Simple Mistakes Outtake. Emmett can be a man of few words, and I think this is the least dialogue I've ever written.
Originally, I thought it might be fun to consider what happened when Emmett left home. However, this got away from me and ended up much sweeter than I had anticipated. I hope you enjoy.
"My whole damn life reduced to the back of my Jeep. This is some fucked-up shit," Emmett muttered to himself over the blare of the radio. He made one last turn down a shady residential street, counting off the house numbers. Glancing quickly at Jasper's messy scrawl, he spotted matching numbers on a mailbox. Making a hard right, he followed the curving drive and took a look at his new home. His parents had made it clear he wasn't welcome back until he was enrolled in school full-time; if there were no classes, there was no coming home.
The house next to the garage was a large Tudor reproduction with perfectly manicured flowerbeds dotting the substantial grounds. Whistling softly, Emmett wondered what he was getting himself into. The Hales certainly didn't need income from a boarder.
Parking in front of the three-car garage, he got out of his battered, old Jeep and tried to roll the tension from his shoulders. A song he'd never heard before was coming from a radio sitting on a workbench just inside the garage. He walked a little further inside, noting the rows and rows of expensive tools hung perfectly on pegboards across the garage wall. There were no tools out of place, and very little clutter or dirt visible. He wondered if the rest of the place was this well-cared for. His head turned when the back door of the house opened.
"You found it!" Jasper called, crossing to Emmett and shaking his hand.
Jasper seemed genuinely pleased to see him, and Emmett relaxed a bit. It was nice to feel wanted somewhere. He hadn't seen a lot of that lately.
"Yeah, I finally managed to figure out your chicken scratch. Nice place," he said, waving his hand to indicate the house and yard. "Thank your parents again for me."
"No thanks necessary. Rose, my sister, goes away to school in a few weeks. My Dads gone a lot. I'm glad someone will be here in case my Mom needs something." Jasper paused, but then shook his head as though he'd decided against whatever he was going to say. "Here, let me show you the apartment."
Jasper led the way up an exterior staircase attached to the side of the garage. After unlocking the door, he passed Emmett the key. The first thing Emmett noticed was the carpet. It was an orange and green shag, very dated, but clean. As he walked in, he realized the room was large and almost empty; the only thing inside was an an older television on an overturned blue milk crate. Plain white walls held a single bare window. The kitchen occupied one corner of the room, and in that area, the carpet was cut away and replaced with orange linoleum. Emmett could see a green refrigerator and matching stove with a few dark cabinets. A small microwave took up the only counter space. Again, in spite of its age, everything appeared clean and functional.
Jasper walked forward and opened the refrigerator. The light came on, and he put his hand inside, verifying that the unit was cold. "I came up here yesterday and made sure everything was on and working. It should ready for you to bring your stuff up."
With a nod, Emmett knew that he could have lived in much worse places. Plus, there was the added incentive of living alone. He'd never had that luxury before. If it meant living somewhere that looked like it was right out of the seventies, well, he could deal with it. It's only for a little while, right?
A short hallway lead to two doors. The first was a small, utilitarian bathroom with a simple bath/shower combo. There was a bare rod above the tub, waiting for a curtain. Everything in the room was a matching mustard yellow color, and like the kitchen, it was clean and functional.
The second door lead to a square bedroom. There was one small window in the center of the far wall. A tiny closet was hidden by brown bi-fold doors. Against one wall, someone had set a bare mattress directly on the carpet.
"I managed to snag you a couple of essentials," Jasper said as they walked back into the living room. "The TV and mattress were all I could get up here on short notice. I know it's not much—" Jasper went on, but Emmett cut him off.
"It's great. I don't need much." The men headed downstairs and began bringing boxes up. They worked quickly and quietly. Emmett may be moving into his first place alone, but the reason was hanging over his head. What should have been a fun and exciting occasion was a matter of wounded pride. Is it so hard to for my parents to have a little faith in me? He shoved the thought aside and pushed himself to work a little faster at unloading.
