“So Emery,” my dad says, as he stabs his fork into his steak. We’re having an early dinner so that we can wash the horses in daylight. We’ve had a horrible heat wave for the past week. “Your probation is up in a few weeks. Any plans?”
I bite my tongue as I push my food around my plate. Things have been weird between us ever since that night, and neither of us have said much to each other. Mary kicks my leg underneath the table and I glare at her. She nods her head towards Emery and I look towards him.
“Emery?” My dad repeats, as Emery’s head snaps up towards him. He had been lost in thoughts. “Any plans after probation?”
Emery shrugs, and uses his fork to draw pictures in his mashed potatoes exactly like I am. “I don’t really have many places to go now that I know my father’s in town.” We still haven’t had any sign of him, and I assume that my dad scared him off with the shotgun.
“I don’t think he’s going to be bugging you if you stay here,” my dad says in between bites. “You know, you’re one-hundred percent welcome to stay here even when you don’t have to.” I watch Emery, and he doesn’t even look up. To me, that is my answer. He still wants to get out of here as fast as he can. “Oh, River,” my dad turns towards me. “Your mother and I are going to take some cows up to our friends in Dalston tomorrow. He wants to buy them, and he can’t come pick them up.”
I scrunch my eyebrows together. “Dalston? Isn’t that far?”
My mother nods as she grabs the bowl of mashed potatoes. “We would be gone for the night, so maybe Mary could stay overnight to help you and Emery with the chores?”
Mary shrugs, and tries to hide her smile of excitement. But her expression fades as Emery’s chair makes a scraping noise as he pushes away from the table. Leaving his barely touched food, he strides towards the back door and walks out it, letting it swing close behind him.
“I’ll go talk to him,” nods my dad, excusing himself from the table. The rest of us eat in awkward, unknowing silence.
Mary and I walk outside, and I stop to admire my birthday present from last week. It’s a red and grey beat up old pickup truck. However I still loved it the same. As long as it could take me from point A to B, I was fine with it.
A few minutes later, the horses stand in the middle of the space between the house and the barn. Mary carries a heavy bucket full of soapy water as I retrieve the hose from the side of the house. As I walk beside the deck towards the horses, I hear my father and Emery talking as they sit on the steps. I’m trying my hardest to hear what they’re saying, but I get distracted.
“No,” whines Mary, dragging it out as all the sponges she’s carrying from the barn fall out of her arms. She picks them up as I press the down handle of the hose. “River, stop!” she laughs as the water sprays in front of her feet, not even touching her.
Rolling my eyes, I turn the hose onto Silver and start to get her wet. She neighs happily at the cool water and I can’t help but enjoy the cold spray that splashes back at me. This heat wave needed to end, and soon.
“So I’m thinking,” Mary says as she tosses me a sponge. I drop the hose and dip the yellow sponge in the soapy bucket.
“That’s never good,” I smirk, as Mary’s eyes narrow at me.
“Oh shut up. I meant about tomorrow night. Movie night?” I think about the movies we haven’t seen in a while as I sponge down Silver. Ever since Emery showed up, we haven’t really had a movie night lately.
“Need any help?” I have no time to answer Mary as I look to my left. Emery stands there, with his hands in his dark jean pockets. He’s wearing a light blue band shirt that makes his black hair stand out more than it usually does. His voice is calm and nice, unlike the annoyed, bored one I had been hearing all week.
“Knock yourself out,” Mary shrugs, throwing him her sponge. She picks up the hose and starts to spray Patch. Emery walks around to my right where Mary had been moments earlier and starts to pat the sponge against Silver.
“You’re doing it wrong,” I mutter, grabbing Emery’s hand. I start moving it in circular motions when he tears it away.
“I can’t do it,” he snaps, holding his hand as far away from me as it can get.
“I have an idea!” Yells Mary, running happily towards my truck. I pay no attention as I glare at Emery. He’s still sponging her wrong and it’s really aggravating me.
