While Francine was laying in her bed and Emmalee curled up in hers, Clark entered the scene coming in from the garage. The moment he had walked in the door he knew something was off.  The house was unbelievably dark and unfriendly.  Upstairs he could hear the boys were still up.  Not whispering and talking themselves to sleep in the room they shared.  Clark could hear them yelling and laughing with play.  Clark looked down at his watch 9:26, set his briefcase down on the table, and then removed his suit jacket and hung it on the back of the chair.  The smell of cigar smoke clung to it, thick and bloody.  Clark would have taken his shirt off to, to get away from the smell but he would have to go up to his room and right now Clark knew that wasn’t the choice to make.  He missed his old firm where the only smell coming from his jackets was a slight mixture of paper, coffee, and the occasional steak dinner with a client.  Not that he didn’t mind the new company.  The attorney’s he would work with seemed like great gentleman but he knew that to them he would always be the odd man out, it had already begun seeping out that he was Francine’s husband, which meant of course he was their bosses son in law.  So that night after an already long day, when the guys invited him for an after work drink and congratulatory cigar Clark said yes to the drink but no thanks to cigar and walked with them down the street to the corner bar. 

During the walk while the other men were discussing company matters Clark thought about how much he wanted to go home.  He would have to put in at least an hour with these guys to be polite, then with the 30 min drive home, that would put him way past the time the kids went to bed and he would only be able to go check on them, tuck their blankets back around them,  kiss their heads.  Clark had wanted to see how Emily’s first day had gone.  He wanted to have been able to get down on the floor and play Lego’s with the boys.  That was the first thing they unpacked, pieces were scattered all over their room so now he’d have to be careful when he entered.  And he wanted to hug Francine.  He missed her on days like this.  When things were big and exciting.  He couldn’t wait to hold her and whisper all the conversations, the description of his office, the lunch meeting with the board upstairs, the drink and cigar boys club.  Which is why he accepted the offer even when he would have rather gone home.  Most woman would have hated that her husband chose to go out instead of coming home.  But with Francine it would mean that Clark was important and Clark wanted to feel that way, not to them but to her. 

Now he wasn’t for sure what to do.  Francine was upset and  probably laying down.  Hopefully asleep.  But probably not.  First he would go check on Emily and make sure she was settled for the night.  Then go take care of the boys, take them to the bathroom, and tuck them in.  Last he would go into their room and see Francine.  Clark would make his next actions based on the situation he found and that as far as his mind decided to go.

Emily’s door was closed and no light came from underneath so she must be asleep.  Clark opened and entered and saw her small form underneath the covers.  He walked over to her side and looking down saw that Ellie was clutched in her hands.  Clark bent over and kissed her smooth cheek.  Sometimes looking at his sleeping children he wish he could lock that image away in his head forever.  Not the image of them just sleeping, but that exact moment, that night, those pj’s, that flutter of the eyelashes, that breath.  When he held Emily for the first time Clark promised himself he would never ever forget what she looked like in that moment, but he did because then the next day when he was holding her and she lay asleep in his arms he would make the same promise again thinking he was adding it to the promise yesterday, not knowing that each time was just rewriting over the last. Over the years Clark promised himself never to forget many many times with each child.  It wasn’t his fault that he did but it did make him sad that sometimes moments and memories don’t last forever. 

Clark smoothed Emily’s blanket around her shoulder - which if he had seen underneath that Emily was still wearing her school uniform it would have broken the spell and instead of him in awe of his beautiful child, he would have been heart broken and angry, at Francine, at himself, that Emily was not being taken care of- but he didn’t so he backed out of the room, closed the door, and went next to the boys. 

The boys were not twins although most people thought they were.  While Emily took after Clark with her dark hair and dark features.  The boys took after Francine.  Blonde hair and the biggest blue eyes the world had ever seen.  They did have names which were Adam and Scott.  Adam was the older, Scott a year younger.  But most of their life they were referred simply as “the boys”

“Boys! Time to come and eat!”

“Boooys?  Its time to get ready for school!”

“Dad! The boys destroyed my barbie!” 

