CHAPTER 34

{Alyssa}

Wednesday afternoon right after school, I rushed through all of my non-History homework so Mom couldn't use it as a reason to send Emma home early!

By 5 pm, I was downstairs pacing rapidly back and forth across the living room, stopping only when Mom's car pulled into the end of our driveway. Not wanting her to see how anxious I was, I threw myself down onto the couch and focused on returning my breathing to a normal cadence; because honestly, I was extremely nervous about Emma coming back over again.

All things considered, Saturday afternoon had gone pretty well, but had that just been a freak accident? Also, who knows what kind of day Mom's had at work? If it was awful, would she snap during dinner and start yelling at Emma, even if she had done nothing wrong?

When Mom opened the front door, with her other arm wrapped around a brown grocery bag, I studied her face carefully...

...and also, the sound of her voice as she asked me how school went.

Okay, she seems to be in relatively good spirits.

So far, so good.

Once she disappeared into the kitchen, I started glancing back and forth between the mantel clock and our front bay window, because the instant Emma came to the door, I was going to rush straight over to it and sneak in some desperately-needed kisses before Mom could come out of the kitchen and catch us!

But, unfortunately, nature was calling...

...loudly.

I ignored it for as long as I could, but as you know that sort of thing does NOT go away on its own, so at 5:51 I was forced to run down the hall to the bathroom...

...while consoling myself that Emma won't be here for another nine minutes, which is more than enough time for me to take a fast leak.

Unfortunately, mid-stream, the doorbell rang, so I tried to "speed things up" and pee faster...

...but before I could finish, Mom called, "I'll get it."

CRAP!

Four minutes later (I'd been successfully programmed to NEVER skip washing my hands), I emerged from the bathroom...

...hoping to find Emma waiting for me in the living room...

...alone...

...but to my disappointment, they both were in the kitchen.

Heaving a silent sigh, I walked through the door, to see Emma standing right next to Mom, who was slicing/dicing something and saying, "...don't mind at all if you watch. Dinner will be ready in about fifteen minutes."

"Hi," I said, walking up behind Emma.

"Hi!" she said, turning in my direction...

...and then, after taking a fast glance back over her shoulder...

...and making sure Mom's eyes were still on her cutting board...

...Emma reached up and ran her hand down my cheek!

It took a couple of minutes for me to get my nerve up, but just as I was about to suggest the two of us go "chat" on the living room couch...

...my killjoy mother told Emma to go wash up for dinner.

Staring longingly at your girlfriend's butt as she walks down the hall away from you is not an acceptable substitute for grabbing it - with both hands - and pulling her close!

I sat down to wait.

As Emma returned from the bathroom, I glanced at the clock, wondering how many kisses I could cram into a nine minute window of time...

...however, the second her ass hit the sofa cushion...

...Mom walked out of the kitchen and began setting the dining room table...

...which is only ten feet away!

CRAP!

At least dinner, while nearly silent, was delicious. Chicken Francaise, with fresh asparagus and grape tomatoes, all of it swimming in a creamy lemon garlic sauce.

For the record, poached pears are NOT my idea of a real dessert, but I'll grudgingly give Mom half a point for trying.

Fortunately during the meal, Mom didn't grill Emma at all...maybe because she'd just had a difficult day at work and wanted to enjoy some peace and quiet? I spent most of the time sneaking peeks across the table at Emma, who complimented Mom on the entree and looked fairly relaxed...

...unlike me, who was an irrational, paranoid wreck inside!

Once we'd finished, I ran upstairs to get my History book, pen, and notebook and then joined Emma at the kitchen table. Unfortunately she was sitting a maddening three inches out of the reach of my eager left hand, which meant I couldn't run it appreciatively over her leg, under the table.

Since our History assignment involved a lot of reading and note-taking, there was no real reason to speak, so we sat in silence...

...and. finally, I began to relax. I loved that she was here and kept looking over to where she sat. Something about having her with me, under this roof, while Mom tidied the kitchen behind us, filled me with a kind of joyful bliss that I can't really put into words.

About ninety minutes later, Mom had finished her cleaning projects and doing the mise en place for tomorrow's dinner. "Girls, I think that's enough studying for one evening," she said. "Why don't we sit in the living room for a little while?"

Emma loaded up her backpack, and then I followed her out of the kitchen. Walking over to the couch, she sat down at its left end...and then, I sat down on her right, not directly next to her, but at least not all the way at the opposite end like last time!

A minute later, Mom settled into her favorite chair, across from us, but then, seeming to remember something, got up again and went back into the kitchen for a moment...

...but soon returned and handed something white to Emma.

Looking down at it, she asked, "What's this?"

"I bought you some new sneaker laces," Mom replied. "Your old ones are looking downright ratty. Even if you take them out and wash them, they're so frayed, especially at the ends, that you might not be able to get them back in."

Emma said thanks, and then bent down and took off her sneakers.

"Give me one," I offered.

She did, and we spent next couple of minutes in silence re-lacing them.

Then, she put them back on...

...but as she was bent down tying them, Mom said, "Emma, what's that?"

"What's what?"

"That," Mom replied...

...but since I was sitting over on Emma's right and Mom was pointing toward something on her left, I couldn't see what she was referring to.

