He tapped on my window, forcing me to roll it down. “You okay?”
“No,” I huffed, still unable to look at him. “My car won’t start.”
“I’ll give you a ride,” he responded. “Then I’ll take a look at it later.”
I hesitated, glancing at my watch. I knew Sara and Evan were already on their way to school, and it didn’t make sense to have them come all the way out here to get me.
“Please, just let me drive you to school,” Jonathan requested fervently when I didn’t answer.
“Fine,” I huffed. I opened my car door and slammed it in frustration. I tossed my book bag on the floor of his passenger side before pulling myself up onto the seat. I shut the door and fastened my seatbelt, determined to ignore him.
We drove down the street and out of the neighborhood without a word.
“Can we talk about it?” Jonathan finally pleaded, turning down the radio when the tense silence became too much.
“No,” I snapped. “I definitely do not want to talk about it.”
But after only ten seconds, I turned toward him and practically yelled, “Why are you doing this to her, Jonathan? I don’t understand!”
“I… I know,” he stuttered. “I couldn’t end it. I knew it would make things worse.”
“So you’d rather torture her by making her fall more in love with you so you can dump her right before you leave. That’s real great!” I shot back, my anger rising with each word.
“Emma, please don’t be mad at me,” he begged. “That's not what I want, really. I just… wasn’t ready.”
“Prolonging the inevitable isn't helping her,” I lectured sternly. “It’s torturing her. You can’t protect her forever. You’re coddling her.”
“And you aren’t?” he rebutted, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but nothing came out. In truth, I didn’t really know what he meant. He continued, his voice growing stronger, “Emma, you clean up after her when she throws a fit; you comfort her when she's irresponsible, and the other night she basically accused you of ruining her life. You’re protecting her as much as I am.”
I continued to stare.
“I’m sorry,” he said, his tone softening. “I shouldn't have said that.”
I let his words soak in. He pulled into the parking lot of the school, stopping alongside the walkway that wrapped around the building. Putting the truck in park, he turned toward me. His brown eyes were heavy with apology.
“So how do we fix this?” I questioned glumly. “Besides having sex with her.” The words flew out of my mouth before I could catch them, delivered with a bite that I didn't anticipate.
“Uh,” Jonathan stammered, shock flashing across his eyes. “You should never have seen that. I’m so sorry.”
I clenched my teeth and stared at the floor, more disturbed by his actions than I could rationalize as heat rushed through my chest. “So now what?”
“You're right,” he answered firmly. “I have to end things with her.”
I flipped my eyes toward him, not convinced he meant it.
“Should I still wait until after her birthday?”
I groaned. I hadn’t thought of that. “I don’t know.”
Our eyes connected in deliberation until I realized I was lingering too long and blinked away.
“Thanks for the ride.” I reached down to pick up my backpack and it struck me, “My sweater.”
“Huh?" Jonathan didn't follow.
“What were you doing with my sweater?” I demanded.
Jonathan took in my hardened expression. "I found it on the chair on the front porch when I was leaving for work a while ago. I thought it was Rachel’s. I honestly forgot I had it.”
“Oh,” I replied, my cheeks reddening at my accusatory tone. What was I really insinuating anyway? Maybe all this drama was making me overreact. I reached for the door handle, spotting Evan a few rows away, shutting his car door. I smiled at the sight of him. Then Analise appeared, shutting the passenger door. My heart froze and my smile disappeared.
“Are you okay?” Jonathan asked, noticing the change. I remained motionless, at a loss for words. “Emma?”
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I choked, gripping the strap to my backpack. I opened the door.
“Emma,” Jonathan beckoned before I could hop down. His eyes held me captive long enough to confess, “She’s not the reason I decided to stay.”
“Emma?” Evan hollered as I was about to ask what he meant. I hesitated for a second, but knew I had to leave.
“Thanks,” I choked, barely able to form words. I hopped down from the truck and shut the door behind me.
As Jonathan drove off, Evan emerged from behind the truck.
His eyes tightened. “Was that Jonathan?” He found my hand and securely laced his fingers through mine.
“My car wouldn’t start,” I explained, trying to ignore Analise on the other side of him.
“Want me to take a look at it later?”
“That’s okay,” I replied. “Jonathan said he would, but thanks.” Evan nodded slightly, his eyes following Jonathan's truck as it pulled onto the street.
“Hi, Emma,” Analise chirped, poking her head around to flash her blinding smile.
“Hi, Analise,” I acknowledged impassively. “Where’s your car?”
“Evan and I are doing some work for Vivian after school, so we thought it made sense for him to drive me,” she announced. As I listened, my feet faltered. Evan clearly saw the stunned expression on my face.
“That’s great,” I replied flatly. Analise went her separate way toward the junior lockers as Evan continued toward mine.