They were seldom apart.  When they were babies Adam 2, Scott 1, they slept in the same crib.  They had 2 cribs but when Adam figured out how to climb out of his he would toddle his way over to Scott’s and climb in to sleep every night.  One night there was big thud and then crying and when Clark went running to their room Adam was on the floor and so Clark scooped him up and tried to shush and rock him but Adam kept screaming and crying, then Scott woke up screaming and crying, and Clark didn’t know what to do.  Adam’s chubby arms were reaching out to Scott and Scott’s were reaching out to Adam  so Clark walked over, placed Adam into Scott’s crib and they both stopped crying and laid down.  Heads opposite of each other, their pajammed feet kicking at each others feet, they settled down and went to sleep.  After that Adam was never put in his own crib again.

“Boys?”  Clark poked his head into their room.

Their blonde heads lifted at the same time “Dad!”  They rushed to him and hugged his legs. 

“Hi boys!  I’ve sure missed you!” He got down on his knees and hugged both of them.  Clark must look like super dad right now.  He isn’t.  There has been many times he has yelled at them, gotten short, ignored the kids while he watched a game or read the paper.  But all and all Clark was a good dad.  And really that’s all his kids needed.  Not perfect.  Just good. 

“Let’s hurry and get you boys in bed.”  From their drawers he pulled out two sets of PJ’s, He-Man for Adam and He-Man for Scott.  They both were obsessed with He-Man. 

“We’re hungry.”  Adam said for both of them. 

“Did you eat dinner?”  Adam shook his head no.  Scott looked over at Adam and shook his head no too.  Clark was annoyed with Francine.  “Okay then.  Adam you get your pj’s on and then help Scott.  Both of you go to the bathroom then hop into bed.  I’ll bring you something up.  Okay?”  They both nodded ok. 

Downstairs, Clark looked through the cupboards.  They were full of dishes since Francine had unpacked the kitchen yesterday but none were full of food since she hadn’t gone grocery shopping.  Which upset Clark even more because he had called her at home right before his lunch meeting and said “Hi hon what are you doing?”  And Francine answered “Just heading out to go shopping for things we need.”  Clark assumed food was one of those things.  He did find a loaf of bread and grabbed two slices.  There was a little jar of grape jelly in the fridge that Emily had begged to be able to keep, that they had gotten with their room service breakfast at the hotel they had stayed at when the closing of the house had been delayed two days while funds were being cleared, Clark grabbed the jar and smeared jelly on each slice and folded them in two. 

He tucked the boys in and gave them their jelly sandwiches, he left the door open and the hall light on and said good night.  At the same time, the boys paused between bites, and said good night back. 

Clark checked his watch, 9:43.  He wanted to go to bed but he had a brief to look over and a memo to finish up.  And he knew that if he took it into bed with him all he would do was fight with Francine and then he’d have to go downstairs and be up until 2 am trying to finish things up and then sleep on the couch.  All of the sudden Clark felt very tired.  Of everything and everyone.  Of knowing that his future consisted of smelling like cigars and coming home to an unfriendly house.  He was tired of Francine and how nothing was ever good enough.  He did not feel 34 year old, unless those 34 years had in the past minute somehow doubled or tripled because his feet shuffled, and his back began to hunch over, as he made his way downstairs. 

Emmalee frowned and tried to smile but tears welled up in her eyes, so she frowned again so they wouldn’t spill over.  She could hear her mother stamp down the hall to her own room, shut the door and locked it, where she would probably collapse into bed and let Clark figure out what to do for dinner.  Emmalee decided to do the same. 

Crawling into bed she curled up as tiny as she could, burrowed her head under her pillow, in her hands she clutched a small blue stuffed elephant with pink floppy ears and a yellow tail.  It was the only stuffed animal Emily was ever able to keep and only because her father had given it to her.  That day Emily’s mom had taken the boys with her to do something.  Emily wasn’t for sure what.  And right as they left, with Emily staring out the front window of their old house a pang of jealousy in her tummy, watching their two little faces smashed up against the glass sticking their tongues out at her, in their ears their fingers wriggling back and forth, she could read their lips when they started singing “Nah nah nah na nah!”  Her mom’s face steady and blank,  Jackie O sunglasses covering her eyes, staring straight ahead as she backed the car out on the street, and then drove away. 

