You Were The First Mile

By Luna

Chapter 2: The Greatest of Intentions

Emma was never happy unless she had some kind of project to keep her occupied.

She had to keep busy, otherwise a restless, nagging feeling crept into her bones and she ended up doing something impulsive, spur of the moment, generally ill-planned and badly executed. She had the proof in all the unfinished scarves and blankets she'd tried to knit, the scrapbooks with only a few of the pages decorated, the paint by numbers with only a few colors filled, and the new books she'd never quite got around to reading, with perfect spines and pristine corners. As soon as her first excitement dwindled down, she couldn't be bothered to complete anything. She had the ambition and the greatest of intentions, but none of the perseverance needed to complete half of the things she started. She was simply too impetuous.

She couldn't have felt better about Harriet moving in because suddenly there were hundreds of small things to get accomplished. She didn't have the time or the space to be bored. First, there were boxes and furniture to haul inside and unpack. She still had several boxes of her own to put away too, along with everything of Harriet's. She liked how easily the apartment seemed to absorb Harriet's things. The rooms had been all her own, but now there were touches of Harriet everywhere, her toothbrush in the bathroom, her plates and cups in the cupboards, a few of her posters on the wall.

After they finally managed to arrange all of their possessions, the business of actually getting to know one another came next. Harriet was such a pretty girl, and Emma wanted to be friends with her. And Emma almost always got what she wanted.

This wish was made difficult at first by Harriet's shy demeanor. Harriet was timid, always afraid of making a blunder or saying the wrong thing. She stuttered and turned bashful the moment Emma started up a conversation. Emma was very flattered to have someone so much in awe of her around, but she wished that Harriet might loosen up a bit She wasn't that intimidating, after all.

Harriet soon became her next big project. It wasn't difficult for her; she'd always known how to talk to people. She simply had to figure out where to start with Harriet.

One night, she ordered Chinese take-out for both of them. Harriet had been moved in for almost a week and Emma was tired of the civil, polite, dull conversations they always seemed to have. She was ready to move a little deeper than that, and she knew just what would help Harriet lose some of her reserve.

Emma opened a bottle of wine, and poured them each a glass, enjoying the quiet glugging noises it made flowing out. She had always felt that there was something so grown-up about ordering food and the feeling was enhanced now that she was in her own apartment. Apparently independence floated out of the small white cartons with red temples on the side along with the spicy, peanut-oily smell of the food.

"I know the words 'Chinese food' and 'wine' usually aren't synonymous, but I wanted to celebrate you being all settled," Emma said, raising her glass. They had officially unpacked all of their belongings.

Harriet smiled, surprised and happy, a bit of pink tingeing her cheeks as she clunked her glass lightly on Emma's. "Thank you," was all she dared to say.

Emma furrowed her brow. It wouldn't do; she had to get Harriet to open up. She quickly came up with a topic she knew would get Harriet talking.

"I was thinking about you earlier today. Transferring schools must have been really difficult for you." Here Harriet nodded emphatically. "Why did you transfer? What was your other school like?"

Harriet's mouth, with its natural pout, turned down further into a little frown. She took a sip before speaking. "It was awful. I didn't have any friends, no one to talk to, and my roommate was so mean. The professors didn't seem to care at all. I had no motivation to do my school work. I wasn't interested or engaged in anything. I just always stayed in my room. I really hated it."

Emma sighed sympathetically, but she was very pleased with how the conversation was going. Harriet had started out haltingly, but as the amount of wine in her glass got smaller and as she got more in to her own story she became more animated, gesturing wildly. It seemed she had only needed some encouragement and an interested listener. Emma provided both.

"—then after I transferred, everything was better immediately. I was meeting people, and I loved my classes. Some friends convinced me to try out for the soccer team. I had played in high school, but quit when I was at my other school. I missed it a lot. I think it was partly why I was so unhappy. It felt so good to start it up again. It really gives you a sense of camaraderie. Your teammates become like your sisters."

