you did, please be sure to COMMENT AND VOTE! I love you all so so much! (: xoxo