CHAPTER 38

At 4:53 pm I heard someone pulling into the driveway...

...and my heart started to race. Did Emma get here early?

But, no, it was Mom. A minute later, she walked through the front door with several suits wrapped in dry cleaner's bags draped over her arm.

"Hi, Alyssa...here," she said, handing them to me. "Lay these over the chair in my bedroom; I want to put them on proper hangers before hanging them in the closet."

Not wanting to miss Emma's arrival (like last time), I sprinted upstairs and dropped off the suits...

...then tore back downstairs and stationed myself by the front bay window...

...watching, breathless, while listening to the mantel clock tick away the seconds with maddening slowness! There was no sign of Emma yet, but she's never late, so I'm sure she'll show up any minute, and besides, didn't she say she has to run an errand? I wonder what it is...possibly going to the store for her Grandmom again?

My heart was now hammering, not only because I'd run up and down the stairs, but also because, to be honest, I'm still nervous about her coming over.

Nervous and shy.

"Alyssa, I need to see you in the kitchen," Mom called.

DAMN!

I hated the thought of leaving my sentry post, but I didn't want to provoke my spoilsport mother into a bad mood either, so I walked in there...

...and then proceeded to answer a zillion pointless question about how my day went.

To my credit, I did a pretty good job of keeping my growing annoyance from creeping into my voice.

Fiiiinally, Mom had her fill of interrogating me and said, "I can't wait to ask Emma how the prom plans are coming along so far."

"Uh, Mom, please don't do that."

"Why not?"

"Because it would be an exercise in futility; the whole thing is top secret. She wants to surprise me and refuses to give out any info, on any aspect of it, no matter how many times I ask."

Mom thought this over for a moment, then said, "Well, I don't want to spoil the surprise, so I won't ask her anything about it. Now, come and help me set the table."

CRAP!

As badly as I wanted to resume staring, stalker-like, out the front window in search of Emma, now it wasn't an option so I grabbed the correct cutlery from the top drawer and followed Mom into the dining room.

Like always, I let her go first...

...and just as she was setting the last piece of china in place, the doorbell rang.

"I GOT IT!" I yelled, dropping what I was holding...

...and twenty pieces of flatware clattered onto the table top as I raced to the front door and flung it open.

"Hi! Come on in!" I said...

...but the second Emma crossed the threshold...

...Mom intercepted her...

...and taking Emma by the arm, marched her down the hall to the first floor bathroom (where she had moved all of her first aid gear).

The room is too small for the three of us, so I wasn't able to watch, but the door was open and from where I sat on the living room couch, I could hear the entire process unfold as Mom inspected, and then tended to, Emma's scraped wrist.

As soon as they came back, Mom told me to go wash my hands; and as I headed down the hall, she finished setting the table.

When I returned from the bathroom, Emma was already seated and, as usual, I sat down directly across from her. At first, I'd hated this arrangement, but now I actually like it because I get to look at her the entire time...

...and of course, that's exactly what I did...

...but this evening, something was...off.

Mom was tired from work, so we ate in silence, which was okay because it's something neither Emma nor I mind...

...but it wasn't Mom who was acting "off..."

...it was Emma.

Through the entire meal she stared down at her plate; I mean, she was eating, but for some reason she also appeared to be...highly agitated.

At first I thought she was scared Mom would realize what the two of us had been up to in Barry's hotel room - and also earlier today in the auto shop - but as I studied her expression carefully, I was certain that what she was feeling wasn't guilt.

It was...something else.

But although I tried, I absolutely could not figure out what.

I sneaked a glance over at Mom, who was looking across the table at Emma...clearly puzzled.

As much as I wanted to know what was going on, I didn't want to ask her in front of Mom, for numerous reasons. I wasn't sure what to do, but since she didn't seem like she was actually distraught, or about to cry, I decided that whatever it was could probably wait a little while, and resolved to take her aside and ask her later...and if unable to do that tonight, then to definitely call her sometime tomorrow.

Dinner, as usual, was delish. A first course of mushroom bisque, followed by hanger steak with roasted red bliss potatoes and baby carrots.

To be honest, vanilla-infused rice pudding is kind of a lame dessert...but still way better than friggin' poached pears!

I thought that by now Emma would have settled down, at least a little, but although she did finish her dessert she still seemed every bit as agitated...

...and I noticed Mom looking at her again.

Mom cleared the table, then said, "Okay, girls, it's homework time; so bring all of your books into the kitchen and-"

Actually, Mr. Rapp didn't assign us any homework this weekend," I said.

This surprised Mom. She thought it over for a moment, then said, "Well, on TV in half an hour are the finals for the Warminster Dog Show. I was going to watch that, and you two are welcome to join me.

"Okay," I agreed.