“Hey Baby Girl!” Emily’s dad bounced down on the couch next to her.  “Why you lookin so down?”  He turned around so he was on his knees just like Emily and stared out the window catching a glimpse of bumper as it took a right off of their street.  “Oh.” 

“Hey! Lets get out of here.  Lets go have an adventure!  Just the two of us!  Come on!”  His voice burst into enthusiasm because if it didn’t burst you would be able to hear the hurt in his voice too and it would echo the exact hurt seen in Emily’s face. 

Emily looked over at her dad and smiled.  Clark smiled back.  He put his arm around her shoulder, squeezed it just so, put his other around the front of her, clasped his hands and lifted Emily right off the couch and pretended to stagger from the weight - “What have you been eating at school? Rocks?”  Emily giggled -  “I need to start working out… or maybe eat some spinach…”  down the hall they went until he delivered Emily  safely to her bedroom.  “Make sure you wear some tennies.”  He ruffled her sleepy hair “Okay I’m going to get changed too and then I’ll try to figure out how to do your hair.”

Clark figured out Emily’s tangles with a spray bottle and a brush.  When they walked out the door, hand in hand, her hair was still damp and the part crooked, she was wearing purple shorts, the ones with a monkey face on each back pocket, and a black t shirt with neon paint splatters.  Clark said “You look beautiful Emily Ann Brown.”  Emily tried to feel that way but the real feeling she felt was rebellion since her mother never let her where these clothes, let alone together, since they didn’t match.  But she smiled and said “Thanks Dad”

Clark said he didn’t know where they were going.  That was the adventure of it.  So Emily said “Right” and Clark would turn right.  Emily would say left and Clark would turn left.  They drove and drove.  About an hour out of town until the highway they were on slowed down with bumper to bumper traffic.  “Uh oh.  This doesn’t look good.  Sorry Emily.” 

But it was good because they kept following that line of cars until they came upon a clearing right off the highway that had been turned into some sort of carnival.  It was a small carnival but it had all the right ingredients to make up a perfect adventure.  There was a Ferris wheel, a mini roller coaster, a dunk booth, and a petting zoo with a curtained off area where if you paid 25 cents you could see a 5 legged goat.  There was a alley full of fried things, Corn dogs, fries, Navajo tacos, and funnel cakes.  Emily and Clark devoured a funnel cake even though Emily hadn’t want to eat it at first because it looked so pretty with all the powdered sugar on top.  Like it was a fairy cake covered in snow. 

The two of them spent hours walking around, playing skee ball, trying to squirt water in a clowns mouth until the balloon growing out of his head burst, and finally after paying $15 to a man that smelled of beer and sweat, Clark was finally able to make a basket that won Emily a stuffed animal.  She could either choose a Bart Simpson doll or a blue elephant with pink ears.  She chose the elephant, hugged it right to her heart, and named her Ellie. 

Then it was time to go but as they left, they passed the balloon man.  Floating in the dusky night was a bouquet of all the colors in the world.  Emily looked up in awe that the man wasn’t floating away and then looked down at his feet to see if they were off the ground even a little. 

“Would you like a balloon little lady?”

Emily looked up at her dad and he nodded his head yes she could get one.

While Emily was looking at all the colors there was an exchange of money, the kind of exchange that adults make in situations like this, at carnivals, county fairs, the kind of exchange that happens when a child is telling Santa what he wants at the mall,  the Santa repeating back joyfully loud enough for the parent to hear what their child just whispered… so that children feel that life is magical.  That if you saw a balloon man almost floating off the ground you could walk up to him and he’d give you a balloon and thank you for choosing one because it helped him from flying away. 

“White please.”

“What?  No Pink?”  

“No. No Pink.” The balloon man smiled and said “Okay you got it”  and tugged on the line that belonged to the white balloon and handed it to her.  “Have a nice night”

On the ride home Emily fell asleep.  She woke up in her bed, wearing purple shorts, her black t shirt with neon splatters, clutching Ellie in her hands.  Emily felt uncomfortable inside but wasn’t for sure why.  Then as she got up to use the bathroom she heard something.  Her mom and dad were fighting.  Emily couldn’t hear what they were saying but her mom’s voice was shrill at times and her dad’s was low and even.  She could hear cupboards slam every now and then so they must be in the kitchen.  The bathroom was down the hall and if her mom was standing any where near the fridge she’d see her.  It was to risky so Emily would just have to wait. 

