Meet Cute(76)

I let Emme out of the car. She’s still crying, little hiccupping sobs that make her shoulders shake. She hugs her bag to her chest, hair falling forward to cover her face as she follows me to the front door. I motion to the living room couch. “Have a seat.”

Emme tosses her backpack on the floor, bottom lip trembling. “I don’t want to have a seat. I want Kailyn, and you took her home!”

“Well, you’ve got me instead, so sit down and start explaining what the hell you were thinking.”

“I wasn’t thinking anything because I didn’t do anything wrong!” she shouts.

“Really? Because the evidence is to the contrary.” I’m fighting to stay in control, and losing the battle.

“I didn’t steal the vodka!” Emme says, for what feels like the millionth time.

“Stop lying to me,” I yell, anger finally winning out.

“I’m not lying!”

“How the hell did a bottle of fucking Grey Goose manage to get in your goddamn bag, then?”

“I don’t know! Check your damn liquor cabinet.” She dashes away more tears.

“You sure you want me to do that?”

“Yes!”

Emme crosses her arms over her chest as I wrench the door open, bottles clinking against each other. Front and center is the Grey Goose, still sealed because liquor has never really been my thing, except for the occasional glass of scotch at a special event.

“See! It’s right there! I told you I didn’t steal your stupid vodka!”

“Where did that bottle come from, then? Did one of you take it from your friend’s house? And there’s no point in lying, either, Emme, because I’ll be calling to make sure all of their alcohol is in their liquor cabinets, too.”

“I don’t know where the fuck it came from!” she screams.

“Watch your goddamn language.” I realize I’m being a hypocrite and that losing my cool is making this situation worse.

“You swear all the goddamn time!”

“You know what? You’re grounded until further notice. Leave your phone on the coffee table. And there will be no laptop and no TV until you’re honest about what happened tonight.”

“Well, I guess I’ll be grounded forever because I already told you the truth and you don’t believe me.” She slams her phone down on the coffee table.

“Stop covering for your friends, Emme. They’re not going to help you out of this one.”

“Fuck you! You’re not my dad and you never will be, so stop pretending you are.” She clenches her fists, eye wild and angry. “I wish I’d been in the car with them when they died. It would be better than living with you!”

Her words feel like punches to the heart. “Emme! Don’t say that.”

She pauses with her hand on the banister, tears streaming down her face. “Why not? You want me to be honest, right? Well, I hate everything about being here. I hate living with you! I hate you!”

My chest constricts with her admission, and I stumble back a step as if the words are a physical slap. Her eyes flare and she spins around, her sobs stilted as she rushes up the stairs. The door to her room slams.

I close my eyes and choke on my emotions. I want to force Emme to take her words back. I want to make sense of what happened tonight. But the reality is, if I’d been paying more attention to something other than my own needs, I might have seen it.

I cross over to the couch and sit down, pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes, as if it will stop the emotion from leaking out. I don’t know what to do, or how to fix this.

I slip my phone out of my pocket. I have a message from Kailyn. Her response matches mine. One single word. A simple thanks.

God, I’ve screwed this up, too. My entire life is one giant clusterfuck. I want to ask Kailyn how to make this better, but maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I’ve been relying too much on her when I should be trying to manage on my own.

I stare at the screen until it goes blank again. Then I sit on the couch, eyes fixed on nothing, wishing my life were different.

I’ve ruined everything. Every single thing I’ve done tonight has made this worse. Linda will undoubtedly use it against me, and maybe she has a right to.

I knock on Emme’s door before I go to bed, but she doesn’t answer. I peek inside and find her curled up under her comforter with her back to the door. “Em? I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

She remains silent, even though I have a feeling she’s still awake. I cross the room and put a hand on her shoulder.

She jerks away. “Leave me alone.”

“Em.”

“Just go away.” Her body trembles as she fights another sob.

I don’t want to leave, but I don’t know what else to do for her without making this terrible situation even worse. I close the door and sit down in the hall, listening to her cry, wishing I knew how to be better at this.





The next morning I discover just how early in life the wrath of women begins. I figure after a night to cool off and some sleep, we’ll be able to talk it out.

Emme’s laptop is in the hallway when I wake up, which I take as a good sign. I assume it to mean she’s willing to accept the consequences of her actions without a fight. I also stupidly believe it means a conversation without yelling is next.