"I always wanted a sister," Emma mused, swirling the wine in her glass. "I always felt like I missed out on something, not having any siblings. But my parents divorced when I was very young, and then my mother died, so there wasn't a chance."

Harriet nodded. "You're not missing much." Harriet had many younger siblings. "Especially being the eldest. My parents were always the strictest with me. I always wanted to be an only child. You get so much more attention."

Emma laughed. "I guess everybody wants a taste of the life they didn't get."

As the days passed, Harriet continued to confide in Emma, and in no time they'd become close. Emma liked developing their friendship; Harriet was just so adorable. They didn't say it, but Emma had come to regard Harriet as the younger sister she'd never had. She hoped Harriet would look up to her in return.

Harriet wasn't exactly a kindred spirit, but Emma enjoyed her friendship nonetheless. Emma didn't know whether it was because Harriet was so much shorter than her physically, or whether there was something inherent in the nature of their friendship, but she couldn't help but mother Harriet. She just had an urge to help the girl reach her full potential. She seemed so sheltered and naïve, and Emma had so many things to teach her about life. She felt just like a wiser, older sister.

Emma's timing was perfect, really, because as soon as she'd completed project Get-to-Know-Harriet, fall semester began and she had all her classes to keep her occupied. Though sometimes it had felt like she would never make it, her last year had finally arrived. She had tried to give herself a lighter schedule than in other years, but she wasn't certain she had succeeded. During the first week she didn't have much time to spare as she got herself organized for the upcoming months. One thing was for certain: she had a lot of research to do before she could even think about writing her senior thesis, which was a frightening and daunting task in itself.

Emma had been looking forward to her senior year for almost all of her academic career. In her mind, the words were tinged with gold. She liked the idea of appearing as the intimidating and wise upperclassman. She'd faced the stigma of being a lowly freshman, and now it was her turn to rule the school. Not that she actually planned on terrorizing anyone. Appearing intimidating and untouchable was quite enough for her. She didn't have many opportunities to implement her ideas as she wasn't ever around any freshman. She didn't share classes with them, and she didn't go out to many of the open parties on campus any longer.

Oddly enough though, what she mostly felt during the first weeks was not triumph or achievement, but a sense of loneliness. The people she had been closest with through the years had all graduated and left her behind, and she didn't really know any of the younger students. As Taylor had suddenly become distant because of her boyfriend, Emma was very glad indeed to have Harriet as a friend.

She was sitting in her living room surrounded by five open History textbooks when Harriet came home from her classes one evening. She was on the phone. Emma snapped out of her daydream to listen to Harriet's end of the conversation.

Emma squinted her eyes, giving Harriet a calculating glance. Harriet's voice was much higher than normal, and she was even giggling from time to time. Emma knew it had to be a boy. But which one?

One thing she had learned right away was how much Harriet loved the concept of love. All the DVDs she owned were love stories. She watched every romantic movie that came on the TV and the sappier the better. Harriet was always ready with a box of tissues and the insatiable urge to root for the underdog, be it the homely girl next door or the hopeless geek, pining away for the prom king or queen. It was obvious that she wanted her own sappy love-fest.

She was fairly obsessed with the idea of finding someone to love. Unlike Emma, she'd come to college with the 'ring by spring' concept ingrained into her, and unfortunately for Harriet, she had never found the man to give her the ring. Emma knew she was always on the look out. She went on more dates in a month than Emma had been on in her whole life, and yet somehow they never worked out. Harriet was unlucky in love.

Her rebound rate was even more astounding to Emma. Harriet would come back from a bad date completely devastated. She'd mope and cry for days at a time, eating pints of ice cream and watching The Notebook on repeat, and then suddenly a week later go out on another date with someone new like she hadn't been crying her eyes out only 24 hours earlier. Harriet was not the type of girl Emma was used to living with.

When Harriet hung up her cell-phone , Emma gave her a knowing look. "So who're you flirting with now?"

Harriet laughed, looking sheepish. "There's this boy…"

Emma moved her books off the sofa to make room for Harriet, who rushed over to sit by her.