"Oh, that?" Emma replied. "Uh, it's...nothing."

Mom shook her head. "Even from over here, I can see that it's not nothing."

"Really, it's no big dea-" Emma began...

...but Mom was already on her feet.

Walking around the end of the coffee table, she stopped in front of Emma and held out her hand.

Emma looked up at her, not moving...

...but then, Mom raised her eyebrows expectantly...

...and Emma obediently held out her left arm.

Mom took hold of it, and then moved the cuff of Emma's left sweatshirt sleeve out of the way, and I saw, for the first time, the oversize bandaid on top of her left wrist.

"What happened here?" Mom asked.

"Two days ago, I was making a sandwich, but the cutting board slipped sideways, and the serrated knife kinda hit my wrist...a little...but, it's fine."

"No, it's not fine," Mom replied. "Look how red your skin is, here around the edge. We're going upstairs."

"B-but-"

"To the bathroom."

"B-but-"

"On your feet, Missy...right now!" Mom insisted...

...in her 'don't argue with me, young lady' tone of voice...

...and Emma quickly jumped up off the couch.

I followed them up the stairs.

In the bathroom, Mom led Emma over to the sink. She washed and dried her own hands and then, reaching down, she took hold of Emma's left arm. Lifting it, she pushed her sweatshirt sleeve up to her elbow and took a closer look.

One glance at her face told me that she did not like what she was seeing.

I sat down on the edge of the bathtub and watched as Mom carefully removed Emma's bandaid...

...which took a while, since it was stuck to what it was covering...

...and then, she surveyed the damage carefully.

"Kinda hit your wrist a little?" she repeated. "More like you scraped the hell out of it! Emma, what you have here could easily turn into a very nasty infection. When was your last tetanus shot?"

"Uh...three years ago."

Mom nodded, the asked, "And what have you done for this, so far?"

"Uh, I washed it...twice."

"What did you wash it with?"

"Um...the bar of soap on my bathroom sink."

Mom shook her head, then opened our mirrored medicine chest and started pulling things out of it...including a half-full pump bottle of antibacterial wash. She turned on the hot and cold faucets and after fiddling with the water temperature, took hold of Emma's hand and gently but thoroughly washed it, her wrist, and halfway up her forearm.

After drying it with a clean towel, she reached for a small, dark bottle...

...and I felt my toes curl...

...because I knew exactly what was coming next.

"Emma, this is going to sting...a little," she said.

I have to give Emma credit for not actually shrieking (which I myself always do when subjected to this part of the ritual), but instead she turned her head and scrunched her eyes shut, and I heard the sharp intake of breath through her gritted teeth.

A minute later, Mom said, "Good girl...the hard part's over," (just like she's always told me...since I was five(!); then she applied antiseptic cream, and finally, a new bandage.

Then, she got a clean plastic wastebasket liner out of a drawer and put the bottle of wash into it, saying, "You can keep this; we have another one...and here are some extra bandaids."

"Thanks, Mrs. Greene."

"Emma look at me."

She did.

"Alyssa is going to be checking on this, every day. She's going to report back, and if I don't like what I hear, then you and I are going to...have a little chat; do you understand?"

Emma nodded soberly.

Mom looked at her watch. "Well, it's getting late, so we'll call it a night," she said, handing the bag to Emma.

I did my best to hide my disappointment. It seemed like she'd only just got here...and I wanted the evening to continue...for at least another month!

At the front door, Emma thanked Mom...

...who stared down at her for a very long time...

...and then asked, "Are you free Friday evening?"

"Yes," Emma replied...

...and my heart jumped violently in my chest!

Oh, my God...another invite?!

"Well, then, why don't you drop by at 5:30, and we'll have dinner at six?" Mom said.

"I'd love to!"

As badly as I wanted to hug and kiss her goodnight (thanks to that dumb sub sale, I was suffering through a very painful and prolonged Emma drought), I couldn't bring myself to do it with Mom standing right there, so I just smiled at Emma, and said, "Well, I'll be busy during lunch tomorrow, so I guess I'll see you then."

She nodded and said, "Goodnight, Alyssa."

Mom opened the door for Emma...

...but I couldn't watch as she drove off...

...it would be way too sad.

So, I just stood there, staring at the closed door...

...listening to the sound of her truck as it backed it down the driveway, into the street, and then receded into the distance as she disappeared into the night.

XXXXX

{Emma}

Since Alyssa wasn't able to meet me in the auto shop, I sat down in the office's desk chair (which I turned to directly face the "rat couch" (just in case), and spent the time thinking about Friday's upcoming dinner at her house.

Suddenly I had an idea and, although the thought of it made me incredibly nervous, I decided to go through with it anyway and laid my plans accordingly.

Late this afternoon, as I pulled into the parking lot of Barry's hotel and parked my truck...I gasped. I had completely forgotten what I'd promised him I'd do tonight! Unzipping my backpack, I pulled out a piece of notebook paper and a pen...and hastily scribbled down the names of my six favorite types of candy bars. Folding the paper several times, I slid it into the pocket of my plaid shirt, then locked up my truck and hurried toward the hotel entrance.

Less than two minutes later, I was knocking on his door.