For the record, I love watching dog shows with Mom...because it's always hilarious to see her cringe every time the announcer says "bitch."

Mom turned to me. "Before we do, I need you to help me change a light bulb."

I nodded. "Let me guess...the one in the pantry that's been flickering for the past month?"

"Yes," she said, "it finally burned out this morning."

"Okay, sure."

Mom turned to Emma. "Why don't you head into the living room and sit down. We'll be there in a few minutes.

Now looking extremely pale, Emma nodded and got up from her chair...

...and I noticed Mom staring after her as she walked away.

Finally I followed Mom into the kitchen. I grabbed our tall step ladder from the utility closet, and she got a new light bulb from a kitchen drawer, and then we went into the pantry, leaving the door wide open so there would be enough light to see by.

I opened up the ladder and then, as directed, put my hands on Mom's shoulders for balance, and climbed up onto the top step.

Immediately, Mom wrapped her right arm securely around my knees, then reached behind me and clapped her left palm flat against my butt to keep me from falling over backwards.

While I love our home's high ceilings, changing the light bulbs is a real pain - especially when my mother is micromanaging the entire project.

"Don't stand on your tiptoes and don't move your feet and don't over-reach and don't lean too far in any direction and don't drop the old bulb and don't stick your finger in the empty socket and don't - young lady, did you just roll your eyes?!"

"No, I was, uh, just...looking up at the light fixture," I lied.

Even though I was several feet off the floor, the fixture was still almost out of my reach. Taking a deep breath, I stretched my right arm up as far as I could, and then my hand, and after a bit of jiggling with my fingertips, got the bulb loose enough to unscrew.

After removing it, I handed it down to Mom...

...who gave me the new one (and then immediately grabbed onto my butt again), and I screwed it in and then descended the ladder.

After I put it away, the two of us walked into living room...

...but instead of sitting on the couch waiting for us, Emma was standing down at its far end...

...red-faced and shaking.

I glanced over at Mom...

...who had seen enough.

Walking to the other end of the couch, she said, "Emma, your face is all flushed; are you coming down with something?" Before Emma could answer, Mom carefully felt her forehead and both of her cheeks.

"You don't feel feverish." Then she looked at her sympathetically and asked, "Do you hurt anywhere?"

Emma shook her head.

"Are you sure?"

Emma nodded...

...and then opened her mouth...

...but no sound came out...

...but finally, she said, "I g-got y-you s-something."

Her hands were shaking so badly that she could barely unzip her backpack, but finally, she managed to open it. Reaching inside, she pulled out a wide, flat box; and looking up at Mom, held it out to her.

From the way Mom's eyes lit up, I knew exactly what it was.

She said, "Alyssa must have told you that these are my favorite." But then, she frowned and said, "But I don't want you to waste your money buying me gifts! You should be saving it for college!"

Looking hurt, Emma bit her lower lip and stared down at the floor...

...and realizing her mistake, Mom said, "Oh, Emma, I didn't mean that the way it sounded. It was very sweet of you to think of me."

Silence.

"And I promise you that I'm going to enjoy these. Thank you so much."

With her head still bowed, Emma took a hesitant, shaky step closer to Mom.

Taking Emma's face gently in both of her hands, she raised it up...

...and then, looking into her eyes, she said kindly, "This is lovely of you and I really appreciate it...but no more, okay?"

Emma nodded.

Mom smiled, then leaned down and kissed Emma's forehead. "Now, let's watch TV, shall we?"

I sat down in the middle of the couch, with Mom on my left and Emma on my right...

...and since there were now three of us on it, I was able to sit closer than ever to Emma...with less than a foot of space between us!

Next, I sneaked a look over at her, and was so relieved to see that she looked much more relaxed.

As Mom fiddled with the remote, I thought, well, now I know what Emma's errand was...and why she was so nervous.

The Warminster Dog Show is the only TV program that I simultaneously love and hate. Love - because the dogs are so gorgeous and talented, and hate - because the announcer is this long-winded bore who walks around like she has a broom handle up her butt...and talks mostly about herself, instead of the contestants!

Still, sometimes you have to take the bad with the good...and so I made the best of things...enjoying the dog parts, and doing my best to shut out the windbag every time she started bloviating.

Maybe twenty minutes into the program, during one of her countless, mind-numbing soliloquies, I thought I noticed something with my peripheral vision. I wasn't sure, though, so while still facing the screen, I lowered my eyes...

...and then shifted them to the right...

...and at first thought I was mistaken...

...but, no, Emma's left hand was actually moving across her left leg...toward the outside of her thigh. It was creeping over so slowly that it had to be deliberate - I mean, if your hand slides off your leg, it usually happens quickly, but hers was moving with barely-noticeable slowness.

Without being obvious, I watched it, for nearly a minute, and then glanced back up at the screen...