"We both took a math course this summer, and we've been talking ever since then. He's so funny. I have the biggest thing for him."

"And his name is?" Emma asked impatiently, laughing. She wondered which of their acquaintances it was. She'd introduced Harriet to a lot of the boys she knew. Hadn't Bret taken that class…?

Harriet grinned. "It's Rob Martin." A dreamy look came over her face.

Emma, on the other hand, was not impressed. Her own standards for a potential boyfriend were nearly impossible to meet, and her standards for her friends were almost equally as impenetrable.

"Isn't he younger than us?" was all she had to say, her tone incredulous.

She thought she'd had a class with him her sophomore year. Or had it been her junior year. Didn't he have brown hair—or maybe it was blond. She had a vague idea that he wore glasses. Whatever his looks, Emma knew that he'd made no impression on her whatsoever, which was a terrible sign in a potential love interest for her friend. Harriet needed someone with personality: someone with verve.

Worse, Emma knew that Robert was one of those computer tech nerds. In her experience, those boys were generally very nice and always weird. She was sure Robert wouldn't be any different. Emma briefly imagined inviting him over to the house for a party or a small get together, shuddering at the thought; who knew what kind of awkward situations he would cause. Emma wouldn't stand for it. Harriet could do so much better! She wanted the best for her new friend, and the best was most certainly not Rob Martin.

Worse still, Emma didn't know what she would do if she lost another roommate to a boy!

Harriet's face fell slightly at Emma's lack of enthusiasm. Emma had risen to the occasion for all of her other dates, so this lack of response was significant. Her opinion held a lot of sway for Harriet.

"Yeah, he's only a sophomore…but he's really mature…"

Emma grasped one of Harriet's hands. "I'm sure he is," she consoled. "But, to be honest, I'm sure you could find someone much better."

Someone whose face could actually be remembered from one moment to the next, was the snide thought in Emma's head.

Harriet was looking confused and disappointed even, her eyes wide. "You think so?"

Emma nodded vigorously. "Of course. With your looks and personality you could have anyone you wanted. I'm not saying to stop being friends with Rob or ignore his calls. That's ridiculous." Emma shook her head. "I'm simply…suggesting that you keep your options open. It's only the first week of school. You don't want to be tied down already, and Harriet, you could get anyone you want—why settle for any old thing? I know there's a top-notch man out there just waiting for you."

Harriet was making little nods with her head. Conviction was a foreign idea to her, and she had certainly never held one of her own in the face of opposition. She no longer looked dazed. "I think—I think you're right."

Emma nodded, smiling. "Of course I am. And I'm going to spend the whole night picking out someone perfect for you." Emma had a huge number of acquaintances at school. Half of the time, she couldn't remember how she had actually become acquainted with them, but she still nodded or waved when she passed people around the campus that she vaguely knew. She was pretty and friendly; it had never been a problem for her to meet people. She was sure it wouldn't be hard to find someone a little more exciting than Rob Martin for her friend. Harriet needed to get the full Pemberley experience, and Emma definitely knew some boys that could give it to her.

Harriet looked excited and pleased. "Okay!"

"Let's order some food and then we can brain storm together. You can tell me what all you're looking for. The tall, sensitive type? Or maybe someone more brawny…This is going to be too much fun."

Conveniently forgetting her senior thesis, Emma reached for her phone. She had found herself a new project.

Emma went through every male name in her cell phone with Harriet, searching. After much deliberation, she'd narrowed it down to, in her humble opinion, two very eligible candidates. Now she simply had to choose which one was the best. She was still deep in thought about it at the daycare the following day.

She daydreamed about the soon-to-be bliss Harriet was to experience. In her mind, it always ended with Harriet as the radiant bride in white satin, with Emma in a stunning red silk dress as the maid of honor by her side. In her speech, she would be able to say, humbly, how she had set the two of them up. She was so caught up in all the details of planning the wedding that she accidentally gave Henry a carton of milk instead of orange juice during snack time.