A few short trips later, all of Emmett's worldly possession had been delivered to this impersonal space. They put the garbage bags full of clothes in the bedroom, and stacked the boxes full of CDs, video games, and memorabilia in the corner of the living room.
He looked around with his hands on his hips. He'd had no choice about striking out on his own, but he could make his new place something closer to what he would want. "I'm going to need some things. You wanna come?" Emmett motioned to the door. Sliding the apartment key onto his ring, he locked up, and they were soon backing the Jeep down the driveway.
SuperTarget was closest, so that's where they went. Emmett and Jasper each grabbed a cart, because neither knew how much they were going to get. Their first problem was in the bedding department. Who the hell knew sheets came in different sizes? The guys estimated the size of the mattress based on Jasper's arm length and how hard it had been to wrestle it up the stairs. Emmett picked out a sheet set in a flat, grey color; no flowers for his new bachelor pad. One blanket and one pillow were tossed in as well. Two aisles over, he found bathroom items. Three black towels and a clear plastic shower curtain had them nodding and moving on.
The kitchen area was harder. Emmett knew how to cook; you can't live in Esme's house without knowing how to cook, but how much time would he have for that? He decided on one pot and one frying pan, each in a medium size. That should cover whatever he wanted to try. One cookie sheet for fries or pizza got tossed in as well. A spatula, a large spoon, and a mixing bowl joined the pile in the cart. A four piece flatware set and four plates went in as well, because he might get tired of paper plates and plastic forks.
They drove the almost-full cart and the spare to the other side of the store. For just a minute, they looked like a scene out of that Supermarket Grab game show as they filled the empty. Toilet paper, trash bags, paper towels, paper plates, plastic sporks, dish soap, and laundry soap begin to fill the second cart. The ever-growing pile was topped off with beer, chips, frozen pizzas, and microwave burritos. Grabbing a box of Wheaties on their way to the register, Emmett perched it on top like a ship's prow, because everybody needs vitamins and minerals, right?
Just in case, they made one last detour into the hardware section for a couple of necessities before paying and heading back to the apartment. As he drove, Emmett marveled at the cost of the bags in the back. He'd have to make sure he watched what he spent for a while, at least until he had some money saved, and was on more stable financial footing. Another joy to come out of the upheaval of his life.
Once they carried everything upstairs, Emmett put the pizzas and burritos in the freezer. Jasper and Emmett each cracked a warm longneck before trying to make the bed. Thankfully, they'd guessed right on the sheet size and clinked their bottles in triumph when the final product resembled the picture on the package.
Looking up at the daylight streaming in the window, Emmett knew he wouldn't be able to sleep without a shade or curtains. Digging through one of the plastic bags, he pulled out a roll of duct tape and made an "mmhmm" sound; that detour into the hardware section had been worth it. Having Jasper hold up the third bath towel, he taped it firmly across the window. Emmett nodded in satisfaction, knowing that the bedroom was done and ready for him to move in.
Pulling the tags from the other towels, he set them on the counter along with the shampoo, toothpaste and a bar of soap he'd managed to snag from the house. After pulling the shower curtain from its wrappings, he realized he was supposed to buy some of those little clippy things to hang it from the rod. The duct tape came to the rescue again. With a few strips, he attached the curtain to the rod. It wasn't pretty, but as long as he was careful, it would work just fine.
Setting the dish soap and other kitchen items on top of the stove, he turned to Jasper with a grim smile. "Not bad, if I do say so myself. All I need is something to sit on."
"I've got an idea. Follow me," Jasper called, already halfway out the door. As they reached the garage, Emmett recognized the song playing from earlier in the day. He stood and waited while Jasper disappeared behind one of the cars. It took a few minutes of rummaging to find what he was looking for. Finally crowing in triumph, Jasper pulled two folding lawn chairs off a high shelf. Bringing them out into the sunshine, he blew the dust off one, opened it up, and motioned to Emmett as though he were presenting him with a royal throne. Emmett sat, and Jasper unfolded the other chair and settled next to him.
"Yeah, this'll work," Emmett murmured. He'd sat on worse.