Even though Emily couldn’t hear the fight its the reason why they moved cross country 6 months later so that Clark could make something of himself.  So he could make Francine happy. So she wouldn’t yell when she found out that he “wasted” $15 on an ugly stuffed blue elephant that “probably cost less then 50 cents to make and made by a Chinese kid who probably was paid a penny!!!” 

Emmalee returned through the hedge, gathered up her things on the back porch, and slipped through the back door and up to her room using the kitchen stairwell.  Once inside her room, the walls still bare, but her curtains were hung and so the room had a light pink glow. Then once the pictures were hung, the comforter brought out of its storage bag, the pillows fluffed just so, her room would be consumed with the pink and Emmalee would hate coming up here.  But for now it was just the curtains and Emmalee could deal with that. 

She unzipped her backpack and brought out her binder full of homework and placed it on her desk.  It was a beautiful desk and the only thing that Emmalee really loved in her room.  It was white with flowers and leaves detailed on each drawer front and the same trellis going down each pedestal leg.  Her hand searched inside the front pouch and brought out pencil after pencil.  Emmalee threw the pieces that were sharpened already on one end and broken on the other into the wastebasket beside the desk.  Then she layed the other pieces with a broken end and metal cap end all out.  Red. Orange. Yellow. Green. Blue. The purple and black were still whole.  Opening her drawer she pulled out the pencil sharpener, stood over the waste basket, and started with the blue. 

When Emmalee got to yellow, she froze.  Outside her door coming up the stairs was the footsteps of her mother and they were coming for Emmalee.  Her door crashed open banging into the wall, her mothers face ugly and furrowed. 

“What the hell is this? EMLEE!  DO YOU THINK WE ARE MADE OF MONEY?”  In her hands she held up the broken piece of pencil that had belonged to the color orange and waved it in the air as she yelled.  The more her mother yelled the more she waved the pencil until she looked like she was conducting an orchestra, the music being a dramatic piece the way her face was overcome with intensity.  Emmalee found this image funny but knew not to laugh.  That would be death.  “I JUST BOUGHT YOU THESE PENCILS.  IS THIS HOW YOU TREAT YOUR THINGS!!! IS IT?  DO YOU THINK WE ARE MADE OF MONEY? ANSWER ME YOU LITTLE ________”

Now I will not fill in the blank because there are some things a little girl should never be called and although Emmalee was called much worse over her lifetime by drunk men, angry strangers who she shared the road with, even a frenemey from high school - this was the first time Emmalee had been called a swear word and coming from her mom’s lips it made quite an impact. 

“No mom I don’t think we are made of money.”  Emmalee said it soft, tried to keep the sadness out of her voice, but couldn’t help it since the name she had just been called was still ringing in her ears and making its way down to her heart. 

“Exactly.  We are not.  We never will be.  Remember that next time you think its loads of fun to break things.”  Stepping forward she grabbed Emmalee’s chin, perfectly manicured nails against Emmalee’s smooth baby like skin, and then tightened her grip until the nails were almost piercing in.  Her blue eyes narrowed as she stared into Emmalee’s green ones. Emmalee turned her eyes fearful because she knew that was her mother’s were after, although she wasn’t afraid, she was hurt but not afraid. 

Emmalee’s mom released her grip, stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.  If there had been pictures on the wall they would have rattled around, maybe one or two fallen off.  But there wasn’t although one colored penciled did roll off the desk into the plush carpet.  Green. 

The funny thing is that Emmalee’s dad did make a lot of money.  He wasn’t made of it.  That’s for sure.  But providing for his family a very comfortable life was not a problem.  Emmalee’s mom grew up in a house that was made of money.  That was the problem. 