He adjusted his glasses and tugged lightly on her shirt hem as she started to walk away.

"Miss Emma, I'm lactose intolerant," he said in his quiet voice. The large word took him a moment to wrap his tongue around. "That means I can't have milk. Or cheese. Or ice cream." This last word was said rather bitterly. He sighed and pointed to the bag of cereal in front of him that he'd brought from home. "Cereal is only good with no milk—otherwise bad things happen." He rubbed his stomach and Emma laughed.

"I'm so sorry, Henry. No milk—that's right."

She switched his milk for an orange juice and lightly patted his brown curly hair. His hair was soft and warm under her fingers. Henry was one of her two favorite children. At 6 years old, he was already the biggest hypochondriac she had ever met. She and Grant made a real effort to get him to try new, different things, as it was painfully obvious that his home life offered a very narrow window of experience. She prayed he wouldn't grow up as rigid and strict as his mother.

Emma still remembered the day they had all stood in a circle in the back courtyard and played Frisbee. Henry had resisted the most, but in the end had loved the game the best of all the children. He'd continued tossing it back and forth with Grant long after all the others had lost interest. Henry only needed a little prodding now and then.

"Mommy says no cereal either unless it doesn't have gluten in it." He squinted and looked up at her curiously. "What's gluten? Is it in candy too? 'Cause I can't have that either."

Looking down into his inquisitive face, Emma couldn't resist smiling. "If your mom says so, then I think it must be true. She knows best."

Emma had to pass out the rest of the drinks, but before she turned away she heard him wonder aloud, "Is this organic orange juice?" and she couldn't keep the smirk from her face.

Grant walked over to her once she'd finished handing out the drinks. "Giving Henry milk?" He shook his head. "You must really have something on your mind," he teased and she laughed, sure they were both remembering Henry's first day at the daycare center when his mother lectured for at least ten minutes about the entire extent of his numerous allergies and how very important it was that he Not Drink Milk.

"I know; what a catastrophe that would have been. I'm sure she'd want me to get out the EpiPen just because he touched the carton."

He laughed, but wasn't deterred. He was still looking curiously at her, his head tilted. "Anything wrong?"

"No, no." She tried to shrug it off, but she knew he wouldn't let it go so easily. She sighed. "If you must know, I've decided to set up Harriet with Phil Elton. At first, she was thinking about Rob Martin-this sophomore whose face you forget even while you're looking at him-but I convinced her otherwise. She's been just dying to date someone, and I know Phil is still single. I was distracted thinking about what would be the best way to do it. I want them both to get a good impression of the other, but in a low-stress kind of way."

A few minutes earlier, Emma had decided on Phil for Harriet. She'd had her first year seminar with him and they'd remained acquaintances. He'd always been friendly toward her. He was charming, although sometimes a little crude and rather fond of skipping class, if Emma remembered correctly. Emma had specific standards for herself, and Phil wasn't her type in the slightest, as he was more brawn than brain, and at this point more beer bloat than brawn, but Harriet had said she liked large, football boys with large football necks, and so Emma was sure she'd be attracted to Phil.

Grant was looking skeptical. She could practically feel it radiating from his eyes. It was one of those patented looks he used only for her, a mixture of half-vexed amusement and complete disbelief. "So one of them asked you for help with this? Is that what happened"

He was trying to look in her eyes, but she avoided his gaze, looking out instead at the children who were all being docile, eating their snacks.

"No. Not exactly." She caught the brief slag of his shoulders as he sighed, and she could tell he was about to interrupt, so she hurriedly said, "But they'll be so perfect together! I know it. He's all Harriet's been looking for, and I know he'll love her. They're just asking to be helped, to be turned in the right direction." She shifted to look at him, and a small part of him seemed amused, but mostly his face showed exasperation.

"Emma—" he began in a tone that instantly made her defensive, like she was a dog who had just been caught rooting its nose through the trash bin.

"What? There is nothing wrong with helping friends."

