Being alone had never been so depressing and bittersweet. She'd had the foolish preconception that being alone would be good for her, that once she left Regina, she would be happier. That she'd be free from the chains that Regina kept her in. The past few months with her (soon to be ex) wife had been brutal. They would bicker about every little thing, and so in August, Emma decided that they needed space. Two weeks after that, Regina called to tell her she had filed for a divorce.
Living with her friend Ruby at the age of 34 wasn't exactly an ego boost. Emma didn't have enough money for a place of her own, since the insurance company she was working for didn't exactly pay a lot. And there was Henry to think about. He was Regina's and Emma son; they had planned for him together, and they both loved him dearly. He was sixteen now, and Emma got to see him on the weekends. He would usually come with his ear buds in stuck in his ears, and sit glumly at whatever place Emma decided to go—sometimes they would see a movie, or just go to Ruby's house. Henry liked that option a lot, but Emma didn't ask about why that was. She really didn't want to think about the fact that her son had a crush on her friend, even though it was obvious. A normal conversation between she and Henry usually consisted of Emma having to pull information out of him like a vacuum. It was exhausting.
On Monday, Emma drove Henry to school, and he got out without a word. She cringed. She knew he was mad about the fact that his parents were getting divorced; what kid wouldn't freak out about that? But she just wished he would talk to her about it. She tried to ask him about how he was holding up, but he would shut down and stay silent. Ruby was amazed at how awkward the dinners at her house could be, and Emma had to agree. Things were crazy with her family, and they would only get crazier.
Emma arrived at her crap job at BurnCo Insurance at 8:30, which was when she always showed up. Apparently, she didn't get the memo that her new boss expected her at 8 every day, and she got a stern talking to. Emma just nodded and grit her teeth, picturing setting her boss on fire and throwing her off of a cliff. That was usually how Emma handled anger. Since she knew she'd get in trouble if she acted on all of her violent urges, she just imagined it. It was a lot safer and sure to not get her fired.
At 3, Regina called to ask Emma to pick Henry up, and she agreed, wanting to spend more time with the kid. She left a note on her boss' desk and ducked out at 3:15.
Emma parked her car at the school, then got out and looked around for Henry. She texted him to come outside, and got a text back.
Srry, I have jazz band for another hour. Come back at 4:30. –H
Emma shut her phone. Since she was already at the school, it wouldn't hurt to go inside, just for a little bit. Storybrooke High was where she and Regina had gone to school, after all, and it was only natural to feel nostalgic about it. She had been on the soccer team, and she was good. She was offense, and was quick on her feet and really athletic. Of course, that was all past tense. The things that she had cared about, and dreamed about, weren't important anymore. She had dreamed of being a pro soccer player, but when she met Regina, that all fell to the wayside. Now she wondered if she'd made a mistake.
She walked down the tiled halls, stopping at a glass case labeled 1996. She looked at her seventeen year old self smiling up at her, and she envied that person. The carefree smile, and the way her future was still so bright—it made Emma sad. She sighed and leaned against the case, her hands leaving marks on the glass.
"Now I have to clean that up," she heard someone to her left say.
She turned and saw the janitor, a man probably in his fifties, giving her a creepy grin. She pushed off of the glass and looked at him apologetically. "Sorry, I was just looking…" Emma said, unable to keep her voice from breaking. It was stupid, mourning over the past. There was no way to go back, no way for things to be different.
"Thinking about missed opportunities?" The man read her mind.
"Uh...yeah, kind of."
"Do you wish you could go back?" The janitor asked, taking a weird interest in—whatever this was.
"I'd give anything to go back," Emma blurted, her certainty surprising herself. She clenched her fists, and words began to spill out. "My life is shit. My wife left me—well, technically, I left her first, but I didn't want to get a fucking divorce! And my son fucking hates me, and I have to live with my friend Ruby, who I know wants me out…plus she's little crazy sometimes—and I just wish—God, I wish I wasn't such a fucking idiot! So, yeah, I wish I could go back, and maybe get another shot." Emma breathed, not really caring that she had just confessed her whole personal life to a complete stranger. She was too emotionally drained to keep her walls up anymore.
"I see. Thank you, Miss Swan," the man said, turning and walking down the hall. "I know all I need to."
The blonde just glumly nodded, then her head snapped up. "Wait, how the hell do you know my name?"
The mysterious janitor had disappeared.
Emma frowned, but shook it off and walked back to her car. Her boss would get mad if she stayed out longer than was necessary. She would come back at 4:30; she got off of work at 4 anyway. Emma put the car in drive and drove back to the office, hoping her boss didn't notice that's she'd been gone for an hour.
But it was too much to hope for. The second that she walked into the air-conditioned heaven of the BurnCo office building, she could the feel the eyes of her coworkers on her. The whispers didn't do much for her nerves either, and she could feel goosebumps sprinting up and down her skin. It had nothing to do with the cool A/C. She looked around, wondering what was going on. She saw her boss come up to her, and suddenly things became a little clearer. Her stomach knotted in on itself.
"Emma, can we have a word?" Miss Blanchard gestured to her office. Emma nodded and followed, her boots feeling heavier than ever before.
She sat on the plush leather chair in the office, staring at the wall behind Miss Blanchard's head.