There wasn't anything left to do, so they rested for a few minutes, talking about this and that. It was a sunny afternoon, and it felt good to just sit in a lawn chair and shoot the breeze with a friend. After a few minutes, Emmett realized he'd forgotten why he was there, and his spirits dropped as he remembered. He wondered how long it would take for this house—this place—to become his new normal.
A clank came from beneath a car inside the garage, and it was followed by a muffled string of curses. Emmett was surprised to learn he'd been walking past someone all day. He was looking down when a creeper rolled out from under the car. A pair of old, dirty Keds eased into view, followed by black, skinny jeans covering killer legs. He had to brace himself to not stare as a tall blonde pulled herself out the rest of the way, tucking one hand against her chest. Her face was streaked with grease, and it was hard to tell how long her hair was; a tight bun at the nape of her neck kept it out of the way. Even though she wore no makeup, he couldn't help but stare. She was stunning. What the hell was it with the genes in this family? he thought. Although Jasper only had eyes for Maria, chicks turned heads wherever he went. Even grease splattered and injured, Emmett could see this young woman was a knockout.
Rose walked past them, cursing quietly. She grabbed a rag from an open toolbox, wrapping her index finger. Jasper moved quickly, and Emmett was surprised to see that he didn't touch her or talk to her. He simply reached up and pulled a first aid kit off a high shelf. Sitting back down, Jasper watched as she tended her own wound.
When her finger was disinfected and bandaged, she turned around and fixed them with an icy stare.
"So, you're the dropout," she greeted Emmett with no attempt at an introduction. Her icy blue eyes seemed to look right through him.
"Yep," he said. "You're the sister."
She nodded in response, and her stare never wavered.
Suddenly, he felt absurd, sitting in a folding lawn chair in front of someone else's garage, like a freeloading uncle. It was as though she could see through him, and he'd come up wanting. For some reason he couldn't identify, that stare made him all the more determined to go out in the morning and start building a new life. Not the life his parents expected, but the life he envisioned for himself.
Turning her back to them without a word, she flipped off the radio and stalked away.
Jasper sighed softly, watching her go. "You said you needed somewhere quiet to live. I think you'll get that here. Welcome to the Hale homestead," Jasper said in a flat, humorless tone.
Emmett knew then; he might be sleeping here, but it wasn't home.
God, I'm tired, Emmett thought as he rubbed his eyes. Between work, the contractor's exam night classes, and homework, it felt like months since he'd had a break. Thankfully, the building site was closed for Christmas, and classes wouldn't begin again until after the new year.
Christmas dinner with his family had been tense. Edward and Alice were home, and Carlisle had made a huge fuss over their classes and what they were learning. More than once Emmett had spotted Esme looking at him with a combination of heartbreak and worry. That look was far harder to take than his father's righteous lectures. He'd spent the meal counting the minutes until he could go back to the apartment and relax. Sometime during dessert, he realized that house was no longer home, but his little above-the-garage apartment hadn't earned the title either. He was somehow between, neither here nor there.
Emmett pulled the pickup into the Hale's driveway, relieved the day had come to an end. It was unseasonably warm, and he spent a few minutes just sitting, thinking about what a wreck the day had been and trying to muster the energy to go upstairs and crawl into bed.
As he opened the door, he could clearly make out the sounds of yelling coming from the house. He'd met Mr. and Mrs. Hale a couple of times over the last few months and their voices were easy to recognize. Emmett walked toward the side of the garage, stopping near the first step to his apartment. He moved back into the shadows as Mr. Hale emerged from the back door, determination in his stride. He walked to his car, slammed the door, revved the engine, and backed out of drive.
A tiny movement from the side yard caught Emmett's eye. The sun had set, but there was enough light for him to see the outline of Rosalie. She was sitting on a swing attached to an old play set and didn't appear to be looking at anything in particular. A slight movement of her foot sent left her swaying slightly.
There was something about the way she was sitting, a little folded in on herself, that drew him to her. Before he could think about his reasons, he walked slowly across the lawn. He knew the instant she saw him, because she straightened her back and wiped beneath one eye.
"Rose." It just didn't seem like enough to say, so he began again. "Merry Christmas."