...which currently pictured 90% windbag, and only10% Irish Setter...

...then shifted my eyes downward again...

...watching as Emma's hand finally left her thigh completely and made contact with the area of sofa cushion between us...

...and then, to my amazement...

...slowly but surely, she turned it palm-up...

...and, suddenly, I knew exactly what that meant!

And then, I heard the sound of faint, shallow breathing...

...and subtly shifting my gaze upward, watched Emma's chest quickly rising and falling.

And I knew what she wanted...

...but as badly as I wanted to reach down with my own hand...

...I knew I didn't dare!

Mom was sitting right next to me...and I was terrified!

The only time she's ever seen us holding hands was for less than two minutes that afternoon in the gym, when I came out, and it had freaked her out completely!

And now...to do it again, under her roof...right in front of her?

But then again, what's the worst she can do to me? I thought...

...and so, slowly, and with considerable effort, I managed to move my right hand across my right thigh...

...a fraction of an inch.

No! What the hell! Alyssa, don't! She could throw Emma out of the house...and maybe never invite her over again! So, there's no way I could possibly...

...but I want to...so badly!

And with my hand now shaking hard - and with Herculean effort - I managed to move it to the right...

...another half inch.

Oh, God...I want to! But I'm too scared! And suddenly, I realized that my breathing was as shallow and rapid as Emma's...

...but as badly as I wanted to, I knew I couldn't...

...and just as I admitted to myself that it wasn't going to happen...

...ever...

...Mom, with her eyes still on the screen, leaned over to her right...

...and reaching across my lap, she took hold of my right wrist, lifted my hand off my thigh, and then moved it over...

...setting it down, palm-to-palm, on top of Emma's.

As she returned to sitting upright, I thought, How the hell did she do that?

Or even see it in the first place?

Her eyes never left the screen!

Is it true what they say...that mothers have eyes in the backs (or in this case, the sides) of their heads?

I filed that question away for future deliberation...

...and turned my attention back to where it belonged...

...to my hand...and Emma's.

She hadn't moved hers...and I hadn't moved mine, either...

...because I was both shocked and (still) apprehensive. But then, slowly and hardly daring to breathe, I spread my fingers apart, and then, even more slowly, lowered them down between Emma's, until they were touching the sofa upholstery...

...and then, Emma began to gradually curl her fingers...

..and I did the same.

And then, as I held her hand, my heart started pounding twice as hard.

Turning my attention back to the screen I saw, to my relief, that (for the moment) the windbag had finally run of hot air...

...but my celebration of this was short-lived.

It was time for a commercial...

...not just any commercial...

...but my least favorite one of all time!

I'm not trying to be rude...I mean, the organization does wonderful work...

...but to see endless footage of sad, abused, starving, broken doggies and kitties, while the lady with the sad voice (I forget her name) starts singing that tear-jerker song about angels, really wrecks me.

And it's not even 30 seconds long, like a normal commercial! Instead, it's three minutes of sheer tortuous hell!

I considered my options.

There weren't many.

I could watch and start crying my eyes out like an idiot...right in front of Mom and Emma? NO!

I could run out of the room like a coward? NO!

But suddenly, I knew exactly what to do.

No matter what format of show or movie we're watching, there's always a wide, black bar across the top and bottom of our TV screen. I know I can tolerate listening to the song if I don't have to look at the poor, unloved doggies and kitties at the same time; and so, with my face still pointed squarely at the screen...

...I lowered my gaze and stared intently at the shiny, bottom black bar...

...and suddenly, my eyes grew wide...

...because guess whose knees and hands you can clearly see reflected in it?

Everyone's!

So, that's how she noticed!

Maybe moms don't have eyes in the backs (or sides) of their heads after all.

Two hours later - while relieved that I wouldn't have to listen to that windbag for another year(!) - I followed Mom and Emma to the front door.

Mom said, "Emma, thank you again for the gift." She hesitated, then added, "I'm not sure of my schedule for next week, but we're going to have you over again soon."

"Thank you so much for dinner," Emma replied.

Mom smiled down at her...

...and then looked farther down, at Emma's chest, and said, "According to the weather forecast, it's in the low 50s tonight." She reached down and zipped up the front of Emma's hooded sweat jacket, then asked, "How's the heater in your truck?"

"It works fine."

"Well, goodnight, Emma," Mom said, and then she disappeared into the kitchen...

...LEAVING THE TWO OF US ALL ALONE AT THE FRONT DOOR!

I couldn't believe it...

...and kept staring in the direction of the kitchen, expecting her to emerge from it any second...

...but she didn't...

...and since, instead of hearing Mom's usual rattling around, there was only profound silence...

...I knew the reason why she went in there...

...and it had nothing to do with cooking.

And so, I walked over to Emma and kissed her...

...and held her closer to me than I ever had before.

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