Not Today, But Someday(48)

“Well, that was easy!” I exclaim.

“Was it?” he asks, getting back on the road.

“It looked easy.”

“I have a feeling that my end of this bargain is going to be easier than yours, Em. And I have a physical dependence on these to deal with. But I’m serious about it. You get that, right?”

“Yeah,” I tell him. I do get it.

“You may have to be my aspirin supplier for a few days,” he says.

“Gladly. What are going to do for me?” I ask him.

“Anything you need, Em. Whatever it takes.”





CHAPTER 16 - NATE





Pulling up to my house, I’m relieved to see that Victor isn’t here. Regardless, I take the parking spot in the detached garage. I leave the windows cracked in the Ferrari and walk slowly toward the front door. Even though I just smoked my last cigarette– hopefully– I’d rather not reek of tobacco when I walk inside. Mom had stopped lecturing me, but she was still generous with the looks of disapproval.

“I apologize for my mother in advance,” I tell Emi as I sit down on the top step of the porch, giving us a little more time to air out our clothes.

“What do you mean?” Emi stands in front of me, causing me to squint to see her, with the glare of the sun peeking over her shoulder. Her hair looks like the sunlight itself.

“She likes to be involved in my life, so she may not leave us alone.”

“Donna was very nice before,” she says with assurance.

I’d wondered if Emi regretted telling her so much the last time she was here, when she was sad and distraught and emotional about her family. “You don’t feel like she was prying?”

“I feel like she was welcoming,” Emi says. “Comforting, even.” It makes me smile, hearing this.

“Good.”

“I like her,” Emi confirms.

“Great.”

“Does she not trust me?” she asks, suddenly self-conscious. “Is that why she won’t leave us alone?”

“No, it’s nothing like that. I think she said you were sweet. You’ve got her fooled,” I joke with her. She kicks my foot with hers. “See? She doesn’t know you at all,” I laugh.

She stomps quickly up the steps past me and walks straight into the house. I should have mentioned to her why I was stalling, but it’s too late. I follow her inside.

“I’m sorry,” Emi says, abruptly stopping as she meets our housekeeper in the foyer.

“Elsa,” I say, walking past them both toward the kitchen, “this is my friend, Emi.”

“Good afternoon, Emi.”

“Hi,” I hear her say softly. “Nice to meet you.” Her heavy boots clop against the hardwood floors as she follows me through the house.

“Can you keep it down?” I joke with her, nodding at her feet as I grab a glass out of the cupboard. “Want a drink?”

“Sure,” she says. “Water?”

“Sure.” I take a second glass and fill both of them, handing her one when I’m finished.

“Emily,” Mom says as she joins us, “how has your first official week been?”

“Not bad,” she answers.

“How are things at home?”

“Okay,” Emi says with a smile. “Thank you again for letting me take refuge in your house last weekend. My mother was angry, but grateful that I had a safe place to stay.”

“You’re welcome. Nathan?” Mom says, nodding in my direction.

“Yeah?”

She doesn’t say anything, but she looks at me skeptically and crinkles her nose a few times. I roll my eyes at her, hoping it’s the last time she’ll have to give me that look. As much pleasure as I’ve gotten from smoking, I don’t like disappointing her.

“What’s for dinner?” I ask. “And can Emi stay?”

Emi looks from me to my mother uncomfortably. “It’s okay, I can–”

“Pasta primavera,” Mom says, “and I insist you stay,” she says to Emi. My friend smiles and nods. “Are you a vegetarian, too?”

“No, ma’am,” she says, “although it may be awhile before I eat a chicken sandwich again.”

“Nathan, you didn’t tell her about the paste...” I shrug my shoulders and take a sip of my water. “You’ll poison yourself with tar and nicotine, but you’ll judge other people for eating perfectly fortifying meat.”

“He’s quitting,” Emi says cheerfully.

“He’s what?”

“Quitting. He just had his last cigarette–”

“I didn’t–” I don’t know why I even try to lie. I can’t cover up the smell, or the look of guilt that I’m sure is painted across my face. “Alright, I did.”

“What made you decide this?” Mom asks, her smile growing.

“I made a deal with her,” I motion toward Emi, trying to be casual. Mom had tried for months to get me to give up the habit. I’d never even told her I’d try. She clearly looks surprised.

“I like this girl,” my mother says, much to Emi’s delight. Mom puts her arm across Emi’s shoulders. “You made a deal, you say. What’s your end of the bargain?” she asks as she looks at my friend.