Chapter 28 – Mothers

As soon as the bell rings for the end of the day on Friday afternoon, I grab my backpack and take off towards the elementary school. Alice and I have a visit with Momma, and since Esme wants to do some work at the church I said I'll meet Alice and the two of us can walk to Mara's office.

As I'm walking my phone rings and I frown suspiciously when I see that it's Mara calling. "Hey."

"Emmett, hi…look, have you spoken to your mom today? Or yesterday?" Mara asks.

"No. Is something wrong?"

"I haven't been able to get in contact with her today, that's all. It's probably nothing, I just like to check in before a visit to make sure the parent is on track to attend." Mara sounds distracted. "We'll just have to wait and see. You and Alice are okay to come in?"

"Yeah, I'm on the way." I walk through the elementary school playground and over to Alice's classroom. "Just getting Alice now."

"Okay, I'll see you soon."

Mara hangs up and I shove the phone back in my pocket, my stomach feeling tight. Surely Momma isn't just going to blow us off? She knows the visit is scheduled; surely she'll show up.

Alice is the last one out of her classroom after the bell rings, dragging her backpack and clutching her teacher's hand. I wave at her, but when she doesn't come running I head on over.

"Hi Emmett, how are you?" Miss Casper says with a warm smile, dropping her voice to add, "Alice has been a little upset about seeing her mom tonight. It's the first full day she's had back at school too, so she's a little tired and she's been crying."

Alice's lower lip is sticking out so far she probably can't see her feet. "I want to go home."

I take her hand. "Yeah, we've got to go to Mara's office first. Say goodbye to your teacher."

Miss Casper squeezes Alice's hand and then lets her go as I tug her after me. "Have a good weekend Alice! I'll see you on Monday."

"Thanks," I say to her, as Alice gives her a half-hearted wave. "Come on Monkey, we'll be late."

"But I don't want to," Alice whines, dragging her feet. "I don't like it there…can't we go home?"

"No." I can't help being short with her. I'm already stressed enough over this visit as it is, the last thing I need is Alice to make a fuss. "We've got our visit."

The ten minute walk from the school to Mara's office feels like an hour with Alice moaning and whining and dragging her feet beside me. She doesn't want to visit. She wants to go home. She wants Esme. Why does she have to walk? She's tired. Her head hurts. Why can't she go home? She wants Carlisle. She hates Mara's office. Why does she have to visit?

Why won't you just shut up?

Alice is no happier when we're at the office, sitting in the Rainbow room this time, and once again waiting for Momma.

"Mommy's not even here," she mutters. "We didn't have to come."

I ignore her, slumping on the sofa and gnawing on my fist. I've been good for the past few days and some of the scabs have actually healed, but the new skin is pink and tender and stings and burns as my teeth pick at it. Alice glowers at me resentfully and then turns her back, sitting by the bookshelf and leafing through the picture books.

I close my eyes, focussing only on the pain in my knuckles and the tick of the clock marking the time.

"Hey, I've brought you guys a muffin." It's Mara, pushing the door open and bringing in a plate. "Anyone hungry?"

I shake my head but Alice, scowling and sulky, goes over and takes one. "I want to go home."

Mara gives her a hug. "I'm thinking your mom might not be coming today. Should I call Esme to pick you up a little bit early?"

Alice bursts into tears. "Yes!"

"But Momma's never on time and it's not…not so late." I try and keep my voice steady.

Mara looks at me sympathetically. "If she'd let me know she was definitely coming I'd say wait, but I haven't talked to her and it's been over twenty minutes now. Maddie knows the schedule. You two shouldn't have to sit here for an hour."

Alice keeps crying. "I want Esme to come."

"I'll give her a call."

Mara says we can stay in the room and wait for Esme if we want to, but Alice insists on waiting in the front reception area, plastered against the window so she'll be sure to see her right away. I reluctantly join her.

I hate sitting there with the sting of rejection making my eyes burn. I don't know whether I'm more hurt or angry, and I don't want to examine my emotions any closer in order to find out.

Esme arrives fairly soon, and after a quiet word with Mara she guides Alice and I out to the car. I'm silent as I strap Alice in and hunch in the front seat, but my sister is making enough noise for both of us.

"I didn't want to go," she tells Esme through hiccupping sobs as we drive home. "And then Mommy didn't even come! I wanted to be at home, and Emmett was so mean…"

Esme makes soothing noises but Alice keeps crying and telling Esme how Momma didn't come and she didn't want to visit either, and it's not fair.

And it's NOT fair, but her whining is killing me and as we pull into the garage I can't stop myself from saying savagely, "Will you just shut the fuck up?"