"It's come to my attention that you are lax in your duties here." Miss Blanchard fixed her with a slightly disapproving glare. "I know I've only been your boss for a week, but I had no idea my predecessor let you take hour long breaks in the middle of the day, and come in late. I also know that you haven't made a single sale this month."
"That's because I—"
"Please, let me finish. I think that this job isn't a good fit for you anymore. I fear you have some domestic issues to deal with, and it's tearing your focus from your job."
"Can't you just grant me leave for a while, to deal with my divorce and everything?" Emma asked. It was a little humiliating to beg, but she had to. If she didn't have a job, there was no way the courts would deem her as a fit parent for Henry. If she couldn't pay child support, she would never get joint custody. "Please," she added, her voice barely above a whisper. She was glad no one else was in the room.
"I'm afraid it doesn't work like that," Miss Blanchard said, and Emma sat there glumly, imagining the pixie haired woman drowning in a waterfall of rainbow glitter. That didn't seem to help.
"So…you're firing me." Emma said.
"Yes, I'm afraid so."
Emma balked at the sympathetic tone. She was sure it was fake. The woman practically just ruined her whole life, and she had the gall to pretend to care. Emma wanted to say "fuck you" but something held her back. She wasn't sure what, since she really had nothing to lose anymore. Somehow, she stood up and just walked out, not even registering the fact that people were staring at her.
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"So, Ems, how was your day?" Ruby asked, her cheeriness erupting into huge dimples. It would be nice if Emma hadn't just lost her job, her family and her house. She couldn't bring herself to smile, or anything. She gave Ruby a blank stare.
"Well, let's see..." Emma began. "My boss fired me, and Regina still won't spend two seconds in the same room with me. How was your day?"
Ruby faltered. "Oh, Ems, I'm sorry."
"It's okay—I really don't want to talk about it. I'd rather hear about you and your day."
"Well, not much to tell. The diner hired a new girl today, who still has a lot to learn about waitressing, let me tell you. If the customers are rude, she'd be rude right back to them."
Emma smirked. "I like the way she thinks."
Ruby rolled her eyes. "Good thing you're not in the restaurant business then," she joked.
Emma sobered. "Speaking of that, I'm going to need to start looking for a new job."
Ruby stood up, pulled her brown hair back into a ponytail, and started clearing the plates. "I'll help you."
They spent the evening poring over ads in the paper, circling ones that captured Emma's interest. She had worked in insurance for most of her life, and she had a degree in business, so she hoped she could get a decent job.
"Okay, so we have five possibilities so far," Ruby said, biting her lip. "You can start calling them tomorrow."
"Yeah," Emma said, sighing. She wasn't really enthusiastic about having to go back to the grind of trying to find a job; it was a particular brand of hell she didn't ever want to relive. But, alas, she never thought she'd be getting divorced either. Life had a way of fucking her over like that. "I'm going to bed."
"Good night, Emma,"
"Good night."
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Emma stretched, her chin moist from drool. She wiped her mouth and stretched. She liked to be able to sleep until she woke up naturally; she hadn't been able to do that on a weekday for quite some time. She kicked at her covers and walked over to her closet, picking out a red sox t-shirt and some black jeans. She walked to the bathroom, her feet almost tripping on the carpet. She looked at herself in the mirror—then she screamed.
Looking back at her was a total stranger. Her eyes were still green, and her hair blond, but—the face… it looked so different. She looked like she had when she was a teenager—skinnier, a little too tall for her frame, and…so not like herself. What the hell?
Emma screamed and screamed and screamed. She didn't stop screaming until Ruby banged on the bathroom door.
"Emma, are you okay? What's going on? Are you PMSing?"
Emma only wished she was. It would be a lot easier to explain than what was happening. She didn't even know what was going on.
"Um…I'm fine, go to work…I'll be fine."
There was silence on the other side of the door. "I'm coming in," Ruby said. Emma cringed as the door swung open, and Ruby looked at her, then screamed just like she had.
"WHO ARE YOU? GET OUT OF MY HOUSE!"
"No, Rubes, it's me, Emma, I—"
"YEAH RIGHT!" Ruby sprung forward, grabbing Emma by the shoulders. She started to pull her out into the hallway, with a strength that Emma didn't think Ruby possessed. She had beaten Ruby in arm wrestling so many times it was kind of sad.
Emma pulled out of Ruby's grasp, and tried to reason with her. "Ruby, it's me. You and I went to high school together, and you had a crush on the head cheerleader, Gigi."
"THAT PROVES NOTHING!" Ruby growled, making another lunge for Emma that she narrowly dodged.
"Okay—for Halloween our sophomore year, you went as Xena, and made me go as Gabrielle, even though I wanted to be Xena too," Emma said, frantically trying to put as much space as possible between her and her friend.
Ruby paused, as if thinking about it. Emma relaxed a little, but Ruby jumped at her, catching her off guard. They fell together onto the floor, knocking a picture down from a nearby shelf. As luck would have it, the picture was one of Ruby and Emma—when they were in high school. Ruby's eyes shifted from the picture to Emma's face, and she leapt off of her friend , her face contorted in confusion.
"What the flying fuck," Ruby gasped.
"I know," Emma said, rubbing the back of her head. Damn Ruby's wooden floors.