Oneshot fic about Emily's life as a teenager. Gilmore Girls isn't mine! Hope you enjoy it.
Emily walks down the school corridor, her sandals echoing on the floor. She puts on her jacket, slips her bookbag over her shoulder and is just getting her ticket ready for the bus when a voice calls,
"Emily, wait up!"
Emily turns to see her best friend, Carrie, running to meet her. Her red hair is flying as she exclaims,
"Ride home with me!"
"I was going to get the bus," Emily says doubtfully and Carrie laughs, shaking her head.
"Don't be silly. My car's right there."
Emily bites her lip. Most of the boys at school have cars now and some of the girls, but Emily's father won't buy her one. He says women don't need to know how to drive. Emily hates taking the bus but not as much as she dislikes being pitied. Still, the sky is dark, threatening rain any minute and Emily nods. A ride with her friend beats waiting for the bus, which is frequently late.
"Thanks."
"Sure. Come on, it's going to rain any second!"
They run outside but, just as Carrie gets her keys out, Chuck Harrington saunters over and says,
"Hey."
"Oh, hey Chuck," Carrie says, giggling her words. "Emily and I were just going home."
Chuck and Carrie have been dating for six months but Emily has never warmed to him. He always talks over them and, when she mentioned it to Carrie, she said she didn't mind, that she always liked hearing him. The opinion is not mutual.
"Hey, Emily," Chuck says. He purposefully sticks his chest out to show off his Letterman jacket and Emily says coldly,
"Hello."
Chuck grins but Emily doesn't return a smile. She's waiting for Carrie to open the car when Chuck suggests,
"Say, why don't you girls ride with me?"
"Oh - well, my car's right here," Carrie says. "And I need to get to school tomorrow."
"I'll drive you. Come on, what do you say?"
Carrie smiles, turns to Emily and pleads with her eyes.
"I'll take the bus," Emily says shortly but Carrie exclaims,
"Don't be silly, Chuck will drop you off! Won't you?"
"It'd be my pleasure," Chuck drawls. "My car's this way."
They follow Chuck to his shining red Mustang. Emily climbs in the back, putting her book bag carefully at her feet, and Carrie throws her own haphazardly beside her. She climbs in front and Chuck races out of the carpark at a breakneck speed. Emily sucks in her breath and Carrie shrieks with laughter, gasping as Chuck screeches to a stop.
"Oh Chuck! That was so exciting! Wasn't it exciting, Emily?"
"If you like the taste of vomit," Emily says, swallowing the bile. "I don't suppose you have any water?"
"How about a milkshake?" Chuck asks, opening the door. "With a burger and fries?"
Emily looks with distaste at the diner they've parked by. It's new in town and the most popular place to hang out after school, but Emily loathes it. The smell of grease gets in her hair and clothes and she'll take coffee over milkshake any day, She suggests this to Chuck but he simply laughs, getting out of the car.
"Two shakes coming up."
He returns shortly with a bag of fries and two milkshakes. Emily drinks hers in three gulps, looking away as Chuck and Carrie share theirs, giggling and feed each other fries. Bored, Emily reaches for her book and starts reading but gives up as a fry flies from in front of her, hitting her in the chest.
"Chuck, I need to go home," Emily says irritably. "It's getting late."
"It's not even dark yet."
"I want to get my assignments done."
Chuck simply stares and starts laughing.
"Chuck, don't," Carrie says, giggling guilitily. "I promised to give Emily a ride, it's not fair. We need to drop her off."
"Fine," Chuck says, starting the car up. "But to do your assignments?"
"I like getting them out of the way before dinner."
"Boy, are you a pill," Chuch remarks. He speeds out of the parking lot and down the street until Emily calls,
"Here's fine. I can walk the rest of the way."
"Emily, Chuck can drive to your house."
"I know. I'd like to walk, thank you. See you tomorrow."
Emily gets out, slipping her bookbag over her shoulder. Carrie waves but her attention soon wanes as Chuck starts the engine, and Emily hears her squeal all down the street.
The dark clouds start to thunder and soon heavy drops fall on Emily's head. Hurrying, she wishes she'd taken the bus. It's slow and smells but it gets her where she needs to be. The rain is pouring heavily by the time Emily reaches her house and she takes out her key, opening the heavy oak door.