"Merry Christmas," she replied, but it sounded like something she'd said out of obligation.
He considered sitting on the swing next to her, but figured it probably wouldn't take the weight of a full-grown man, so he stood and leaned on the support post.
They'd only seen each other in passing since that first meeting in the garage. He was surprised when she started speaking again, beginning right where they'd left off so many weeks ago.
"I asked Jasper about it, but he wouldn't tell me the details. Why'd you drop out? He said your grades weren't that bad, and you could have made it." She looked up at him with sincere curiosity.
He supposed he should have been surprised by her blunt question, but he wasn't. He could tell she wasn't one for chitchat. He admired people who kept things honest, even if it meant being blunt.
"My dad's a doctor, and my mom's an architect. It was like growing up in the overachiever's hall of fame. Edward fell right in. He's going to be the doctor my dad always wanted. I just couldn't keep trying to measure up."
"Instead of trying to play by their rules, you leveled the field and decided to play your own game. I can respect that." She pushed with her toe again, sending the swing moving a bit more.
Rose's use of a sports metaphor surprised and amused him. It was unexpected, especially from her.
"What's your plan?" she asked, starting to talk again when he didn't reply.
"I like construction. I like watching an empty lot being transformed into something useful. I'll work for a while and learn the trade. Eventually, I'll get a license and open a firm of my own." Other than Alice, he hadn't discussed his dream with anyone. He'd held it close, protecting it. He looked over at Rose, wondering if maybe there was something about younger sisters that helped draw out the things you didn't want to discuss.
"Good for you. I think you'll be great."
She smiled at him as she said it, and he could feel something in him respond. It was the first time he'd seen her smile, and it was lovely. Suddenly, he was thinking things about his landlord's daughter that he shouldn't. Especially, when she had been nothing but friendly with him.
"Thank you," he said, before clearing his throat. "Other than my little sister, I think you're the only person who's said anything like that." He inhaled to continue when he was distracted by the back door opening again. Jasper emerged with a duffle bag slung over his shoulder. He looked first at the garage, but the doors were closed, so he scanned the yard. When he found them, he walked over and gave Emmett a nod in greeting.
"Let me guess," Rosalie said, irritation coming through with every word. "Maria called. You'll be back in a couple of days."
"I don't need any grief, Rose. I was here for Christmas because that's what mom wanted," Jasper said. "I helped clean up the kitchen and got her set up with a movie for the night. Dad's gone and I think we can all agree happy family time is over. It's been another Hallmark holiday."
Jasper's sarcasm floored Emmett. He'd never seen this side of his easy-going friend. It was a revelation. He'd seen people change when they were under stress, but it hadn't occurred to him that being home would be this difficult for his friend.
"Whatever, Jasper. Just go," Rose said, with no inflection in her voice. "I'll take care of everything here." Her eyes followed Jasper as he turned and walked to his car. "I always do," she added under her breath.
Rose turned back to Emmett with no hint of embarrassment on her face, and he realized she didn't mind him witnessing that little altercation. It seemed like a perverse vote of confidence to know she'd been willing to air their family's dirty laundry in front of him. He decided to try the swing after all, and was surprised when it felt like it would hold his weight. To ease the tension, he asked about her classes.
"They're fine," she said with a shrug, seeming uninterested in the topic. "I'm thinking of traveling this summer. I have a chance to go to France for an immersion class."
"That sounds interesting, but it's a long time to be gone." He was starting to enjoy chatting with her. The idea that she might come home for longer than a school holiday was enticing. It gave him hope that he could do more socializing than bullshitting with the guys at work and turning them down for Friday nights at the bar. He'd never been a bar kind of guy, and he didn't want to start just because he'd like someone to talk to.
"Getting back to business," she said without preamble, "going out on your own makes sense. You're an average student following an overachiever, so school isn't the way to go. You're obviously smart and a problem-solver. You'll be fine."
"Thanks," he said, feeling a bit sheepish. He pushed the ground with his toe, sending his swing over far enough to nudge her with his shoulder. It felt childish, but it seemed like a good way to ease the tension he was feeling. They sat in silence for a few minutes, and he couldn't help but ask what had been on his mind since he pulled in the drive.
