This paint has been tasting of lead

And their chips will fall as they may

But it's not just my finish that is peeling

It is not alone fleeing these walls

When we pulled up to the humble abode we would be staying at, I was afraid to look at her face. There's some things that you never want to do and to prove Emma Nelson right is one of them.

Her demeanor in the car had thrown me off, the sound of her voice made me want to turn the car around right there and take her home and leave her there and make her forget that any of this ever happened, make her forget that she ever knew me. Life doesn't work like that, though. She was here and what else could I do but try to make things better for her? I might have been lying when I said I wasn't going to disappoint her, because that's what I'm good at.

I think I'll always pinpoint the time when I was seven that proved to me that I was a failure. I was on the verge of failing the second grade for some reason I can't even remember anymore and I just remember coming home when my father had gotten the news and the smell of alcohol on his breath will never, ever leave my mind. He was rough, on the edge of abusive, but he never touched me. He screamed in my face until he couldn't see straight and then he left and I didn't see him for a week. My mom just took me into her bedroom and let me sleep and I vowed from then on that whatever happened, I would always love her. I couldn't save her, but I would always love her.

Looking over at Emma, I saw that same face that I saw on my mother that day. A lost feeling, helplessness and longing. I knew that this wouldn't save Emma, but I knew at that moment, I would always have a special place for her. I would always love her. "So, this is it," she said, unenthusiastic and quiet.

Okay, I'll admit, it wasn't much. One of those little rancher motels you would see at the side of the road with the doors about a foot apart from each other. I wanted to do better for her, I really wanted to.

"I know it's not much, Emma, but it'll get better. I'm going to work to get us somewhere nicer to stay," I said, offering up the only explanation I had. She nodded slowly, laying her head against the seat of the car, closing her eyes and probably wondering how the hell she had gotten herself into this mess. I watched her for a moment before getting out of the car. "Do you want to see home sweet home?" I asked her, poking my head through the window I had left open. She bit her lip for a moment before nodding and stepping out of the car, grabbing her bag from the back seat and shutting the car door with such force that I didn't know that she had anymore.

"Let's go," she said firmly, walking in front of me. I nodded, not answering, but following her lead as we made our way into the lobby.

The lobby looked a lot like the way I felt. The paint was chipping off the walls and the seat cushions had holes in them where the inside was poking out and there was this ghastly music playing that made you feel like you were on the edge of something miserable. The guy at the front desk seemed miserable too, lost in a sea of papers, he looked like he'd rather be anywhere but there.

I walked up to him and cleared my throat, while Emma stood idly behind me. He looked up from his mounds of paperwork and rolled his eyes, probably at the fact of how old we were. How young we were.

"You checking in?" he asked, bringing his eyes back down to his paper. I nodded, "Yes, I called a couple of days ago to reserve a room?"

He sighed out of boredom, "Name?" I turned around to look at Emma for a moment, who shrugged her shoulders and made a gesture to indicate that he was a little bit crazy. I laughed to myself and turned around to see him looking at me expectantly and shooting a death glare at Emma. I just shook my head, wanting to get out of there as quick as possible.

"Jay Hogart." He scanned down the list of occupants and found my name, grabbing a key on the wall. "Room 155, it's halfway down the hall. I hope you enjoy your stay," he said dryly, handing me the key and turning his attention back to his paperwork. "Thanks," I replied, just as dryly and turned back to Emma, "Come on."

She nodded and followed me down the hallway. "What was up with that guy?" she asked, laughing out loud. I shook my head as we reached our room, "Imagine working here everyday, I guess that will have an affect on your mental stability. I mean, really. Or he was dropped on his head as a kid." Emma laughed again, and I couldn't help but think what a beautiful sound it was and if that was the only thing I had to hear for the rest of my life, I'd be satisfied.

As I looked at the door to our room, I turned my head to look at her. "Are you ready?" I asked. She nodded, "Ready as I'll ever be." I nodded back and turned the key in the door.

Well sooner or later this cold is gonna break

So our hands will be warm again

But all I want is to not need you now

And sooner or later this code is gonna break

Our words will be heard again

But all I want are vows of silence now

Walking inside the room, it wasn't anything and it wasn't something. It was just there. There were two beds, the sheets faded, but clean. There were dreary pictures of flowers and rainstorms on the wall and an old television that you probably had to dance around with the antennae on your head for it to work. There was a small round table and two chairs in the corner with a dangling lamp above it. There was a tiny bathroom and a small closet across from it. I could see now that Emma would be getting that, and probably most of the dressers considering she had only brought most of her wardrobe with her.

I walked further into the room to allow Emma to look around, but I was afraid to face her because I didn't want to know what her reaction would be. It was okay for my standards, but most likely horrible for hers. You can only imagine my relief when she said, "It's not bad," in an assuring tone. I turned around to see her smiling at me, "We'll make it work." I nodded and put my bags down, "We will."