The house is still. Bertha, the maid, is nowhere to be seen and there is no sign of her parents or sister. Emily assumes they are cloistered in their respective rooms and, grateful for quiet, takes off her wet shoes and peels off her sodden stockings. She is just approaching the stairs when her mother appears, perfumed in her lavender gown.
"Darling!" she exclaims. "You're soaked!"
"It's raining," Emily says shortly and her mother clicks her tongue.
"Well, I deduced that. I expected you back earlier."
"The bus was late."
Emily doesn't feel like going into her irritation over Chuck and Carrie. Her mother thwarts her as she tries to move past and says,
"Emily, you shouldn't be barelegged in the house."
"Mother, my stockings are wet through. You always tell me off for dripping water."
"You should have waited for me or Bertha," her mother says simply, ignoring her daughter's protest that neither were there. "Now hurry and change."
She takes the stockings and shoes and looks pointedly until Emily has reached the landing. Emily is so annoyed that she doesn't notice for a moment that her sister, Hopie, isn't there, but when she does it considerably lifts her mood. Hopie always plays obnoxious records and Emily can never do her homework in peace. Brightened, Emily changes her skirt, sweater and slips on a fresh pair of stockings before putting on her day shoes and running downstairs. Her hand is on her bookbag when she is halted by a voice called,
"Emily, come sit with me."
Her mother is standing by the door to the living room and, forcing her frustration back, Emily stands up and goes over to her.
"That's much better," her mother approves as Emily goes to sit down. "You should always be properly dressed."
"Mother, I only took my stockings off because they were wet."
"Don't argue dear. Would you like a cup of tea?"
"I would love some coffee."
"Emily, you know you're too young to drink coffee."
"I'm seventeen. You let Timothy drink coffee when he and Aunt Sylvia came at Christmas and he was sixteen. I'm going to be eighteen this year."
"Emily, don't quibble," her mother says. She's smiling but there's a sharpness to her tone. "We'll enjoy a cup of tea."
She rings the bell and Emily sits back in the rose-coloured chair. The living room is her mother's domain and everything is pink with a gold trim. Bertha appears with a tray and her mother thanks her, taking the china cups and passing one to her daughter. Bertha nods and disappears without a word and as the door closes, Emily lets out a breath. There's something about Bertha which makes her nervous. She's been working for her family as long as Emily can remember but, unlike her friends, she doesn't feel close to the maid. Bertha never played with her and, on an occasion where she looked after her, slapped her hard around the face when she reached for a cookie and smashed a milk jug. Her parents won't get rid of her though. They say it would be too much trouble to find someone new.
"Where's Hopie?" Emily asks, sipping the tea and her mother answers,
"She's at her friend Alice's house. She'll be home for dinner."
That gives Emily less than an hour. Putting her cup down, she says,
"Mother, if Hopie's out I'd like to start my homework. She never lets me do it in peace."
"Oh Emily, you just came in here."
"I know, Mother, but she always plays records or hums to herself or reads magazines."
"Now, how can that be noisy?" her mother laughs and Emily sighs.
"It is. Hopie does everything loudly. Mother, I need to do my assignments in peace and you won't let me do them in here or the kitchen and if Hopie's home for dinner -"
"You manage every other day," her mother interrupts. "How can your assignments be so important?"
"I like learning," Emily says simply. Her mother looks at her oddly, smiles and sighs.
"You are such a strange child."
Emily waits but her mother doesn't give her permission to go. She sips more of her tea and asks,
"How was school?"
"It was fine. I've got a lot of work."
Her mother takes the hint and nods.
"Go on, then. I have to say, Emily, it's no wonder your friends don't call you. You'll never be popular if all you want to be is smart."
Ignoring the sting, Emily leaves the room. Even though she fights it, hot tears spring from her eyes and down her cheeks as she takes her bag and runs upstairs. Her mother always tells her off for being 'too smart'. Last spring, a boy from school asked her to a movie and, when asked what she thought of it, she told him how the plot was foolish and the characters dull. He never called again and her mother said what he really wanted to hear was that she'd had a good time, and that he didn't care what she'd thought of the picture. Emily argued that that was ridiculous and her mother said that was how it worked. You have to say what they want to hear, dear. No man likes a know-it-all.
Once upstairs, Emily gets her books out. The rain is still falling steadily outside and she feels calm as she starts to work. It's so rare for the bedroom to be quiet, with so little disturbance, and Emily gets her work done in half the time. As she gets out her math book a program for Smith College falls out and Emily swallows. She is planning on attending there in fall and is somewhere between excited and terrified. Her father grudgingly agreed that she should go to college, as it is proper, but remarked that women didn't really need an education after all. He would not be disappointed if she didn't attend but Emily is determined. She opens the math book, starts to concentrate, and jumps in surprise when the bell for dinner rings.
