Meet Cute(77)

Oh, how wrong I am. Emme won’t come out of her room for anything. Not even food. By dinnertime on Saturday I’m fed up with the standoff. I open the door to her room and find her lying in her bed, facing the wall, exactly as she was last night. I have to wonder if she’s moved at all. “You have to eat.”

“I’m not hungry.”

“I’m not leaving this room until you come downstairs and eat something.”

“Fine. Stand there all night for all I care.”

“You can be angry at me and hate me all you want, but you’re not going to starve yourself.” My voice breaks at the hate me part.

She stiffens but her shoulders deflate and she rolls over. “Fine.”

Her hair is a wild mess, and she still has streaks of black eyeliner rimming her eyes, which are puffy and red. I’m pretty sure I look almost the same, minus the eyeliner. She stomps past me and I follow her to the kitchen.

“I ordered pizza.”

“I’ll have cereal, thanks.”

She opens the fridge, pulls out the milk and a box of crappy sugary stuff, slamming it down on the table. I lean against the counter as she grabs a bowl and spoon and crosses over to the island. She doesn’t bother to sit down. Instead, she pours herself a bowl and shovels it into her mouth, barely chewing. I imagine she’s starving and this standoff is meant to torment me. Once she’s inhaled the cereal, she puts everything away, staunchly avoiding eye contact.

“We can’t fix this problem if you’re not talking to me, Emme.”

“Why should I bother? You don’t believe anything I say, anyway.”

“I need an answer that makes sense, Emme.”

“Well, I don’t have one, so I guess there’s nothing to say.” And with that she stomps back up to her room and slams her door. I’ve about had it with the damn door slamming.

Even though I’m not particularly hungry, I nab a slice of pizza and flop down on the couch. Emme’s phone is still where I left it. The screen flashes with an incoming message. She has loads of them from her friends from last night, one from that Jimmy kid and about fifteen from Clark.

After a conversation about privacy and me being responsible for her phone bills, she grudgingly gave me her password and free rein to check her messages. As I scroll, I note a message from Kailyn.

I key in the code and check the message. It was sent last night, probably around the same time I dropped Kailyn off. I was a complete asshole to her, and haven’t heard from her at all today. I assume she’s giving me space.

Usually when I go through messages Emme is here with me so it feels a lot less like I’m snooping. Guilt creeps up the back of my neck as I read through the last messages to Kailyn.



Emme: Is Dax mad at u cuz of me

Kailyn: No, honey, Dax is upset about the situation.

Emme: Cn u come over tmrw

Kailyn: I think you and Dax need to work this out.

Emme: Can I still msg u

Kailyn: You should ask Dax if that’s okay.

Emme: k Im sry I ruined 2nite

Kailyn: you didn’t ruin anything <3

Emme: almst home. Talk l8r



I read them over and over, trying to see inside them. What was I doing? What was Kailyn doing? All this time spent with Emme, and if we didn’t work out, what happened then? Once the custody issue is finally resolved, Kailyn won’t have a reason to be part of our lives. Would she stay in Emme’s life anyway? Fuck. My head is everywhere right now. And Kailyn is really the last place it should be. I should be worried about Emme getting caught with booze and where or whom she got it from, and who else Emme is protecting.

Around ten Kailyn messages asking if I’m okay.

I send one back to let her know Emme is grounded and I’ve confiscated all of her electronics, and that I need to focus my energy and attention on her.

Twenty long minutes go by before she responds. This time I get two words.

Kailyn: I understand



I’m not sure why they’re so painful when I’m the one pushing her away.





Sunday is more of the same. Emme avoids me apart from coming down once to shove a giant bowl of cereal in her face, and then disappears back into her room. At this point it’s a battle of wills.

After calling all the other parents, it’s confirmed that no one is missing a bottle of vodka—so it means someone bought it for them. The question is who?

I check the messages from her friends, hoping to get the answers Emme refuses to provide. Mostly the messages are about getting yelled at, and how no one knows where the vodka came from. Ainsley asks if Emme actually brought it “cuz grounded 4ev.”

None of her friends seem likely to encourage that kind of behavior, which leaves me with the same questions and no answer.

At four in the afternoon, Felix shows up with a six-pack. There’s some irony in that, but I’m not going to say no considering the weekend I’ve had.

“You look like a bag of shit.”

“Thanks.”

“Where’s the underage booze thief?”

I turn and smack his arm. “Shut up, asshole.”

“Sorry. Shit.” He looks around as if he’s expecting to see her. “Is she down here?”

“She’s in her room.”

“So why are you telling me to shut up?”