This Close to Okay(37)
“Right on,” Emmett said. He smoked and got quiet as the baseball game stretched into the seventh inning.
*
By the time Tallie’s power was restored, the Giants had won the World Series. She and Emmett had come inside, hung up their wet things. Tallie put a towel beneath the coatrack to catch the rainwater. She opened her laptop and ordered her vitamins, donated to the nonprofit against sex slavery she’d thought about earlier. She put the kettle on while Emmett and his backpack went to the bathroom.
He’d left the backpack inside when he’d gone out on the porch. Jackpot. Tallie had unzipped it quietly in the dark, shoved her hand in, felt around, making sure there wasn’t some violent evil inside. She touched the little ring box he’d shown her. Something else wrapped in paper—a book? Books? Another small box or book and some clothes—cotton, denim, wool. Plastic bottles. She couldn’t see a thing, just felt around. Lifted the backpack with one hand to see how heavy it was—not too heavy, not too light. She put it down quick, in case he came inside.
Tallie was right about his energy—that lilac puff. She stood in her living room chewing her thumb, looking down the hallway, picturing Emmett behind her bathroom door with that backpack. He didn’t have a gun or a severed head in there. It was mostly soft things; she knew that. But she still jumped and slapped her hand to her heart when the teakettle surprised her, screaming from the kitchen.
EMMETT
From: [email protected]
To: [email protected]
Subject: Re: i still care about you too
Yes Tallie, I am trying. Finally. And I appreciate you saying it, because I really am. And you’re right. I should’ve treated you better—my parents remind me of that a lot. They’re not letting me off easy, just so you know. You’ve asked tough questions, but I will try my best.
My love for Odette is different, but I don’t know if I can explain it. It was a surprise. I do want to be a good man. I’m trying to be a better man. If what you’re asking is whether or not I love her more than I love you, the answer is NO. It’s just different. And I fucked it up with you. I am trying not to fuck it up with her.
It feels very strange to be a father and I don’t think it has sunk all the way in yet. I can probably answer this question a little better down the road. I can tell you I love my daughter fiercely even though at this point she just sleeps and cries. And yeah, I mean it feels weird to have a baby with a woman who isn’t you. I always thought it’d be you. Wanted it to be you. We tried so hard. You know all this.
You sound different and I mean it in a good way! I truly don’t know where we go from here, if anywhere, but I’m so glad you reached out. I’m so glad, Tallie. And I haven’t texted or talked to Lionel much since the divorce and am not sure if it’s okay for me to contact him anymore…I know he’s still pissed at me, but if you wouldn’t mind telling him I miss him. And he’ll always be my brother…even if he hates me.
I’m getting emotional writing this, so I’ll stop. But if you don’t mind, I do have a question for you. Are you seeing anyone? (Is that too weird to ask?) I’m asking because if you ARE seeing someone, I hope he treats you right. I hope he’s the complete opposite of me.
Hope to hear from you soon,
J
*
“Funny Girl? You said this was your favorite?” Emmett asked Tallie, slipping the DVD case off the shelf and holding it up.
“Definitely.”
“Do you want to watch it?”
“It’s pretty long.”
“I don’t mind if you don’t. Seems relaxing,” he said, flipping it over. “I’m guessing it’s funny?” He smiled, looking at her.
“You’re clever,” she said. “You were upset earlier, when the lights went out. You’re feeling better?”
“I feel like being quiet, watching this, if that’s okay. I’m really comfortable here.”
“It’s hygge. You’ve heard of it? The Danish word? It’s about making things cozy, comforting. It’s like an American fad now, but sort of a way of life for some people. Making things as comfy as possible…it’s what I do—” Tallie stopped and changed the expression on her face, like an engine slowing, then revving back up. “I use the idea of it in my classroom.”
“I’ve never heard of it, but I feel it here. It’s overwhelming. And I mean that as a compliment,” Emmett said.
“I accept it.”
(The jumping candlelight cuts through the rising tea-mug steam. The steam looks like cartoon smoke. Six tea lights in a half-moon on the table. The walls of Tallie’s living room are the color of creamed coffee.)
*
They started Funny Girl, and Tallie picked up her knitting and began slipping the needles and yarn through her fingers. Fast. She barely glanced at it, knitting around and around, scooting small neon-colored plastic markers across the cord connecting the needles when she got to them. Emmett watched, appreciating how soothing and hypnotic it was. She mouthed along with parts of the dialogue—the songs, too. He enjoyed it for a while but soon found he couldn’t focus. He hated that he’d contacted Joel, the subterfuge of it. If Tallie got something out of the emails she couldn’t have gotten otherwise, when he left her, he wouldn’t feel so guilty. Even when he did dumb shit, his tender conscience was a crutch. It’d plagued him his whole life. He took on other people’s emotions, absorbed them without wanting to, like an abandoned sponge.