Her sister and mother are already seated at the table as Emily arrives. Her father is at the head, newspaper open, and ignores his wife as she says,
"Do put the newspaper away, dear. We're about to eat."
Emily's father reads a little more and then puts the paper down as the roast lamb is brought over.
"There. I don't need instruction from my wife."
Emily's mother blushes slightly but she doesn't say anything as she starts to eat. Emily is annoyed on her behalf but knows there is no point in defending her. Her parents both turn on her for that. They have only eaten a little when her father picks up the newspaper again and exclaims,
"Look at this!"
"Dear -"
"Camilla, look at these women! They're dressed like men, in slacks, and they're putting unnatural things in their bodies! Look at this!"
"Pearce, I'm eating."
"Have you seen this article?"
"No, I have not."
"They're taking a pill, destroying their bodies, to stop having babies! They want it to be approved for everyone! It is utterly unnatural!"
"Pearce," Emily's mother says sharply, looking at Emily and Hopie, but her father goes on,
"Well, would you want our daughters to be taking such a thing?"
"Of course not, but this isn't the time or place. Emily and Hopie are far too sensible for that."
"Well, why not?" Emily interrupts. "Why shouldn't they take it?"
Her father puts the paper down, staring at her.
"Excuse me?"
"Father, you know Mrs Andrews died after expecting another baby. You know she wasn't supposed to have any more children and she said it wasn't expected and -"
"That's enough," Emily's father says roughly. "That's for husbands to take care of."
"Men don't have babies," Emily retorts. She hears her mother gasp and her father turns to her, furious.
"Do you see this, Camilla? One of your daughters has become a feminist and I daresay your second is on her way. Hopie? What do you have to say about this?"
"I won't ever get married," Hopie says dreamily. "I shall move to France and play nothing but the piano."
"There you have it," their father says, spreading his hands out. "Two daughters lost to the cause already. What will it be next, Emily? Living in a commune with men who grow their hair long? Declaring you want to go out and work? Why, I suppose you'll never marry either. You'll be taking that pill and making me a laughing stock. You're already more interested in books than men."
"Pearce, calm down," her mother says suddenly, just as a lump grows in Emily's throat. "It's only an article in a newspaper."
"No, Camilla, it is not," her father snaps. "You have no idea. First, that pill was to help with women's trouble at that time of the month. That is reasonable, anyone would agree, but now it's being used to stop having babies. It's going to encourage sexual intercourse and all sorts of relation outside marriage. It's not natural and I won't have it. Men should work and women should care for babies in the home, not dress like men and take all their jobs. It's preposterous. It's absurd."
"Very well," her mother says simply. "You're right, of course, Pearce. How was work today? Let's eat before the meat gets cold."
Emily forces herself to finish the lamb and stay for dessert. She longs to run upstairs and cry but refuses to let her father know he's upset her. She won't give him the satisfaction. Truly, she cannot see what is so wrong with this pill. When she was ten her mother almost died from losing a baby, and knows there was a similar case when she was small. She doesn't wish to live in a commune, nor to never marry. All she wants is to know she will never go through what her mother has, or Mrs Andrews, and not to have a marriage like her parents'. Her mother agrees with her father, simpering at every smile, and never speaks her mind. If Emily does marry, it will be with a man who listens and values her opinion and, if she never finds one, so be it. She will not be like her mother, nor Carrie with Chuck.
Once dinner is over, she and Hopie traipse upstairs to their bedroom. Emily sits at the desk, Hopie on the twin bed, and has only answered one problem before Hopie remarks,
"You shouldn't wind up Father like that."
"I wasn't winding him up," Emily says, not looking round. "I just didn't agree with him."
"That is winding him up. You know how he is."
"He won't let anyone disagree with him. He gets angry if we ever say what we think."
"Which is why we should stay silent."
"I'm not shutting up for Father."
"It makes a quiet life," her sister remarks. Emily ignores this, moving onto the next problem, but soon her sister opens a magazine, humming to herself and flipping through the pages, and Emily can't stand it. Whirling round, she exclaims,
"Hopie, stop it."
"Stop what?"
"You know what!"
"Reading?"