Emmalee’s mom growing up lived in a big beautiful house in Conneticut, although her father pretty much lived in Manhattan.  For her first birthday her parents took her to Paris.  For her second they gave her a race horse named after her.  Francine Faustine.  Francine was their only girl.  Their only child.  She had big bouncy golden curls and the most beautiful blue eyes the world had ever seen.  She bathed with her mother every morning in a white claw foot tub filled with scented water and foamy bubbles.  Francine’s mother would sing to her and Francine would sing back.  Memoriesof her early childhood consisted of flower arranging, riding a Shetland pony, and getting her passport stamped.  Every day was a gift.  Until one day without warning it became a given.  Then for Francine’s mom it became a burden.  And with Francine’s dad living it up in the big city - not a care in the world except for working, drinking and philandering - Francine became the source of the burden and was shipped off to boarding school so that Francine’s mom could have not a care in the world too.  Except for flower arranging, honing culinary skills, and although she hid it pretty well (she thought) drinking. 

At boarding school Francine was lonely.  Bored. And very homesick.  She missed her dogs, her two yellow canaries, the kittens that lived in the barn, her horses, her family.  Francine would sneak downstairs late at night to call her dad in the city.  He never answered though.  Which was odd since every night when Francine asked where her father was the answer was always “Your father is working late”  One night Francine called home, her mother answered, but it was like she spoke in tongues (like the first night Francine arrived at boarding school and was on her way to brush her teeth when she noticed a big group of girls outside the bathroom door watching something.  Francine peered through the shoulders to see a girl with fiery red hair that exploded from her head writhing on the ground making the most insane noises that sounded a little like Chinese. Francine whispered “What is she doing?”  “She’s speaking with the spirits to ask for the answers for tomorrow’s midterm”  “Is that really going to work?” Eyebrows lifted. “She’s from New Orleans, she knows what she’s doing.“) and so that night when Francine heard nonsense coming from the other end she knew her mother was drunk, quietly she hung the receiver up and tiptoed back upstairs and tucked herself back into bed. 

Feeling all that loneliness it was no wonder that when Clark Brown came along with the promise of a future law degree and his very own car that could take them far away from the grounds of the boarding school, Francine let him take her away.  From the boarding school, from the loneliness, from her life.  Then they got married.  Her daddy had not approved and not because of Clark but because that’s what daddy’s with lots of money do.  They don’t approve.  Which made Francine want this new life more and not because it would be with Clark but because well, that’s what daughters with daddy issues do. 

First it was an adventure living in 400 sq feet, cooking pasta on a hot plate, eating pasta while laying in bed, then one time Francine burnt the pasta and there was a fight, then there was a make up.  The next time Francine made pasta she made sure she didn’t burn it because she wanted to be a good wife, but then the smell of the noodles hit her nose and she raced across 100 of that 400 sq foot apartment to the bathroom and threw up over and over, all while the pasta boiled and burned. 

The university doctor said congratulations and in 9 months they would welcome a boy or a girl.  Clark wanted a boy.  Francine wanted to lay in tub.  But not the tub in their burnt pasta smelling apartment.  A big white claw foot tub over looking the Atlantic ocean, filled with scented water and foamy bubbles. 

9 months went by.  A girl was born.  Clark was not disappointed but Francine was.  Not because it was a girl but because it was a baby.  She forced herself to hold the baby but she couldn’t bring herself to name the baby.  All the baby names she had saved up - Beline, Marielle, Simone - were not fit now. 

“What should we name her?”  Clark kissed the tip of babies nose.

“I don’t care.” 

So Clark named his baby girl the most beautiful name he could think of.

Emily Ann.

Emily Ann Brown. 

As Emmalee swirled the rest of her Vanilla Chai Tea around her ex boyfriends ridiculous mug, she thought of him.  Trey that is.  Although as she was thinking of him, going back through the 4 months that they had been a couple,  all the dinners, the going outs, the staying ins, even the time when they visited his mother in Sacramento, during all of that Emmalee was thinking of him.  Jack that is. 