"Rosalie," he asked, matching her bluntness, "why are you sitting outside on Christmas?"
"Because it's better than being inside on Christmas." She didn't elaborate and he wasn't going to push. Besides, wasn't that how he'd felt sitting in his front seat in the driveway? This was the first conversation today where he didn't feel as though he'd let someone down. It was always nice to find a place where there was no expectations. He hoped they could sit like this for a while, but it wasn't to be.
"Rose, darling. Are you out there?" A soft voice called across the lawn.
Emmett could see Mrs. Hale standing at the back door. She was an older, slightly softer version of her daughter. Her eyes scanned the darkness and settled on him for a few seconds before she gave a gentle smile. She nodded before turning to Rosalie and asking about their plans for the morning. Her words sounded slightly slurred, but Emmett thought it might be his imagination.
"I need to go," Rose whispered, getting up quickly. "It was good talking to you. Merry Christmas."
Emmett watched her go inside, and sat on the swing for a few more minutes. He didn't try to sort out his swirl of thoughts and emotions. There was simply too much to wade through. Instead, he hauled himself up the stairs, changed quickly and dropped off into a dreamless sleep.
A few mornings later, Emmett was fumbling with the buttons on his flannel shirt and rushing toward his vehicle when he noticed Mrs. Hale working to get an overloaded trash container to the curb. Empty wrapping paper tubes and other post-holiday detritus stuck out of the top, making it difficult to balance.
He walked over quickly and took the handle when she backed away. "I've got it." Even if he was running late, he couldn't leave watching her wrestle it down the drive.
"Thank you," she said, giving him a grateful smile. When he had the container in place and walked to his Jeep, she had already gone inside.
That evening, he came home looking like something from a low-budget monster movie. They were trying out a new insulation material, and he'd spent the day blowing fluffy, white foam into half-finished walls. He walked carefully, not wanting to spread it all over the apartment.
Looking in the bathroom mirror, Emmett figured he looked a little like a Yeti; he was covered in what appeared to be white fur, except for bare spots where his safety goggles and dust mask had provided protection. The shower was hot and long and the best of his life. It took three rounds of shampoo to get the foam out of his hair. He'd need a cap of some kind if they were going to try it again.
Wrapping a towel around himself and holding it closed with one hand, he padded barefoot to the fridge and reached in for a beer. He hadn't been shopping in weeks and knew the only thing in that fridge was beer and half of a leftover pizza. The pizza box had been moved to the bottom shelf. On the top shelf was a red plate covered with clear wrap. It wasn't there when he left in the morning. He looked around quickly as though he could catch whoever had left it, then felt foolish; he knew he was alone in the apartment. Next to the plate was a brown paper sack. He tucked the end of the towel so it would stay put and pulled the surprises out of the fridge.
Setting them on top of the stove, he opened the sack to find a thick sandwich on whole-grain bread, a shiny, red apple, and a peanut butter cookie. His mouth started to water as he recalled the lukewarm convenience-store hot dog that he'd downed for lunch that afternoon. He wrapped everything back up carefully and put tomorrow's lunch back where he'd found it.
The plate was next. Lifting the wrap, he found a generous serving of lasagna and two pieces of garlic bread. It only took a few minutes in the microwave, and he was sitting down to the first homemade meal he'd had in weeks. He'd done a bit of cooking, but usually he was just too tired at the end of the day. There was always take-out, but he was trying to save money for his business.
The lasagna was perfect, with just enough spice and lots of cheese. When he finished, he washed the plate and fork, drank a huge glass of water, grabbed his book on incorporating a business, and went to bed. He fell asleep six pages in and woke later to find that he'd rolled over and crumpled about half the pages. He tossed it over the edge of the mattress and was dead to the world until the alarm went off.
