A Hope for Emily

“You’re smarter than this,” Naomi urges. “Savvier. Surely you realize what will happen if you do talk to James about it?”

I take another sip of my drink, wincing at the over-sweet taste that coats the inside of my mouth. “What will happen?” I’m curious to hear her opinion, considering she barely knows James and only heard about Emily a few minutes ago.

Naomi leans forward, her cocktail forgotten for a moment. “I’m certainly no expert on relationships, but even I can see this is a disaster waiting to happen.”

“Oh?”

“Rachel and Emily—they’re just not your business, Eva. If that sounds mean, sorry, but that’s the way it is.”

“Rachel has made them my business, at least for now.”

“But she shouldn’t have, and you shouldn’t have agreed. Do you actually think James will listen to you about this?”

I recoil a bit at that. “Why shouldn’t he?”

“Has he asked your opinion already?” Naomi counters. “Is this something you’ve already discussed? Does he value your input on how he conducts his relationship with his daughter and ex-wife?”

She speaks so knowingly, even though I haven’t told her about the cone of silence around James and me when it comes to Emily. To Rachel. I feel exposed, even though I haven’t said anything.

“No, he hasn’t,” I say with dignity, “but that doesn’t mean it has to be that way.”

Naomi shakes her head. “Put yourself in James’ place. You have a kid with your ex, it’s all kinds of difficult, and your new husband butts in and tells you how you should be handling that relationship, handling your own daughter, even though they’ve never even met your child.”

My cheeks start to warm. She makes me sound like some kind of awful busybody. “I wouldn’t be butting in.”

“Yes, you would. Don’t you think James has a good reason for not pursuing this experimental treatment, whatever it is? Don’t you think he’s thought it through?”

“Nerve stimulation. And I don’t know if he has.” I looked it up online. Besides a few articles in Scientific American and the like, there wasn’t much information, but I ended up down a rabbit hole of internet clicks, leading me on to articles on brain function and current research and the fact that there is so very much we don’t know. There was even an article about a guy in a coma who was actually conscious the whole time, but couldn’t communicate. It sounded utterly terrifying, and yet I can see from Rachel’s perspective how it might be the tiniest bit hopeful. A chink in the darkness. A chance.

“Well, assuming James isn’t some kind of uncaring sociopath, which he didn’t seem to be when we had dinner last month, I assume he wants the best for his daughter?” Naomi raises one eyebrow, all cool sarcasm.

“Of course he does.” I do believe this, utterly. I can’t imagine the devastation of not believing it. That, more than anything, would wreck my marriage.

“So he clearly has already decided what the best is,” Naomi points out, oh so reasonably. “He’s thought this through, Eva. Of course he has. Why would you want to weigh in with your two cents?”

“Because I’m his wife.” I’m annoyed by how dismissive Naomi is of my opinion, my worth. Judging from her tone, she believes utterly that James would not value my opinion on this matter. And the worst thing is, I think she’s probably right. But surely it isn’t meant to be that way?

“And you spoke to Rachel, for what, five minutes?”

More like fifteen, but I shrug. “What’s your point?”

“Don’t you think James has researched this, probably a lot? Don’t you think there are things you haven’t considered, that you can’t know, based on what little Rachel said?”

Of course there are, because I hardly know anything. “Rachel thinks it’s worth pursuing, and I know she’ll have done as much if not way more research than James. Emily is her whole life.”

“Which suggests something kind of unhealthy, don’t you think? I doubt she has proper perspective anymore.”

I think of Rachel’s frenetic energy, the intensity I saw in her eyes as she asked me to talk to James. Naomi is probably right, but I don’t blame Rachel for how she is. Wouldn’t any mother—any loving mother—be the same? “And you think James does have proper perspective?” I ask.

Naomi shrugs and sips her drink. “Maybe. The point is, Eva, you don’t need to get tangled up in this. It’s only going to end badly for you, with James feeling annoyed or resentful or worse. I might not be married, but I’ve dated enough guys with exes to know they do not like you getting involved. Ever.”

I roll the stem of my glass between my palms, sifting Naomi’s words in my head, separating the wheat from the chaff. “But what if it’s not about what’s best for me?” I finally say. Naomi looks distinctly nonplussed. “What if it’s about what’s best for Emily?”

She lets out an exasperated sigh. “And you think you know what that is?”

“I think Rachel might.” And I think James might not. The realization jolts through me. Why do I think that? What does that even mean?

Naomi th