Alice stares at me for a moment through narrowed eyes. Then she sucks in a deep breath, opens her mouth as wide as it will go and screams as loudly as she can, directly into my face. In the confined space of the garage it's ear-splitting.

I'm not going to hit her. I don't think I am. But I twist in my seat and raise my hand to her, and she chokes her scream off with a look of fear so profound I know I will never forgive myself for this.

"No." Esme's hand grips my wrist, and her voice is like steel. "You don't do that Emmett."

And I don't do this. I've never hit her, never threatened her in the way I just did…and I hate myself for it, and hate this whole situation that's turning me into someone I don't even know. Yanking my arm away from Esme I rush out of the car and go inside, ignoring Edward at the piano as I go straight to my room and slam the door, sitting down on the floor with my back to it so that no one is going to come in and see me sobbing.


I ignore the knocking the first two times. But the third time Esme says my name, and I wipe my face with the hem of my t-shirt and reluctantly open the door. I don't look at her as I sit on the bed, and a moment later she sits beside me.

"I'm really sorry you didn't get to see your mom."

"It doesn't matter," I mutter.

Esme rubs my shoulder. "It does matter though," she says softly. "I can see how much it's upset you. And it's okay that you feel angry and hurt, but lashing out like that isn't acceptable."

"I wouldn't have hurt her." My voice, forced out around the lump in my throat, is barely audible.

"Intentionally…no, you wouldn't. But you are dealing with a great deal Emmett, and I think today shows that it's starting to become perhaps a little too much," Esme says. "So Carlisle and I have decided that you will be seeing a counsellor, at least for a while. This isn't a punishment, or something that you ought to feel pressured by – it's just giving you a space to talk to someone outside of the situation and work through some of your feelings. You don't have a choice about this I'm afraid, but I do hope you'll at least try and get something out of it."

I don't want counselling. What's the point of dwelling on things? And what is talking going to achieve? It's pretty fucking clear that my whole life is completely out of my control and the only thing that I can do is roll with it – it's not like anything I do is going to affect the outcome. But Esme's tone doesn't allow argument, so I nod mutely and give in to the inevitable.

"What you feel isn't wrong," Esme goes on. "But there are healthier and more appropriate ways to express those feelings, and I think you could do with some help in that area. Would you prefer to speak with the school counsellor at Camden, or see someone outside of school?"

"Outside school," I mutter. I'm already self-conscious enough there – I don't need more people watching me head off to the psychologist and wondering what my problem is.

"That's fine; I'll set something up."

"I'm really sorry," I say, so softly I don't even know if she'll hear me. I can't look at her. I hate the thought that I've disappointed her. I hate that I've ruined the good thing we have here.

"Emmett, look at me."

I don't want to. I'm so scared of what I'll see in her face that lifting my eyes to meet hers is one of the hardest things I've ever done. But Esme just looks steadily back at me with the same calm friendliness as always, and gives me a half smile. "It's all right."

I can feel tears in my eyes, and I bite savagely on my fist to distract myself. "But I was so…I'm sorry. I shouldn't have got so mad."

Esme wraps her arm around me and squeezes. "You're a good person Emmett, you really are…I have never doubted that for a second. And you have every right to feel the way you do – your mother let you down today and that's not fair."

"I thought that maybe you wouldn't want me around, if I was going to do stuff like that." I can't stop the tears now, and I feel like I'm five years old again.

"Oh sweetheart no," Esme says. "That's not how it works. Until you can go home to your mother, you have a home and a family here no matter what. It's not always going to be perfect – you'll make mistakes, I'll make mistakes; there will be misunderstandings and hurt feelings, and probably sometimes we won't even like each other very much. But that happens in families, and it doesn't mean we just give up on each other. We can say sorry and make amends, and work on the problem until we've found a solution. Okay?"

I nod dumbly and Esme hugs me again even tighter this time. "I know today was hard," she whispers. "But you'll get through this Emmett, I promise."

For a moment I drop my head and rest it against her shoulder. Why can't my own mom do this? Why isn't our family "no matter what"?

When we leave my room I find Alice at the piano, concentrating fiercely on playing Old MacDonald had a Farm. I wait for the appropriate moment and make pig noises at her, and she laughs and clashes the keys. "Emmett!"

I sit on the piano bench beside her. "You okay?"

"Yes. Listen to my song!"

I listen to her painstaking playing, and applaud enthusiastically when she's finished. "You're doing so great!" I hesitate for a moment and then say, "I'm sorry I yelled at you."

"Why do we have to visit anyway?" Alice frowns.

"Momma wants to see us."

