Not Today, But Someday(30)

“I know it’s not ideal,” Mom says, “but it’s the best we can do right now.”

“Why’d he get the house? There’s more of us.”

“Because I don’t want it. She’s been there. That woman was in my home, and I don’t want to be there anymore.” I didn’t know that. “It’s just a year and a half, Em. And then you’ll go to college and have all the freedom in the world. And next year, it’ll just be me and you,” she says. “That’ll give you a little more space.” I know she’s trying to be helpful, but being without Chris scares me. I smile to be polite.

“I want to learn how to drive, Mom. I want a car.”

“Well, we can enroll you in lessons this summer, but you’re on your own with the car.”

“But you got Chris a car.”

“Your father and I helped Chris get a used car so he could work last summer. But that was before all of this happened. I’m not sure we can afford it now... and you’d have to get a job to help pay for it.”

“I could, over the summer. I just want to be able to go places.”

“I understand. I’ll look into the lessons. But with a car, you definitely can’t just leave without telling someone where you’re going. Do you understand?”

“Yes. I’m sorry, Mom. I was just angry.”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just grateful Mrs. Wilson called us. I was just about to go to the police.”

“I would have called you myself,” I tell her. “I’m not that inconsiderate.”

“Did you meet up with that boy?” Mom asks, squinting her eyes as if the answer might be difficult to hear.

“Not intentionally. I just went to this ice cream shop. I was reading for my lit assignment. He just showed up.”

“He was at Nino’s when Joey and I were there. He was out front when Jen pulled up,” Chris says. “Was he eavesdropping?”

“I don’t know,” I tell him honestly. “He overheard you somehow, because he told me you guys were looking for me.”

“He’s in your art class?” Chris asks. “So you met him Friday?”

“My seat’s right next to his, so yeah.”

“Why didn’t he just bring you home?”

“Because I told him I didn’t want to come. He tried to.”

“And what did you two do?” my mother asks.

“Nothing,” I groan. “I went to sleep. I was exhausted.”

“Where’d you sleep?” Jen asks.

“Not that it’s any of your business, but they have a mansion and I slept in a guest room.” I want them to know I was safe, and alone. I don’t want them to be threatened by Nate. I don’t want to ruin my chances of hanging out with him again.

“A mansion?”

“Yeah, his mom is very wealthy.”

“Are his parents divorced, too?”

“No, his dad passed away.” My mom nods. “Do you think it would be okay if we could do this third degree thing after I take a shower? I want to get out of these clothes.” The last thing I wanted to do this morning was put my scratchy sweater back on when Nate’s t-shirts had been so soft and comforting– and they smelled nice, too.

“Yeah,” Mom sighs. She stands as I do. “I’m just so happy you’re okay.”





After I bathe, I find my sister making my bed.

“Did you sleep here?” She nods. “With Josh?”

“No.” She frowns a little. “He left.”

“For good, I hope,” I mutter, pulling the towel tighter around my body as I go into the closet. Finding a soft sweatshirt, I remove it from the hanger, then look around for some jeans. I find a worn-in pair folded on top of a short tower of cubby shelves. “Mom did my laundry for me?”

“She was up all night, Emi. Please don’t ever do–”

“I got it!” I interrupt her. “I won’t, alright? This is easier for you. You’ve been out of the house for three years.”

“It doesn’t make it easier, seeing our parents’ marriage fail.”

“I don’t mean that. The living situation.”

“Can you get over that, Emi? Can you try to realize what’s important? Who gives a shit that you had to get rid of your queen size bed, and that you had to keep your summer clothes at his house? I don’t care. They don’t care. Dad was the only man Mom ever dated. Do you realize that? Can you imagine being her age with three kids, faced with putting them through college? She’s been a housewife all her life! She has to get a job! Someday, she’ll have to start dating–”

“Well you can help her with that.”

“Why are you so mad at me, Emi?”

“You can do better than Josh,” I tell her. “You can do better than all the guys you bring around us. They don’t respect you. You don’t even respect yourself.” I glance at her shirt– more specifically at the deep V neckline that leaves little to the imagination. “Look how you dress–”

“That’s enough.” The throws down the pillow she had been gripping.

“You asked.”