"Making noise! You're humming! You always hum when you read!"
"I can't help it."
"Yes, you can. I need to finish this assignment. Stop humming and let me work."
"I think I know why Father wants you to be quiet," her sister says cattily. Emily narrows her eyes but before she can retort the door opens and Bertha comes in.
"Telephone," she says primly. Hopie starts to get up but Bertha shakes her head. "It's for Miss Emily."
"Me?" Emily asks stupidly and Hopie echoes,
"Her?"
"The young man was very clear," Bertha says. She steps out, closing the door, and Hopie squeaks,
"A boy called for you?"
Ignoring her, Emily gets up and and goes into the hall. Wiping her hands on her skirt, she picks up the heavy black receiver and says nervously,
"Hello?"
"Is that Emily?"
"Yes, of course it is. Who's this?"
"Stuart," the boy says shyly. "From class."
Stuart! Emily remembers now. She lent him her geography textbook for him to take notes from during lunch.
"Hi," she says unsurely and Stuart replies,
"I just wanted to thank you. You know, for earlier. I was able to finish my work on the Panama Canal."
"That's fine." Emily is starting to wonder why Stuart didn't just thank her in class when he says,
"Are you busy tomorrow? It's Friday and I wondered if you wanted to go out. There's a new movie playing and I wondered if you wanted to go see it. With me, I mean."
"I know. I mean, I know that's what you meant."
"So would you like to go with me?"
"Yes. Thank you."
"Great," Stuart says, sounding relieved. "I'll take you after school."
"How did you find my number?"
"What? Oh, Chuck gave it to me. He got it from his girlfriend."
Emily doesn't know whether to thank or strangle Carrie. She has an odd urge to do both.
"I'll see you tomorrow," she says and hangs up the phone. She is starting back to the stairs, light in her step, when her mother appears.
"Who was that?"
"Oh - just Carrie," Emily lies. "She wanted help with homework. I'm going over after school tomorrow."
Her mother nods and Emily hurries upstairs. It's easier not to tell the truth. If she does, her mother will fuss over what she wears and what to say, like last time. Emily doesn't want it spoiled.
Hope leaps up the minute Emily comes in, instantly at her sister's side.
"Who was it? What did he want?"
"Some guy from school. He's taking me to a movie tomorrow."
"You?" Hopie exclaims. "This is so unfair. I'm going to die. No boys ever ask me out."
"You're fourteen. Now shut up and let me concentrate."
"You're finishing your homework?" Hopie wails. "At a time like this?"
"It's just a date," Emily says stoutly. "And if you breathe a word of this to Mother or Father I'll tell them about the time I caught you with their medical encyclopaedia and you were looking up reproduction."
Hopie looks stunned but says coolly,
"I thought it was just a date."
"I'll tell them how you were looking at male anatomy too," Emily threatens and Hope snaps,
"Fine, I won't say anything. You're so weird."
"Better than a moron," Emily says. Her sister scowls and returns to her magazine, Emily to her homework, and though Hopie hums, she's able to finish with ease.
The next morning Emily gets up an hour early. She heats water for a bath, terrified her parents will wake, and curls her hair. She's just picked out her best blue dress when Hopie stirs, staring at her over the blankets.
"I thought you didn't care so much."
"I just want to look good. Go back to sleep."
"I have to get up too now. It's nearly time to go."
Groaning, Emily dabs on some makeup. Her hair and eyes are a simple brown but she thinks she looks more interesting than usual. She stuffs her homework in her bag, runs downstairs and decides to skip breakfast, partly from nerves and partly because she cannot face her mother or Bertha. Her hand is on the door when her mother exclaims,
"Emily, you look so pretty! What's the occasion?"
"Oh - no reason," Emily hedges. "I just wanted to dress up."
"I highly approve," her mother says, smiling. "It's about time you tried to catch a man's eye."
Emily doesn't reply but closes her eyes. Without knowing anything her mother still ruins things.
School is both long and too fast at the same time. Classes pass in a blur, but the end of the day never comes. Carrie, for the first time, doesn't sit with her at lunch and for once Emily is relieved. Then school is let out and Stuart stands by the doors, waiting.
"Ready?"
"Let's go."
He smiles at Emily, looking for a moment as though he's about to offer his arm before changing his mind. Emily moves closer, affectionatly, and smiles as he opens the car door for her. Stuart drives more sensibly than Chuck does and, to her relief, doesn't talk at all through the film.