"It'd be fine if that's what you were actually doing, but we both know it's not. What was wrong with the first guy that she liked? Other than the fact that he didn't interest you," Grant said, before Emma could interject. "If Harriet thinks he's interesting, then it's not your problem. And anyway, Phil? Emma, there's no way you're serious."

Emma looked at him, offended by his condescending tone. Before either could reply, they both heard a tiny voice saying 'Miss Emma' from somewhere in the room, and Emma waved him off, hurrying over to help before Grant could add anything else.

She managed to avoid him by staying busy with the children for the last 10 minutes. She knew he was going to try to use logic to make her understand some silly point he was trying to make, and she didn't want to listen. Her dream of wedded bliss for Harriet was too new to be destroyed so early on. Maybe he didn't approve, but she knew she wasn't doing anything bad. Her intentions were only for good things to happen. Harriet wanted to find someone to love so badly; Emma was just trying to make it happen for her.

Later, he caught up to her outside in the parking lot as she clicked the button to unlock her car.

Grant opened his mouth to speak, but Emma cut him off, turning from her car to face him.

"I already know what you're going to say so you can save yourself the trouble. 'I'm wrong to mess around in their affairs. As much as I'd like it, they're not my own, personal playthings, but real people, and everyone involved would be much better off if I left it alone'," she said, mocking Grant's way of talking fairly accurately.

He blinked and raised one shoulder to shrug. "Well—no, that's not what I was going to say, although it's all true. I was going to say that you're wrong. Phil and Harriet aren't compatible."

Emma huffed indignantly, swinging her hair off her shoulder. She fiddled with her keys and squinted at him in the fading sunlight. She wondered if the soft glow from the sun was making her look as angelic as it was making him. Not that he would have noticed.

With anyone else, she would have used it to her advantage, playing up her looks to win the argument, but not with Grant. He was too annoyed with her, and Emma had decided long ago that Grant Knightley was made up of rocks. Stoic, immovable, and unfeeling toward all things like fading sunlight and glowing hair.

"What would you know?" she talked back, reverting, as always in such situations, to the maturity of a 15 year old. "You don't even know Harriet."

Ever the adult, he only grinned in response to her taunting. "No, but I do know Phil, and you talked nonstop about Harriet for a week, so I've got a pretty good idea about her too." Grant shook his head. "She's not the type of girl he goes for. She's too eager and he likes the chase."

"Oh please. Harriet is everyone's type." She waved him off. "You'll see. They'll be just like Taylor and Mike."

Grant looked as though he might say more, but then thought better of it. He adjusted his bag on his shoulder and looked down at the pavement, a resigned smile on his face. He'd had many years to practice such futile arguments with Emma. She was too stubborn to listen to any advice until all of her plans blew up in her face. He shifted his gaze to her, and she looked in to his clear, intelligent eyes. "Okay, Emma. Whatever you say."

"You don't mean that; you're just saying it to shut me up."

He nodded. "Basically, yes."

She ignored his last sentence. She didn't much care what he thought about her plan anyway. He obviously didn't realize the amount of thought she had put in to her idea. It wasn't as if she had preemptively rushed into a terrible decision…

And although Grant was definitely attractive, Emma had noticed through the years that he didn't pay much attention to the other sex. He seemed to date about as often as she did, which was seldom. What would he know about someone like Phil or Harriet? Rocks don't go on blind dates, after all.

"Good. I'm glad that's settled then. I'll make sure you get an invitation to their wedding. Make sure you don't wear that blue tie of yours to their reception; it won't go with the color scheme. 'Bye Knightley." She opened her door and waved as she got in, and he gave her a nod, though she saw him shake his head afterward.

She sighed as she put the key into the ignition. It was obvious that he disapproved, but she knew she was right, and she wasn't going to let him make her feel bad about what she was doing. Phil and Harriet were right for each other. Once they spent a little time together they'd see it too. She'd get to prove Grant wrong and make her friend happy in the meantime. It was a win-win situation.