Push(68)

My shoulders are hunched over my body, jolting sharply with each sob, and soon I feel a hand at the top of my back. It is resting there softly, slowly moving back and forth.
“Emma,” I hear. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?” It’s Matt. He is crouched down next to me, trying to look at my eyes. I straighten my back and wipe the tears away with my fingers.
“My stepfather died yesterday,” I say quietly. “I just found out.”
“Oh, Emma. I am so sorry,” he says. I can hear the compassion in his voice. I don’t want it.
“Don’t be,” I say. “The man was an *. I’m crying because I’m relieved. Not because I’m sad.”
“Oh,” he says. He looks very confused, and after a time, he stands up and puts his hands in his pockets. “Is there anything you need?”
“Just to get back to work,” I say. “But let me text David first and tell him what’s going on.” I smooth my hair back off my face and twist it down over the front of my shoulder. “Can you come back in a few minutes?”
“Sure. Are you sure you want to stick around today because I know they’ll be cool with you going home if you want to.”
“I’ll be fine. Really, I will,” I say with a small smile. Matt shakes his head at me and walks out of my cubicle. I reach for my cell phone.


Hi.


Hi back.


He’s dead.


What???


I called the hospital.


R u ok?


Yes.


Who told you?


A nurse. They took him off life support.


Wow. That’s some crazy shit.


I know.


Do u want to come tonight?


Thanks but no.


What r u going to do?


Chill out.


U sure?


Yes.


OK. But call if u need anything.


Will do.


Tomorrow night then?


Yes.


Sounds good.


I don’t know how to end it. The end of the last text I sent him was my “I love you.” Do I want to go there again? While I am thinking about what to type, my phone pings again.


U r one hell of a raven, Emma.


I don’t feel like a raven right now. A raven wouldn’t have cried like a f*cking idiot.


Sometimes I wonder.


I don’t.


I am thankful for David’s confidence. It makes me feel good inside. I flip my phone closed and tuck it back into my purse.
The rest of the workday proves to be a welcome distraction. Matt doesn’t ask me any more about Michael, nor does he try to make me feel better. He just talks when I reach out to him and stays quiet when I don’t. We are getting the hang of this, Matt and I. I wonder what David would think.
When I leave at the end of the day, Matt asks me if he will see me tonight.
“No,” I say. “I’m staying home. I’m just going to hang out by myself. Plus, I wouldn’t want a repeat of last Tuesday night, and I know you wouldn’t either.”
“It wasn’t so bad,” he says with a smile, “for me anyway.”
“Very funny,” I say with a smile of my own. I’m not sure why, but then I tell Matt to make sure David behaves tonight. He rolls his eyes at me and walks down the hallway.
“See you tomorrow, Emma,” he says with an overly dramatic sigh. “And take care of yourself.” I think he wants to tell me he’s sorry about Michael’s death, but he stops himself. I’m glad when he doesn’t say another word.
The bus ride home is boring, but the Silversun Pickups keep me company on my iPod, and when I get home I find that I am very much looking forward to spending the evening by myself. It’s been a long time since I’ve had time to myself. I’m considering my self-entertainment options when I open my apartment door. There, on my little table, is another small box. I instinctively reach up to my neck and touch the chain of the dog tags hanging beneath my shirt.
The thing is, I’m not worried about this package. It can’t be from Michael because he is gone. For the first time in over fifteen years, I am not drowning in dread over what he will do next. Plus, I already know that this box is from David. I can feel it.
I open it quickly, and wrapped inside I find a silver pendant. It is a raven. I turn it over in my hand, feeling the smooth metal and rubbing my thumb into its wings. The bird is curled into itself; its head is turned to the side, and its wings are folded down against its body. Its one exposed eye is made of a dark, velvety stone. I think that it must be Inuit or something. It’s beautiful.
I lift the dog tags up over my head, open the chain, and slide on the raven pendant. When the chain is back around my neck, I walk to my bedroom and look at myself in the mirror. The raven rests against my chest, on top of the dog tags. I look younger somehow. Less worn. Less worried. I feel powerful. I feel cared for.
I pull my phone from my pocket and send David a text. His reply is instant.


Hi.


Hi back.


Thank u.


U R welcome.


I love it.


Good.


I miss u.


Better.


And then I do it again. I already know what he is going to say because it is the same as the last time.


I love u.