Oh my goodness. I haven't overcome the damage she caused. This entire time I have been in denial. Jake was simply a way to pretend I was normal. This person that I am today is the same person my mother hated. This is the same person who truly feels unworthy. Seeing her brought all those feelings back to the surface and has made me realize that I can't truly be happy if I don't deal with this.
No wonder I have felt as if something is missing. It's clear that I keep finding ways for Jake and I to be over because deep down, I know that I'm not worthy. I'm not good enough for him. I'm not his best match as a girlfriend and that's why he wouldn't ask me to come with him. Starting with my toes, a numb sensation works it way up my body until that is all I feel. In bed, I lie, waiting for it to pass. All my “hard work” in denying that my mother and her evil deeds existed has exhausted me. Instantly, my eyes close.
I awake that afternoon to the sound of my door knob turning endlessly.
“Emily? Open the door, honey.” Immediately, Dad knows something is wrong. I rarely lock my door.
My lips are sealed tightly. If I speak, I'm afraid that voice will return. I can't do that. So my eyes close and I wait for my father to give up, which takes thirty minutes. The day passes by slowly. Dad tries repeatedly to get me to open my door. He evens gets Drake to persuade me. Nothing works.
Not talking to Jake isn't as hard as I thought it would be. I can handle the not talking part. I lived in those shoes for so long, stepping back into them is easy and almost comforting with the familiarity. I leave my room later that night to sneak out and get food and water. The next day comes with my mother's voice screaming in my head over and over that I haven't changed.
“Hon, are you going to pick Jake up from the airport?”
My alarm clock shows that it's ten in the morning and time to leave to pick up Jake. When I don't respond, Dad's footsteps recede. I don't want to see Jake. He will be so disappointed to discover my setback. But I can't fake it anymore. If I learned anything from my miscarriage, it is that faking only makes it worse. I just need a day or two more to figure out how I'm going to handle this. I have to deal with this. I want to be better. Really and truly better. No more faking. I'm done with that.
8
Jake
Here I am, back home after two weeks away, and I’m practically alone. Mike and Drake are waiting for me at baggage claims. The first thing I notice is that Emily's not with them. The second thing is that Mike looks madder than hell.
“What have you done now, Jake?”
Confusion causes my eyebrows to burrow.
“I swear, sometimes I think y’alls relationship is a bit toxic. Especially for her,” he continues.
“What are you talking about?”
“Don't bullshit me, Jake. She's been stuck in her room for two days. You've done something...” he trails off, quite possibly noticing my confusion. “You haven't talked to her? You haven't upset her?”
“No. She hasn't been answering my calls, but I figured she was just sleeping since it was so late. What's going on?”
“I think I know,” Drake speaks up quietly.
Mike and I both look down at my little brother.
“I overheard a woman talking to Emily the other morning. She didn't say anything mean to Emily, though. But after that, she locked herself in her room.”
“Why didn't you mention it before, Drake?” Mike asks.
Drake shrugs. “I was eavesdropping. I didn't want to get in trouble.”
“It had to have been her mom. I need to see her.”
“Good luck,” Mike answers.
The hour and a half drive from Raleigh feels like five, and I'm glad I was able to get my flight back switched to the Raleigh-Durham airport instead of Charlotte. Sure enough, Emily's door is locked, and she's not talking to anyone. I try and try, but no answer. There's no sound whatsoever coming from the other side of this door. Finally, I ask Mike if he will take Drake to the movies or something, so I can try to get through to Emily with the house empty.
“Sweetness, please open the door. Talk to me.”
Nothing.
After an hour, I sigh in defeat as I take a seat on the floor outside of her door. I hear a click. Have my ears deceived me? Quickly, I stand and slowly turn the knob to find out. The door creaks open. She’s laying in bed on her side, curled up in a ball. I lightly rap on the door twice to let her know that I'm coming in.
Without looking, she says in that quiet voice I hoped I would never hear again, “Shouldn’t you be at home?”
“I should be wherever you are.”