His replies were like crack at the moment. Every time one came through, there was me almost sitting on the laptop, ready to reply right away. I wasn't sure I liked the accuracy of that mental picture.
Emma,
Ha, I knew you couldn't resist checking out my picture, to see if my wit and humour matched my looks. I don't know why I am still awake, I have a big day tomorrow, I should have been asleep hours ago. Actually I do know why I am still awake. Though I won't burden you with my family issues.
I found some more articles which might help your essay. I need to watch myself here though, I'm bordering on giving you too much assistance.
Simon.
My eyes grazed past the clock. 12. 09am.
Happy bubbly normal Emma was elated that Simon was obviously still up, and thinking about her. Anxious, nervous Emma was wondering why her professor was up at 12:09 emailing a student. And what did he mean about family issues?
Vodka. I needed vodka.
Anxious nervous Emma couldn't handle her alcohol, and right now, we needed her gone.
I jumped up and raided Tom’s stash, the one he didn't think I knew about, behind the cheerio’s’. One time I'd become so desperate to replace his stash I'd filled a half full bottle of vodka with water. If he ever noticed, he never said anything to me about it.
I inspected the fridge to see what I could mix it with. Milk, gah. And the thought of orange juice and vodka made my stomach turn. Apple juice? Would that work? I decided to risk it. The flavour was surprisingly refreshing. Maybe I'd just stumbled upon the next big thing in mixer drinks.
I read his email. Twice. He had such nice words. I giggled to myself. Nice words? The alcohol was obviously going straight to my head. In the back of my mind I was worried he might stop emailing me because it was inappropriate. Sure, there were lines we were crossing, but we were emailing each other in the middle of the night. Something was going on. I wasn't sure I could stop this, even if I wanted to.
Hi Simon,
Easy solution. No more helping me then. Don't mention the course or cases in your emails. I really do love hearing from you, so I hope this won’t stop you from emailing. In reference to your picture, yes your looks certainly do match your wit and humour, but is that necessarily a good thing? ;)
If talking about your family issues with a stranger helps, then talk away. I know I feel better sometimes after a good chat. We can't be strong all the time. Believe me, I've tried :)
Emma
An hour and he still hadn't replied. It was going on 1:30. The obvious answer was that he had gone to sleep. My head was sorting through all sorts of ridiculous scenarios as to why he hadn't replied, none of them were pretty. Five more minutes, I decided. Who was I kidding? I'd wait all night for a reply if that's what it took.
It was a good thing I didn't have his address as I'd probably drive past to see if lights were on. Oh wait. That's right. Damn agoraphobia. My chances of being a stalker were fairly limited. I wondered if I paid a taxi would they drive past his house.
Are you still awake?
One single line. Of course I was awake. Awake for as long as you will be emailing me, I thought. If he'd emailed five minutes later I'd have probably employed the services of the NY taxi fleet.
Yes
There. One word. No sign of slightly psychotic Emma in that reply.
I was confused. What the hell was going on? I impatiently stared at my inbox, waiting for a response.
The sudden vibration of my phone on the glass coffee table sounded incredibly loud in the silence of my living room. As anyone who receives a call in the wee hours of the morning would, I began to panic, all the worst things in the world that could have happened were whirling through my head. Gran had died. Or there was an accident. Or he had somehow found me.
I stared at the phone as it continued to ring.
Chapter Five
"Hello?' I whispered hoarsely. What if it was him? I forced myself to stay calm. He hadn't even been granted parole yet. There was no way in hell it could be him. No way.
I could feel the acid rising up from my stomach, regardless. Apparently my nerves were not interested in logic. Tom. I should have woken Tom. He was so much better at these situations than I was. Or maybe I just handled things better with Tom around.
"Emma? A voice. A male voice. He sounded familiar, not enough for me to place his voice. I felt the colour drain from my face. I slid to the floor before my wobbling legs buckled under me. I was on the verge of crying.
"Who is this?" My body wasn't yet ready to let go of the expectation of bad news. This man was probably a doctor calling to tell my whole family had perished in a fire. Surely there was a study supporting the effectiveness of using an attractive voice or person when delivering bad news? Or, maybe it was him. It had been ten years since I'd heard his voice. I swore I'd never forget it. Maybe I had though. At age ten, surely his voice would sound different compared to now? Maybe my hearing had developed so much that-