Afterwards, they walk slowly back to the car. Before getting in Stuart asks,
"What did you think of the movie?"
"It was pretty good."
"Yeah?"
"Yes."
Emily talks about what she thought and Stuart smiles. He listens and listens, and when she stops for breath, Stuart leans over, cups her face and kisses her. It's a nice kiss, soft and strong, and he opens his mouth so his tongue catches hers. Emily knows this what they call French kissing and it's much more pleasant than she was led to believe. Her first kiss, and so much better than she imagined.
"Thank you," she says, when they stop and Stuart laughs.
"Thank you?"
"Yes, thank you," Emily says, smiling. "It was a very nice kiss."
Stuart laughs again and opens the car door, waiting for Emily to get in. He drives her home and they lapse into silence. Looking down, Emily sees yesterday's newspaper on the floor, and sees the same article her father got so angry about.
"Oh, have you read that?"
"Read what?"
"The newspaper down there."
Stuart looks down and shakes his head.
"My father borrowed the car last night. It's his."
"Oh. Well, my father got irate about it at dinner. Have you heard about the pill?"
"What about it?"
"It lets women decide when they want babies. I think it's a very good idea and my father doesn't."
"Right."
"Right, what?"
"Nothing. I'm just agreeing."
"With who? Me or my father?"
"I don't know," Stuart says. "Isn't it advanced?"
"Advanced? It's 1960! Just think, by the time I've left school I can choose how many babies I'd want. I think that's wonderful. And that's not the only new kind of wonders science is discovering."
"What, do you want to be a scientist?"
"No, I want to study History. I'm not good enough at Science, but isn't it fascinating?"
"Well, sure. I mean, it's all fascinating."
"Like this pill. What do you think?"
"Jeez, would you give it a rest?" Stuart demands. "It's Friday night, Emily."
"What does that mean?" Emily asks, a little surprised, and Stuart exclaims,
"It means I wanted to take you out for a movie."
"You did!"
"And we went from a nice, simple discussion about that to wonders of the science age!"
"Stuart," Emily asks, lip trembling, "what did I do wrong?"
"You never let a fellow carry a conversation."
"That's not fair," Emily snaps. "I asked you what you thought about the pill and you didn't say anything."
"What am I supposed to know? That's women's stuff."
"Oh, so when it comes to conversation and knowing things that's your arena but when it's something you don't understand it's just women's stuff?"
"Chuck was right," Stuart remarks, leaning back in his seat. "He said you were a pill - just didn't add you were obsessed with them."
A hot rush of anger speeds down Emily's neck and she snaps,
"Take me home, Stuart."
"You've got it."
Stuart drives her back almost as fast as Chuck does and, as he parks, he comments,
"You know, Chuck and Carrie have been steady for months. I was going to ask if you wanted to go steady too but you're exhausting."
"And you're a bore. Goodnight."
Slamming her way out of the car, Emily goes up her house and pushes open the door. Her hopes of being alone are shattered as her mother enters the hall and asks,
"How was your date?"
"How did you know?" Emily asks but her answer is given as Bertha walks past them, giving Emily a wicked smile. She hates her more than she thought possible.
"Darling, why didn't you tell me?"
"I don't know. I just wanted it to be special. I'm sorry I lied - I only wanted it to be private."
Emily puts her purse down and her mother says,
"I understand. Well, was he nice?"
"No," her daughter says bluntly. "He was a jerk."
"Now, Emily. It was one date."
"You don't even know what he did!"
"And what did he do?"
"Yelled at me for having an opinion."
Emily regrets the words as soon as they're out. Her mother looks at her and shakes her head.
"You were smart with him, weren't you?"
"I spoke my mind, Mother. Why shouldn't I?"
"Because it's not attractive."
"I guess I won't get married then."
"Emily!"
"Mother, I can't be with someone who doesn't value what I think," Emily says desperately. "Don't you understand?"
"Your father values me very much."
"He doesn't like it when you disagree with him."
"Well, he's a busy man, dear. He just wants to come home to a family without argument."
"More like a lapdog."
"Emily! Don't you dare speak to me like that!"
"Mother, I'm sorry," Emily says quietly. "I just don't understand. Isn't it boring? For both of you? I want to be with someone I can talk with. I don't want him to agree with me all the time, but I want him to listen. What do you and Father talk about?"
