Love from A to Z(66)

Emma Z. brought up returning to university, and I didn’t say anything.

Which I thought would get everyone more inquisitive, but thankfully they started giving their own stories of going back to school after the break.

“I’m leaving tomorrow,” Emma P. said, scrunching her ice cream wrapper into a ball.

The others chimed in, offering their own dates of departure, many of them leaving Doha tomorrow as well. In a few days, it would be just me left here. With Hanna and Dad, yay.

But alone with my MS.

I was in this weird space of wanting not to be alone and wanting not to be crowded, either.

I just wanted the right mix of being with someone I connected to, who cared, but also let me be.

I spun my trash, folded small, between my fingers. Just origami folding that plain white wrapper into a perfect tiny square while listening to everyone talk about my illness had been therapeutic.

I twirled it to not think of the future. Of loneliness.

When things fell silent, but not awkward silent, Emma P. looked at Connor, then at me, and then back at Connor, before speaking. “That’s why we came by today, Adam. We couldn’t leave without saying good-bye. Without seeing you.”

“I’ll be here when you guys come back.” I waved at Hanna as she rode by, trying not to show my discomfort at edging close to the topic of Me, Alone. “And hopefully everyone will come back to Doha? For the summer?”

“Let’s take a pic,” Connor said, standing up, holding a plastic bag out to collect everyone’s trash. “Hey, can your sis take our picture?”

I nodded, thankful for the change in conversation. “Yeah, Hanna’s pretty good at clicking. Lots of practice.”

“Hanna!” Connor advanced to the stairs leading to the boardwalk, to get her attention.

Madison and Jacob got up and walked to one of the big white rocks on the lawn, with Isaac following, taking photos of them with his phone. I’d heard Madison and Jacob had an account called Long-Distance Love where they posted their miss-you picture postcards to each other.

Emma Z. unfolded herself from the canvas chair she’d been curled in, stretched, and wandered away.

Seeing what had just happened, I scratched my elbow.

They’d left Emma P. and me with empty patio furniture.

“Adam, I hope you know that finding out about your MS . . . how much it affected all of us,” she began. “I cried so much when I heard last night. But Connor told us not to badger you with messages.”

I continued scratching, nodding to acknowledge her thoughtfulness.

“The thing is, I want to be there for you. If you need anything, just let me know, okay?” She pulled her legs up and crossed them on the ottoman she was sitting on. “I mean, I’ll be far away, but in terms of emotional support, you know?”

“Thanks.”

“You were always there for me, and I’ll never forget that. I still have the Airbender back brace.” She smiled and then lowered her voice to a whisper. “Don’t tell anyone, but I took it with me to school in Chicago. It’s in my dorm right now.”

I laughed. “Well, it took me two weeks to finish. I hope it’s framed somewhere.”

She laughed too. Then blurted, “Adam, you know I’d keep whatever you made me, right?”

I went back to scratching my elbow. This situation was painful. But she was looking at me for a response. “Yeah.”

“I don’t know how to say this, but it’s been a long time coming, and now I feel like I can’t go back without saying it. That you’re important to me.”

“You guys are important to me, too.”

“Just to rest my mind, is there someone else for you?” She spoke softly and slowly, like she was trying to make it less painful for me, and for her. For us, I guess.

I was about to quickly blurt, No, no there isn’t anyone, but I don’t want anyone now, just to stop this thing before it started, but then . . . it would keep something open.

In Emma P.’s eyes it would mean that there could be a chance.

But while Emma P. was someone kind and fun, she wasn’t the someone for me. She wasn’t the someone I chose.

She was part of the friend family I’d been dealt.

I hesitated, trying to select my words carefully.

And then Zayneb, sitting at the back of the plane, a light above her head, came to me.

Wait. Yeah, there had been someone else starting to put roots in my heart. And even though it lasted only until yesterday afternoon, after which the roots froze cold, their remnants were still there.

I could call them to mind.

Because this was an emergency situation.

“This is hard to say, Emma, but yeah, there is someone.” I stopped scratching. “I met her right before getting back to Doha.”

“Oh,” she said, her voice even softer.

And then there was nothing, no more words from her, or questions, nobody else around to break the silence. No elbow scratching from me either.

Just her face clouding fast in disappointment and me trying not to see it.

Then, after a long, long pause, she uncrossed her legs, dropped them, and leaned forward so she was at the edge of the ottoman, her hands clutching the cushion on either side of her, as though she were going to launch herself out of it. “Okay, I guess. I guess I should be happy to know the truth.”