It didn’t bother Emmalee to come to this realization because Jack had been a part of her life since she was 8 years old.   And a part of her daily thoughts for all of her high school years.  Actually during high school you could say  they were almost hourly.  Maybe even at times on the minute.  It was just a fact that Jack Owens had always had been and always would be a part of her life.  She wasn’t even for sure when that fact started as a truth. Did it start from the time Jack was born, from when Emily was born, was it then that their two lives started running parallel to each other getting closer and closer until the day they would meet?   The day her mom had looked up from polishing her tea set, annoyed with Emily for coming home from school, and told her to go get her homework done.  Emily had run out into the backyard, stood on the back porch, tore her back pack off, then holding the two straps swung it over her head and smashed it into the cement over and over.  Trying to get the rage out.  Hot tears bathed her cheeks.  She stopped the smashing but the rage was still there so Emily unzipped the front pocket, grabbed the bundle of rainbow pencils held together with a green rubber band, and at first because in her 8 year old brain consumed with all this anger (that her mom didn’t love her, that her dad didn’t care either or if he did why did he pack them up and take them from the only home they had known…and now on the day that it finally felt like it would be okay couldn’t even share that with anyone) - she felt she had the strength to snap in two the whole bundle.  But after one try she realized she didn’t, so calmly she undid the green rubber band, sat on her bottom, and one by one snapped each colored pencil. 

First the red - since it was her favorite color.

Then the orange - another favorite.

Blue.  Green.  Yellow. 

Snap. Snap. Snap. 

She picked up the purple and heard a scream.  It was filled with pain and terror.  Emily put her hand to her mouth to see if it had come from there.  But it hadn’t.  There it was again.  To her left, through the hedge, next door. 

Emily stopped the snapping and picked up all the fragments of color and stuffed them back in the front pocket.  The crying and screaming continued.  Which is why Emily stopped snapping.  Its funny how in humanity when you know someone is in trouble or in pain, you want to stop any actions that might contribute to that realm.  Emily stared at the hedge not knowing what to do.  The cries would be quiet for a moment and then start up again.  The girl in her wanted her to do whatever she could to stop the hurt.  The girl in her also made her want to go straight to her room, get underneath her covers and cover her ears with her pillow. 

Emily’s body was still pumped up a little with adrenaline so at the next yelp she stood up, fists at side, and marched her way to the hedge.  Peering through the foliage she could see a boy a little older than herself, maybe 10 or 11 straddling another boy, a little younger than herself maybe 6 or 7.  Older boy, the boy on top, every now and then would deliver a slap upside younger boys head.  The younger would cry and try to wriggle free.  His face was pale and even though she couldn’t see his eyes Emily could tell they were filled with humiliation.  The energy coming from the younger boy broke her heart.  But it wasn’t enough to move Emily into action.  The energy from the older boy scared her enough to stay put. 

“You know you’ll never be able to get away don’t you? You Freak.” 

Older boy’s hand grabbed the other boy’s nose and yanked it around.  Emily could hear cartilage grinding and the cries of real pain made her brain see red.

“STOP!”

“STOP!”

Emily barreled through hedge onto the scene.  She ran a little towards them.  The older boys head snapped up to see who had interrupted him, his dark hair in his eyes, his dark eyes peering at her through his locks in extreme irritation.  Suddenly he jumped off the other boy, grabbed him by his shirt until he was standing up too and shoved him with one last thump in the middle of his back towards the house.

“If you tell Mom I will kill you.”  He whispered threateningly.

The young boy didn’t look back and ran as fast as he could towards the back door. 

Emily’s heart was beating and she wasn’t for sure what she was going to do once the heathen turned around to attack her.  She was a pretty fast runner but the boy could probably take her.  If he threw her on the ground she could go in fetal position or maybe kick at him.  But one thing for sure is that calling for her mom wouldn’t work. 

As Emily stood there not knowing what to do, her mind started committing  things to memory because this was the first time she met Jack and her mind knew it would be coming back here to this place often.  Not just the moment as it was right now and the moments that would happen in the next little bit.  No it commited everything from the time she woke up that morning,  when her teacher introduced her, the bus ride home, the look on Emily’s mom’s face, the broken rainbow around her feet, running through the hedge… all of those moments needed to be recorded because it made the next thing that happened jell all of them together to be the answer of how Emily would live her life. 

The boy turned towards her.  All the anger was out of his face.  It was replaced with apology and another emotion Emily couldn’t place.  But it was the emotion of getting caught and trying to cover it up by being fake. 

He shrugged his shoulders.  ”He destroyed my science project.”  Sighed and shook his head.

“You’re Emmalee right?”  Emily nodded.

“I’m Jack.  I saw you on the bus.  You were sitting with a boy two seats in front of me.”