Her mother frowns for a moment and then says,
"We talk about the household, and you girls, and where to vacation. We have our own worlds, dear. I'm happy to stay out of politics and business and being in charge. It tires me."
"I find it so interesting. I want to know it all."
"Oh, Emily. You should have been a boy. We all expected it - our first son. And then you were a girl, and your father was so disappointed, yet you're as strong-willed and opinionated as a boy could be. You were supposed to be my son."
"No, Mother," Emily says firmly, after a pause. "I'm your daughter and I was always supposed to be a girl."
Walking away, she goes upstairs and ignores her mother's cry of,
"I'm so scared you'll never get married!"
Hopie is lying on the bed but gets up as Emily comes in.
"How was it?"
"It was rotten," Emily says, taking her dress off.
"Really? All of it?"
"The movie was fine. He didn't try and put his arm around me or anything. He kissed me afterwards."
"Did you want him to? What was it like?"
"I did want him to, and it was good. It was perfect."
"Then why was it rotten?"
"He isn't the kind of boy I like and I'm not his kind of girl. Don't hold your breath, Hopie. Dating isn't so great."
Her sister stares and then, without a word, goes over and hugs Emily who is standing in her slip.
"Any guy would be lucky to have you," she says fiercely. "Mother and Father don't know a thing."
Emily kisses her cheek, surprised, and laughs as Hopie interjects,
"Even if you are so obsessed with homework."
The next day Carrie comes over. She's bright in the eye and asks Emily if they can talk alone. Curious, Emily goes with her to the local park and they sit on a bench.
"Look," Carrie says, holding out her hand. On her left finger is a silver ring and Emily sucks in her breath.
"Is that -?"
"Chuck asked me to marry him!" Carrie cries. "He took me over to the bleachers during yesterday lunchtime and asked me and I said yes. We'll get married right after graduation."
"But why?" Emily can't help asking. "You didn't - you're not in trouble, are you?"
Marcia Abrams got in trouble last semester. She had to leave school and get married and Emily last saw her in the grocery store a month ago, big in the stomach with a sour look in her eyes. There was a rumour that Shelia Dunprhy was in trouble too, but she left school for a week and came back as normal, only now she always skips volleyball and says she has women's trouble. Carrie shakes her head.
"No - we just wanted to."
"Carrie, that's insane," Emily can't help saying. It's madness to marry now, if you aren't in trouble. A child needs a mother and a father, but if Carrie isn't expecting a baby there's no need. "You're too young!"
"I am not! We're in love!"
"Can't it wait until college?"
"We don't want to wait that long."
"You definitely haven't done that with him?"
It's a rhetorical question but Carrie hesitates and Emily groans,
"You are in trouble."
"Of course I'm not. It barely counted."
"When?"
"Last week."
"Did you use anything?"
"Well, Chuck had a rubber but he said it was terribly uncomfortable, and nothing happens the first time. You know what they say."
"Tell that to Marcia!"
"Emily, it was hardly - it was barely intercourse," Carrie whispers. "It was only for a moment, and it wasn't how the books say."
"And how was it?"
"It hurt a lot but Chuck says it won't next time. Anyway, we want to get married. I said the next time we should be. It'll make it more special."
"What are you going to do about stopping babies? If Chuck won't use a rubber?"
"Emily, you're terribly unromantic," Carrie says, amused. "Chuck will take care of it."
"You should get the pill."
"The what?"
"The contraceptive pill. It'll stop you getting pregnant."
"Oh, I don't like the thought of that," Carrie says with a shudder. "Anyway, we'll be married in June."
Emily looks at her best friend and sees her future: three children at twenty-one and no way to stop more. Carrie looks back and says anxiously,
"Say you're happy for me?"
"I hope it works out," Emily says honestly and her friend shakes her head.
"You're impossible."
"So are you still going to have the wedding you wanted when we were kids?" Emily asks. "With violets at the place settings and an ivory gown?"
"You know we can't afford that," Carrie says sadly. "What about you, Emily? Still holding out for lilies and orchids with a silver bow wrapped around them for your bouquet?"
"You know I am. Nothing less."
"Do you still want to marry Errol Flynn?"
"I think I've moved on from the pirate guy."
Carrie smiles and asks,
"How was your date with Stuart?"
"He was a jerk. He got angry when I started talking about the newspaper."
"Emily! Why do you always do that? Let the man do the talking."
"I'd sooner not date."
"Emily, you have to. How else will you meet someone?"