“You’re upset,” Evan noted as soon as Analise was out of earshot.
“No,” I mumbled, not looking at him. “I’m just flustered because of my car.”
“Good morning,” Sara interrupted. “How are you…” Her eyes flipped from me to Evan and she pressed her lips together. “Um… I see that you’re not into mornings. I’ll talk to you later.” She nodded knowingly and took off to class.
I pulled my books from my locker, unable to face Evan without giving away just how much his time with Analise bothered me.
“Em, you don’t have to―”
“I have to go to class,” I uttered, brushing past him quickly. This morning sucked. I just wanted this day to be over, and it had barely begun.
Sara was waiting for me around the corner. “I’m coming over tonight. We're talking about this whole Analise situation.”
“Okay,” I sighed, knowing I needed it.
The day didn’t get any better when Analise plopped her fluffy ass down at our table for lunch. Sara eyed her in disbelief, like she’d trampled over all sorts of boundaries. Sara opened her mouth to say something but I shot her a pleading look and begged in a whisper, “Don’t.”
“You sure?” she confirmed incredulously. I nodded just as Evan sat down between me and Analise.
The awkward silence lingered until Analise broke it with, “This food looks better than Mrs. Timmins dinner last night, huh?” She let out a light laugh. “That was the strangest version of chicken I’ve ever seen. You should have seen it, Emma. I think it was grey. Right, Evan?”
I couldn’t move. I knew Evan was watching me, but I remained still.
“What dinner?” Sara instigated, staring at me, silently begging me to speak up.
“Oh one of those business dinner thingys,” Analise gushed with a nervous laugh, realizing she must have said something wrong.
“What did you think of it?” I asked, feigning curiosity with a strained smile.
Analise hesitated. Probably trying to decide if I was sincere or about to rip her head off. “It was actually pretty nice. Stuart and Vivian are so sweet, so they made it easy. And Evan can talk to anyone and he introduced me to a lot of people, so it wasn’t as bad as I feared it would be. We ended up having a really great time.”
I stood from the table and stormed out of the cafeteria. I’d barely made it to the hall when Evan caught up with me.
“It was just a stupid dinner for my father’s firm,” Evan explained in a rush.
“Yup.” I responded flatly and kept walking, not caring if he was next to me or not. I remained stoic on the outside, but my insides were squirming―I thought I was about to be sick.
“Em, stop,” he begged. “Please, just listen.”
I turned abruptly and provided him my full, cold and distant attention. He drew back when he saw the disconnect in my eyes.
“My mother wanted Laura to meet some potential clients affiliated with my father’s firm,” he explained calmly. “Analise just came along with her mother. It’s not as bad as it sounds.”
I turned and started walking again, choking on the fumes of anger that cut off all logic and rationalization to my head. I could only feel, not think―and I was afraid if I opened my mouth, I would regret anything I said.
“Besides, you hate those dinners,” Evan hollered after me.
I spun around. “So did you,” I bit back and rushed off, leaving him behind.
"Hey, Emma," Jill said from beside my locker as I forcefully pulled the books from the top shelf, grumbling to myself about how I couldn't believe Evan took Analise to a firm dinner. "How's Rachel?"
I whipped my head to the side. It took every ounce of willpower I had not to snap at her. To tell her to mind her own business. But I swallowed the anger and said, "Fine."
"We never told anyone about the drinking," she assured me. Her voice was low, careful not to be overheard. Her words struck me as odd. My eyes twitched, questioning. Her face filled with sympathy.
Then it hit me, Omigod. She thinks my mother's an alcoholic.
"Thanks," I replied quickly, needing to look away as the heat crept across my face.
"We shouldn't have done what we did," she continued. "Casey and me. I'm sorry about that."
"Yeah sure," I muttered, my stomach twisting in knots.
"If you ever need to talk," she offered consolingly, making me want to turn from her and run as fast as I could.
"Yup," I answered shortly. "See you in practice. I have to get to class."
"Oh yeah, sure," she replied uncomfortably, her cheeks slightly pink. I walked away with my head down, so people wouldn't notice how red I was.
I couldn't live in denial any longer, and it took Jill's word of solace to snap me out of it. Despite my mother's assurances that she was fine, she wasn't, and it was time I faced the truth. I wanted to believe her so much that I convinced myself that she only drank to excess when she was upset or sad―and that was okay. That was okay?! What was wrong with me?
"Hi, girls," my mother greeted cheerily from the kitchen when Sara and I arrived after practice.
"Hi, Rachel," Sara returned, setting her bag near the bottom of the stairs and walking into the kitchen. I followed after her, suddenly afraid to face my mother. It was like I was seeing her for the first time―noticing the wine glass next to her on the counter as she cut vegetables. The sight of it made my chest hurt.