We had spent most of the rest of the day unpacking, not saying much to each other. I'm not sure if it was the awkwardness of the finality of the situation that laid before us or that we weren't sure what the right things to say were. This was our new reality, this was our new life. The formality and the seriousness of it was enough to make anyone speechless.

Night was fast approaching and I had just taken a shower. I was wearing an old pair of sweatpants and a baggy shirt that my mother had given to me years ago that never saw the light of day. A week ago, I would have killed anyone that saw me like this, but Emma was all I had left. I was beginning to realize that things like that just didn't matter anymore.

The frightening facts

We've been facing our backs for so long now

They're begging for eyes to bear witness to lies

And indifference

I walked out of the bathroom and my eyes fell on the most perfect vision I think I'll ever see. There was Emma sitting at the round table, her hair falling loosely on the shoulders and in her face, she wore sweatpants and a white tanktop and I swear that I've never seen anyone more beautiful. She had her face hidden inside a book that she had brought with her, so caught up that she didn't even notice me staring. I started to walk towards her when the floor creaked and she looked up, smiling a bit at me.

"Nice outfit," she commented, raising her eyebrows. I pointed my index finger at her as I sat down next to her, "Hey, watch it. This is what you call style." She laughed slowly, bringing her eyes back down to her book, "Yeah, where would they call it that?"

I laughed, not being able to take my eyes off of her, "They call it that somewhere, I swear." She just shook her head and kept her eyes on her book, but the same smile that made me fall in love with her all over again still played on her lips.

As I watched her, I thought of our time together. The fights that we had a year ago, Wasaga Beach, the ravine, our trip here .. everything just pointed to the fact that I had always loved her. Even when I said I hated her, I had always loved her. She was always something that I never thought I'd be able to have. Maybe it was the fact that everything else seemed lost, but I knew I had to say something. My mind was telling me otherwise, it must have tried to talk me out of it a hundred times. But, I had to do this.

"Emma?" I said her name quietly, almost in hopes that she wouldn't hear me and I could take back this crazy idea. She looked up from her book at me as she swept her hair from her face. Her lovely face. She looked brave. I don't know why, but I had a vision of her sitting on her knees while I stroked her long, blonde hair and that, to me, was heaven.

Suddenly, I said it. "I love you. It's driven me crazy." She looked at me for a moment, stunned. "I see," she said quietly, her voice wavering. She didn't look at me anymore.

I never expected to do it that way. I never expected to do it then. In my dreams, it was always that we'd look into each other's eyes one day and then, we kissed and nothing was said until after. My father once told me that you should never tell a woman that you love her. If you have to say it, say it jokingly, because he said that it kept the women after you. You had to play hard to get. The silly thing was, I told myself that I shouldn't tell her. But, I did anyway. I should have let it come naturally from both sides. But, when she was around me, my head went around and around and I often said things that I didn't mean to.

I kept talking, but I didn't tell her everything. I told her about the first time I saw her and thinking about her and the way she behaved and the way she walked and all she'd meant to me and then when we fought and knowing that she'd never be able to look at me the same way and being lonely. When I stopped, she was looking at the floor. We didn't speak for what seemed like a long time, the only sound was the beating of the trees against the hotel roof.

"Why are you telling me this?" she asked when she finally looked at me. I felt ashamed and I just stared at her, dumbfounded. "Are you trying to make me feel better about coming with you? If you are, it's not funny." I looked at her for a moment and shook my head, getting up from my chair. I didn't want to be around her anymore.

"Wait," she said, and I stopped in my tracks. "Look, let's just pretend this never happened. I won't mention it if things will go back to normal." I turned around and she was smiling. It was a genuine kind look. I just stared at her. Sometimes, I really couldn't stand her. There was something so nice about her that you felt like you had to be nice too. You could see that she expected it. I couldn't say what I felt. I just had to stop talking to her, she was really hurting me. So, I walked over to my bed and pulled the blankets down. I laid down and turned the lamp next to my bed off. I closed my mind and tried to erase all thoughts of Emma Nelson off of my mind.

I didn't sleep much that night, because I was shocked at the way things had gone, my telling her so much and how she had made me feel. There were moments where I just wanted to walk out of that hotel room and never look back and leave her there stranded so I didn't have to be reminded anymore. But then I thought of her face and her hair and how it hung low in her eyes when she was tired or frustrated and how she stood and walked and her lovely clear eyes. And I just knew I couldn't do it. I was stuck with Emma Nelson, whether I liked it or not.

Now we're saying aloud

The things we've declared in our silence

The new coats of paint will not reacquaint

Broken hearts to broken homes