In the morning, he made it to the landing outside the apartment door when he noticed the snow. Cursing himself for not checking the weather report, he ran back inside for his insulated coveralls, a hat, and gloves. He pulled everything on and grabbed his lunch and the plate before pulling the door shut. The wooden stairs were slick and he realized that it had rained a bit, putting a thin layer of ice under the snow. There wasn't a light on in the house, so he decided to leave the plate on the doorstep. He'd spent a few minutes that morning deciding whether or not to leave a note thanking Mrs. Hale for the food. It had to be her. After all, who else would have had a key?
He set his lunch on his front seat and walked carefully up the slippery sidewalk. Putting the plate down, he felt a bit like a criminal, and paused before treading carefully back the way he'd come. I won't leave it like this; It's not right, he thought. The side garage door was unlocked, and it only took a few minutes to shovel the walk and spread a thin layer of ice melt granules. Nodding at the improvement, he started up the Jeep and left for work.
That morning set the stage for the days to come. Emmett took out the trash and helped with a few other outdoor tasks. Every night when he came home, there was a new meal and a freshly packed lunch in his fridge. Every morning, he would leave the clean plate near the door. He could never come up with the right words for a thank you note. In the end, he left it alone.
He didn't know when she started doing his laundry. One morning he was pulling out a t-shirt to wear for the day and noticed that everything was clean. Running his hand over his hair, he tried to think back to the last time he went to the laundromat, but he couldn't remember. As he realized that she'd probably been doing his laundry for days, he couldn't help but feel very guilty. He supposed she was only doing it because she wanted to, but it still felt odd, having someone who was essentially a stranger do something as intimate as washing his underwear. He vowed right then to be more helpful around his temporary home. If she could take care of him, he could take care of her.
Months passed like this, with Emmett working as much as possible and preparing for his future. The semi-anonymous acts of kindness continued back-and-forth between landlord and tenant.
He wasn't truly surprised when he found himself alone on Easter. Esme had called to let him know that she was canceling their traditional dinner. Carlisle had a medical conference to attend in Atlanta, and they would be traveling on Sunday. Emmett tried to tell himself it didn't matter. Since he'd moved out, the few family dinners he'd attended had been stilted and awkward. Edward was going to Bella's, and Alice would be with them. She'd offered to come to him, but it didn't feel right to make her change her plans. Still, it felt wrong to spend Easter alone. It had once been a very happy holiday for him. He slept late and went grocery shopping. When he returned, he started carrying his bags upstairs, and found a familiar red plate on the stove. This time, it was full of pink and yellow frosted sugar cookies.
For as long as he could remember, Esme had made a big batch of cut-out cookies the Saturday before Easter. The kids would spend the better part of a day, helping her roll out the dough, then cut it into tulip and daisy shapes. When they were cool, everyone sat around the big table and frosted their flowers with bright, spring colors. As he'd grown into a teenager, Emmett had balked at the sappy tradition, leaving the cookie-making to Esme, Alice, and Bella.
Looking down at the familiar shapes, he could see they were not exactly the same. The size of the cookies were a bit smaller than the ones Esme's cutters had produced, and the frosting was thinner than her recipe, but this little slice of home was completely unexpected.
Closing his eyes against a wave of emotion, he set the plate on top of the refrigerator, where it would be safe while he finished unpacking.
It didn't take long to get everything put away and make himself a plate of the ham and scalloped potatoes he'd bought from the deli. When he'd finished his solitary dinner, he got down the plate, pulled out a pink daisy and took a big bite. As he chewed, he mentally wished his family a happy holiday and hoped everyone was well, even as they were scattered across the country.
As he chewed on the buttery, sugary, sweetness, he could feel himself going back to his childhood, before he had difficult decisions to make, and before he felt like he'd been a disappointment to anyone. There was something else too. Someone had gone to a lot of trouble to do this, and it gave him a bit of hope. The only way these cookies could be here today was if someone had informed Mrs. Hale about their family tradition. That someone had gone to special lengths to make sure he felt connected even when he was alone. Without being told, he knew that person was his mother. These two women were working together to watch over him, and it could have come across as smothering or interfering, but instead, he was comforted. In spite of everything that had happened, he was still a part of one family and had been pulled under the wing of another. This knowledge comforted him for the first time in months, and he realized that maybe—just maybe—everything would be okay.