"Then why didn't she even come?" Alice demands, and I don't have an answer for that one. "I don't care," she adds fiercely. "I want to stay here with Esme and not visit anyway."

I press one of the piano keys. "I don't think it works that way."

"It's better here," Alice says very quietly. "No one yells, not even when I wet the bed and ate the last cookie without asking, and no one hits. Esme is such a nice mom...this is better."

"She's not our mom though," I say, my voice low. "And we're going to have to go home again one day…Esme can't be your mom, Alice, not just because you want to stay here."

"Well that's stupid," Alice says, kicking the leg of the piano bench. "Esme likes me and it's better here, so we should just stay."

Her lip trembles, but even as I reach my hand out to comfort her she's sliding down from the bench and running into the kitchen to Esme. It's the first time in years that she's turned to someone else instead of me when she's feeling bad, and for a moment I just sit there stunned.

It's always been you and me, Monkey…what are you doing? Please don't let that go.

Edward comes in, looking surprised when he sees me sitting at the piano. "Would you like a lesson?" he enquires dryly. "Alice has left out the music for Old MacDonald, we could start with that."

I laugh shakily. "Uh, no thanks; I'll leave that to her. Do you want the piano?" I get up from the bench. "I'm just leaving."

Edward looks at me for a moment and then says, "Well, I was going to practise but…would you like to play some x-box instead? I downloaded a new game the other day, but it will be better as a two-player I think."

Edward is quiet and smart and studies like he enjoys it, but even though the two of us have almost nothing in common it's as though he gets me. After everything that happened today – and I have no doubt he's well aware –hanging out playing x-box and pretending like I've got nothing else to worry about sounds perfect.

"Yeah, I'll play," I say, forcing a smile. "But get ready to have your ass whooped, cause I'm taking no prisoners today."


I call Rosalie later. I wait until I've said goodnight and gone into my room, making myself comfortable in bed and then finding her number in my phone. Next to me Alice is already asleep, burrowed down under her quilt so that all I can see is the top of her head.

Rosalie and I have talked every night this week, and she picks up right away. "Hi."

"Hey you," I say, my spirits lifting just as the sound of her voice. "What are you doing?"

"Sitting in the bathtub."

"What…naked?" The images this brings to mind make me really wish that Alice wasn't right beside me.

"No, in my clothes…of course I'm nude!" Rosalie says, adding in a hard voice. "And no, I'm not texting you pictures, asshole."

"What the fuck?" This conversation is going places I never expected. "I didn't ask you to!"

There's a long silence. "Sorry," Rosalie says eventually. "I guess I jumped to conclusions there."

"Just a bit!" I'm still rattled. "Why do you even think I'd ask?"

"Because I've spent the last year and a half dating a guy who never stopped asking," Rosalie says reluctantly. "Royce always wanted a lot more than I wanted to give him, and he didn't like being told no."

"Well, I'm not him," I say bluntly.

"No, you're not. And that's a really good thing…" I can tell she's smiling. "I'm sorry I jumped on you. How was your visit?"

"Momma didn't show."

"Oh Emmett, I'm sorry," Rosalie says. "Do you know why? Do you think there's something wrong?"

"What, besides meth?" I laugh without humour. "No. I haven't talked to her, but I'm pretty sure Momma just found something else to do with her time today."

"Was Alice okay?"

"She didn't even want to visit in the first place. She's decided she's perfectly happy here and that Esme is a much better candidate to be her mom." I look at her sleeping next to me. "Which…well, she's not wrong, is she? If we're keeping score then Esme is probably a much better mother. But it's not as though you just get to choose, and it kind of worries me that Alice has completely written Momma off."

"I used to wish Esme was my mother," Rosalie admits.

"Why?" I'm honestly baffled. I've never met Rosalie's mother, but all that money and that house and always having everything she wanted…how bad could it be? "What's wrong with your mother?"

"Well, I haven't even seen her in seven and a half weeks, for one," Rosalie says lightly. "I think I told you she's a photographer? Look, I'm not complaining…my mom is great at what she does and she's won a lot of awards and published some really important articles. Particularly for a woman in her field she's done some amazing stuff, and I know that a lot of kids have parents who travel for work. I'm a big girl now and I do fine with just Dad and whoever we have working here."

I can tell she means to sound casual, but there's the faintest catch in her voice that makes me suspect that she maybe hasn't outgrown the need for her mother the way she'd like to think she has.

"But when I was little I really wanted a mother who was around…I used to pretend that Esme was mine." Rosalie sighs. "You probably think that's stupid."

"No. I don't think you're the only one who wishes they had a mom like Esme." I lay a hand on Alice's back and think about bawling on Esme's shoulder earlier. "Definitely not the only one."