"I'm going to college."
"And get married then?"
"Not until after graduation."
"But you'll be so old by then!"
"I'll have an education."
"Emily, if you get married you won't need it. Don't you want kids? A husband? What will you need knowing facts and equations for?"
"You know, I probably won't - need it every day, I mean. But I'd like to have it. I want to know things. I want to talk with my husband and know what I'm talking about."
"Why?"
"Don't you?"
"I just want to marry Chuck. I don't like school anyway."
Emily nods and Carrie looks at her.
"We're still best friends, aren't we?"
"Of course," Emily says, but she can feel something has changed. Carrie sits back, satisfied, and says,
"Good, because I'd love for you to be a bridesmaid. Anyway, I wanted to tell you first."
"Congratulations," Emily says, hugging her. Carrie is happy but, as Emily walks away, she has a strange urge to start crying.
Emily is glad to walk home alone. The day is warm and sunny and she walks slowly, thinking. She does want a husband and children, one day, but not in exchange for her mind. She never imagined it had to be one or the other and, if it comes down to it, Emily knows which she'll choose. Surely she will meet someone of similar thought? Emily imagines a day, in the future, with her own child and, if it's a girl, she'll never discourage her daughter from learning. She'll let her read the paper and develop her mind and encourage debate at the dinner table. She'll never pretend to her husband that she doesn't have an opinion, or try and be less smart for him. She wants a partner in every sense of the word and is determined to have it and, if not, she'll be content alone.
When Emily gets home her mother is standing in the hallway, holding a pair of trousers, and for a moment Emily is sure she has the wrong house.
"Mother?"
"Oh, Emily, you surprised me," her mother says guiltily and Emily exclaims,
"What are you doing with pants?"
"They came free with my clothing brochure," her mother says. "They're considering a line of pants for women. I didn't think anyone would see me. Hopie's just gone out."
"Have you tried them on? Mother, try them on!"
Her mother hesitates and then, smiling, lifts her dress and steps into the pants. Zipping them up, she gathers her skirts around them and says,
"Well?"
"I think you look fabulous."
"Emily," her mother laughs. She turns to look at herself in the mirror and Emily asks,
"Are you keeping them?"
"I don't think so. They look strange."
"They look great. If you don't want them can I have them?"
"Emily, you know your father doesn't like women in slacks."
"Can I take them to college? Father won't see me in them then."
"Well -"
A door opens and her father emerges from his study.
"What's all this? Camilla, what on earth are you doing in pants?"
"They came free with my clothes brochure."
"You aren't keeping them, I hope."
"You know I'm not."
Her father nods at his wife and daughter before disappearing into the kitchen and her mother unzips the trousers, quickly taking them off.
"And I've got a run in my stockings. How foolish."
"You should have taken them off."
"You know I never disrobe in the hall."
She smiles at her daughter, to show she's not annoyed, and Emily says,
"Carrie's getting married. That's what she told me."
"Really? But she's so young."
Emily nods and her mother sighs.
"I see. Well, I hope you're not so foolish, Emily. Don't confuse that sort of thing for love. I do want you to get married but out of high school first. You should date but nothing further. That kind of thing is reserved for marriage, and not at your age. Carrie should know."
"It may not be that," Emily says and her mother comments,
"But it may, and if not it will be soon. She's a child herself."
Emily nods and her mother sighs.
"I do hope you meet a man in college."
"It's not what I'm going for, Mother."
"I know, but still. I daresay you'll take up all the things your father despises."
"I'll leave the commune, how's that?"
"Oh, Emily. I don't know what to say to you at times."
Emily looks at her mother but can't say anything back. Sometimes, it's as if her mother is two different people. There's the funny, thoughtful woman standing before her and then the lady who defers to Emily's father and keeps her mind hushed. There is no use in trying to understand. No explanation could appease.
"I'm going upstairs," Emily says. "I didn't have time to do my homework last night."
"Alright, dear," her mother says, folding the trousers and handing them to her. "Take these, if you like."
"Really?"
"I hear it's the fashion these days."
Emily's mother smiles as she goes up the stairs and, heart thudding with excitement, Emily shuts the door and tries them on. They fit perfectly and Emily admires herself in the mirror. Taking them off, she hides them in the closet before her sister finds them and sits at the desk. The Smith program catches her eye once more and for a moment, Emily allows herself to dream. Learning at college and being all she can be. She is more than ready. She was made with this mind.