Not Today, But Someday(38)

He’s still got tears in his eyes when he stands up and holds his arms out. “Let me try.”

“No,” I tell him softly. “I don’t have a daddy anymore,” I cry. “Just a father. A father that I really don’t want to see anymore.”

He drops his arms and nods. “I love you, Emily. You’re my baby girl. And I’m not giving up.” He picks up the chair and takes it back to my brother’s room. “But I’ll leave you to your homework tonight. Your mom will be home soon, and she doesn’t want to see me.”

“That makes two of us.” I can barely force the words out. I know how hurtful they are. Saying them makes me cry even harder, to the point that my father is just a blur as he descends the steps. I hear the front door close and lock, and then there’s silence again.

When I finally can breathe normally, I try to call two of my closest friends back home. Neither Casey nor Rebecca answer, and I assume they’re together, at rehearsal. I stare back down at the phone and scan through the recent calls in the caller ID. Donna Wilson. I hit the call button and pray that Nate will answer. He doesn’t. Instead, a recording requests me to leave a message. I consider hanging up, but I think he’ll call me back. I think he might actually care about me.

“Nate, it’s Emi,” I say, unable to stave off the tears. “I just needed to talk to someone.” My voice is almost a tiny squeak, and I suddenly wish I hadn’t decided to leave a message. I clear my throat. “If you’re not too busy, can you call me?” I hang up before the sobs erupt again.

Chris comes to check on me when he gets home. I haven’t moved an inch, still curled up on my bed, cradling the phone, the pillow soaked with tears.

“Wanna talk?” he asks. I shake my head. “If you change your mind–”

“I know, you’re three feet away,” I say sarcastically. “I’m going to sleep.”

Mom stops in and kisses me on the forehead, apologizing quietly in my ear. “We’ll get through this.” I start crying again, wishing I could stop. My head hurts and I just want to sleep. After an hour, my eyes heavy, I finally put the phone back on its dock and crawl under the covers.





At lunch the next day, Chris and I both catch up on homework that didn’t get done the previous night. I finish my portion of the book, and have my list ready for the costume shop. I’ve been looking forward to my after-school plans all day. They’ve kept my mind off my dad, thankfully.

I feel a little nervous, though, seeing Nate. I wonder why he never called me back last night. Maybe he doesn’t care as much as I thought he did. Maybe he thinks I’m a complete freak. Maybe his mom hates me, and didn’t give him the message. I just hope it’s not awkward in art class. The first bell rings, and Chris and I both pack up our books.

“Remember that I don’t need a ride after school,” I tell him, starting to walk out of the cafeteria.

“Remember I vetoed him!” he calls out to me. I turn around, curious.

“No you didn’t.”

“The first guy you met. I told you I would.”

“And I told you it was a waste,” I respond, shrugging my shoulders. “We’re just going to get props for class. We’re just friends. So veto him all you want, I don’t care.”

He smiles mischievously at me. “Call if you’re going to be later than seven. Don’t make Mom worry.”

“Fine.” As I walk to art, I look around at the students passing me, looking at all the guys with a critical eye. If I had any desire to have a boyfriend, Chris really did waste that veto. Nate’s harmless compared to most of these guys. I can see it in their eyes.

I’d grown used to the smell of leather and tobacco, and miss it ten minutes into class. He was that late the first day, so maybe he just got tied up. Surely he’ll be here. We have plans. I concentrate on inking the letters, using a light box that had been collecting dust in a back closet. Mrs. Martin was happy to see someone using it. I’m glad she has it, even though the bright light and the smell of ink are making my still-lingering headache worse.

And Nate never shows up. I consider asking our teacher if she’s heard anything, but I don’t. I just hope I can catch Chris before he leaves, or else I’ll have to walk home.

What if he’s avoiding me? What if I’m the reason he didn’t come? Because he felt I was too needy, and he wanted some distance? I feel so stupid, and find it impossible to concentrate on any of the lectures the rest of the day.

In gym, we’re doing sprints. At least for short bursts of time, my focus is on not falling flat on my face in front of everyone. Somehow, I actually win a couple of rounds, and some of the girls are congratulating me. Some are actually friendly. By the last half-hour, I’m chastising myself for worrying so much about him. He’s just a guy I met Friday. Why do I care?

Because I thought he did.

In the locker room, I hurry to get dressed so I can attempt to find Chris. I shouldn’t have taken a shower. What’s the point, if I’m just going home anyway?

“Thanks, Misty, for letting someone else have a shot with him.” A girl’s voice echoes through the room. “He’s everything you said he’d be.”

“I don’t lie about that,” another girl says. I peek from behind my locker and see the two girls that had been in the hallway with Nate on Friday. I listen more intently, realizing they know Nate and remembering the visceral reaction he had to this Misty girl when she kissed that other guy in front of him. “In fact, I’m having second thoughts about dumping him. Clark’s tiny compared to him. Sometimes I’m not even sure he’s in.” I look away quickly, embarrassed to be overhearing this conversation. Surely they’re not talking about Nate.