Emily had suspicions as to whether or not her uncle had remembered she was coming. There were clues, alright. First of all, she had promised her step-dad that she would be there by mid-mourning. Emily arrived at her uncle's apartment door mid-afternoon, and he sure seemed surprised. The two of them than spent the rest of the afternoon cleaning out the spare bedroom that was to become hers, all the while Casey was walking in a sort of daze.
The biggest clue of all was the first words he said to her. He looked his niece right in the eye and said, "I forgot you were coming." Casey never was one for subtly.
She found it extremely odd, this whole forgetting business. You would think having your niece suddenly forced on you would be something worth remembering. Sentimentality was another thing Casey was never really big on.
He seemed smaller than the last time she had seen him, even though he stood over six feet tall. It must have been the growth spurt she experienced at the end of her ninth grade year, so she herself stood at about 5'9". His hair was the same however; long and black. In comparison, Emily had short curly hair which touched just below her chin. Her eyes were a cerulean blue, while Casey's were such a dark brown, they were almost black.
It had been almost four years since they had last seen each other. Casey's brother, David, had died during an attempted robbery. Relationships have been strained ever since. So here Emily was, after four years of not being in touch with her uncle, actually living with the guy.
It had taken several hours to clear out her new room (Casey seriously needed to learn a thing or two about organization). It wasn't until about 6:30 until she finally started unpacking.
Emily put her books on the shelf Casey had given her. Her cloths went in the drawers of her new dresser. Over the head board of her bed she taped a picture. Next, the laptop was set up and placed on the nightstand, next to a lamp.
On her move to New York, she had taken with her three companions. Her favorite was a stuffed tiger with a round belly and large, yellow eyes. He was big, and he was old. She loved him just the same, and she never traveled without Willie by her side. The second was a book of poems her step-brother had given her for Christmas a couple years ago. When Emily was in one of her moods, reading through the glossy pages helped calm her down.
The last was one of Emily's most valuable possessions: A glass flower hanging from a simple silver chain. It had been a birthday present from her father. Since he had died, she had taken to wearing the necklace all the time, save for when she was in the shower or sleeping.
"Emily, are you done unpacking yet?" Casey yelled from the kitchen. "I wanna order a pizza."
She rolls her eyes. "Than order a pizza. I'll be done unpacking when I'm done unpacking." She yells back, as she removes her CD collection from her suit case.
"What toppings do you want?"
"I don't care, Casey. Surprise me."
"I can do that." She imagines him reaching for the phone, calling some delivery guy.
Emily glances at her watch. It tells her it's a little after 7:30. She decides she's thirsty, and heads to the kitchen to get a glass of water. As she walks through the hall, she notices Casey has migrated to the living room, and has made himself comfortable on the couch watching a hockey game. "Pizza'll be here in about half an hour," he says without looking away from the TV.
Emily hears, but she doesn't answer. Instead, she goes into the kitchen to get her glass of water. The sight that meets her in the kitchen should surprise her, but it doesn't. Empty pizza boxes and Chinese take-out cartons line the counters, and dirty dishes fill the sink. You can't see the table. Old newspapers, dirty napkins, magazines and catalogs block it from view.
Emily sighs loudly. Well, he is a bachelor.
She starts hunting for a new glass while mentally promising to clean this mess up first thing tomorrow. The girl finds her glass and than finds a clean place on the counter to lean against while surveying the damage.
The apartment as a whole was by no means clean, but the kitchen was definitely worse for wear. She sips her water. How can he stand it? she thinks.
Suddenly, the window opens up. Emily turns her head to look. She doesn't scream (she believes screaming should be used only when appropriate. Like when you're cornered and can't think of anything else sensible to do, or when you're on a roller coaster. Since neither happened to be the case, Emily didn't make a sound). A bulky figure jumps through the opening. She blinks, noticing it has a shell. When the figure stands up straight, she notices it's green.
Emily screams.
~*~
Casey is watching the game. He hears his niece walk by, so he tells her the pizza'll be here eventually. She doesn't answer, and Casey smiles.
He was afraid Emily had changed, but she hadn't. She was still the closed off little girl his brother had raised. As surprised as he was when her mother called him up to ask if she could stay with him, he had been happy. Casey always had a soft spot for his only niece.
A scream from the kitchen tears his gaze from the screen. He narrows his eyes. It was more of a squeal, really. A shriek of surprise, even. "Shit," he mutters. In all the excitement, he had completely forgotten his plans with Raphael.
He takes a deep breath, and heads towards the kitchen.
~*~
At first, they just stare at each other. There's a mixture of disbelief, surprise and curiosity on her face. There's only mild annoyance on his.
"Who are you?" he asks rudely.
"Who am I?! Who are you? What are you?" Emily asks, still in a state of shock.
"What does it look like I am?" The questions only seem to have annoyed him further. "I'm a giant turtle." He glares at her. "What are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here? What are you doing here?"
"Stop repeating everything I say!" he yells at her.
"Than stop asking me stupid questions!" she yells right back. Than something seems to register. "A turtle," she says almost thoughtfully. "A giant, talking turtle."
He narrows his eyes. The turtle looks downright dangerous. He opens his mouth – probably to insult her, or rant about her acting stupid, but Casey clears his throat. Neither of them had realized he had walked in.
"There's a little change of plans tonight, I'm afraid." He says nervously.
"Casey, who the hell is this?" the turtle asks, still pissed.
Casey looks at her. "Uh, she's my niece."
"Your niece? Since when do you have a niece?"
Casey seems to think about it. "Emily," he says. "How old are you?"
The look on her face is replaced with one to match the turtle's. "I don't think he was talking literally, Casey."
Casey looks at her for a second than turns to his best friend. "I think she's about seventeen, but I could be wrong…"
Than Emily looks from her uncle to the foul - tempered turtle in front of her, and back again. Annoyance is replaced by a look of contemplation, soon replaced by hesitant acceptance. She shakes her head. "I'm going to bed, Casey. I'll see you in the mourning," she says, turning to leave.
Casey looks at the clock above the stove. "But it's not even eight-o-clock yet. The pizza isn't here."
"I'm going to bed," she repeats. Emily stalks to the living room. The window is open, and three more turtles are sitting on the coach. They turn to look at her. She just pinches the bridge of her nose. "Great," she mutters, "more turtles." Without another word, she turns to her bedroom. Everyone in the apartment can hear the satisfying slam of her door.
~*~