“You’re still not doing it right,” I tell him, reaching for his hand which he moves away from mine before I can grab it. “You need to do it the way I showed you or the dirt won’t come out.”
“Leave me alone, River,” he barks, taking a step away from me. All the built up anger and wounded feelings rise to the surface as I lunge towards his hand to retrieve the sponge. Music starts to blare from my truck, but I barely notice. All I recognize is the mix CD Mary had burned me. She had also got me a CD player for the truck, which it didn’t have because it’s so old.
“Emery,” I whine, angry. My parents both sit on the deck, watching us fight while they sip their drinks as if this is entertaining to them. “Just let me show you how to do it!”
I lunge for the second time for Emery’s hand but he raises it high up so I can’t reach. “Do you want it?” He asks, raising his eyebrows. When I nod, I instantly regret it. Smirking, Emery twists the sponge in his hands and the soapy water falls directly on my head. I’m soaked on contact, and extremely pissed.
“Asshole!” I scream, ignoring my parents who I can hear laughing. I don’t even think about it as I throw my sponge at Emery. It hits him directly in the face and once it falls to the ground, soaking his clothes on the way, his expression is of pure shock served with a side of fury.
“Bitch,” he retorts, grabbing my arm and yanking me around. He turns me until I’m facing the opposite way so he can push my arm up until it hurts. Not wanting a repeat of the pain I felt the first time he did this, I raise my left foot, and kick him in the shin with the back of my heel.
“Enough!” yells Mary, and suddenly water is soaking me everywhere. Emery lets me go and I cover my eyes. Mary’s spraying us with the hose, and we’re already soaked from head to toe within a second. When she stops, she looks embarrassed. I look to Emery, who’s already staring at me. We nod to each other, knowing what the other one’s thinking. Quickly, we bend down and I pick up the sponges while Emery grabs the soap bucket. Mary starts to scream as she drops the hose and we begin to chase her.
Two Hours Later:
“So,” I mumble, slowly walking down County Road Six beside Emery. We had just walked soak and wet Mary home after we changed, and now we’re left to ourselves.
“So,” Emery repeats, not meeting my eyes. Early evening had turn to night as the sun sets across the horizon. The crickets had already started chirping, and so far no cars had gone down the road, leaving us to small talk.
“Any big plans for tomorrow’s adult-free night?” I ask and Emery shakes his head no. “What? No parties, clubbing, or trying to kill me?” Emery steps to the left to purposely shove me with his shoulders.
“Nope.”
I roll my eyes. “You really know how to kill a conversation.”
“River,” Emery says quietly, shoving his hands in his pockets. I’m starting to think he’s run out of cigarettes, because I haven’t seen him smoke lately. “I think we need to talk.”
Instinctively I pick up my pace so that I’m ahead of him. The last thing I want to do is talk about what happened on the night of my birthday. Forgetting about it and acting like it never happened seems like the best option to me right now.
“River,” he whines, grabbing my arm. I don’t stop walking but now we’re on the same pace. “What you said was-“
“Stupid,” I snap, cutting him off. “I know. Let’s just forget it, alright?” I try to walk ahead of him again but he grabs my arm.
“That wasn’t what I was going to say.” When I look over to meet his eyes, his expression is pleading. Sighing, I decide to suck it up and listen. “What I was trying to say, is that you shouldn’t feel that way about me.”
My eyes narrow as I yank my arm free of his grasp. “Yeah and why’s that?”
“Because falling for me is a bad idea,” he snaps angrily, no longer the calm Emery who I was trying to ignore just minutes before.
“I think it’s too late,” I whisper, slowly down my steps. We’ve already had a conversation similar to this one, about not getting attached. This time though, the topic is more serious. Last time I didn’t know what he meant when he responded. However this time, the tone of his voice can give me all the answers I need.
“Yeah,” shouts Emery, walking ahead of me. His fingers clench into fists and unclench again. “Me too.”