“Yeah my little brother.”

“Man! Little brothers get into everything don’t they?”

“Yeah.”  Emmalee relaxed and smiled. 

“Glad you guys moved in. There are no other kids on this street I swear.”

“Yeah I’m glad we did too.”

“Well I’ve got to go fix whats left of my project. Nice meeting you Emmalee.”

“Nice meeting you too Jack.”

(day 4. go back and catch up if you need to : )

After Emmalee’s morning jog to the ocean where she swam in her little piece of heaven she returned home, took a quick shower, got dressed in her work uniform (which consisted of leggings, sports bra, tank top, and flip flops) and then made her morning tea. 

While waiting for the kettle to come to a boil, Emmalee searched for her favorite tea cup, which she wasn’t able to find so she settled on a mug that an ex had left at her house.  It was white and said in large black letters

“YOU TALKING TO ME?”

Emmalee hated that mug and that boyfriend.  Every morning when she’d come home from her swim he’d still be asleep in bed, his skin smelling oily and Emmalee would fantasize about taking the edge of the sheet and ripping it out from him so fast like that stunt trick where a waiter rips a white table cloth that has a full course meal set on the top, except unlike the waiter she didn’t want what was on top to stay perfectly where it was.  She wanted to rip that sheet so hard that oily greasy boyfriend would be thrown out the door.   But he weighed probably 190lbs or at least that’s how much he said he could bench or maybe its how much he said he consumed in protein shakes a day.  Anyway it doesn’t matter because Emmalee knew she couldn’t rip the sheet out from under him. So she instead would say,

“Trey?” 

His actual name was James Randolph III.  III meaning “the third”.  When he was a boy his family called him Jamie.  When he was in high school and everyone started teasing him for having a girls name he started trying to work out and when that didn’t stop the teasing he transferred to another school and told everyone to call him Trey. 

Trey would groan.  Burp.  And one time he farted.  Really loud.  It was so disgusting and Emmalee had to go to the bathroom to dry heave.  Then when she came out of the bathroom, he was still laying there, flopped on her bed, his skin wetting her once crisp sheets with its greasy stench and now Emmalee could swear she saw green fume waftys coming from his behind.  Emmalee was like “Oh hell no! I can not deal with this today.”  So she skipped her morning tea and went straight to work. 

Trey didn’t make an attempt to call that day and she tried not to imagine him in her home.  Because all she could see was him sitting on her white couch, leaning forward his eyes glued to the TV watching some strong man competition, his elbow on the inside of one knee as he pretended to do arm curls.  But that night when Emmalee walked into the door Trey was showered and in khaki shorts, a black polo, his bare feet against her beautiful faded floor, his face erupting in a easy going smile.  Emmalee’s heart would start beating fast and she couldn’t help but wrapping her arms around him, forgiving him, and then getting on her tip toes to kiss his chin. 

Then the next morning she find the previous mornings situation, and this is the part where the mug comes in. So she’d wake him up by saying,

“Trey?” 

Emmalee would say it a couple of times usually until at least one eye would open enough to look at her.  Then she’d pad out to her kitchen and start her tea and his coffee. 

Trey would come out stretching and yawning, scratching his armpits, scratching the hair on his chest, and then of course his nether regions.  Then he’d smack his mouth a couple of times, pull out a chair, and collapse his head onto the table. 

Emmalee would pour his coffee.  Add nothing to it because he liked it black. 

(One time she added a little whip cream and sugar and he loved it so he asked why it tasted different and she told him the ingredients.  His eyes filled with horror.  DIDN’T SHE KNOW THAT AS AN ATHLETE HE NEEDED TO EAT CLEAN?  Which was dumb because she knew Trey bought a king size snicker every time he went to the gas station.  Emmalee thought the real reason was because in Trey’s mind real men drank black coffee and women added all the sissy stuff to their coffee because they couldn’t handle it.) 

Then Emmalee would set his coffee in front of his folded arms and pat his shoulder.  There’s no way she’d bend to kiss the top of his head. 

Trey would lift up and clutch his coffee and drink.  Emmalee who had already been up for 2 hrs and had her fill of peace and silence would say

“Good Morning!”

Trey’s eyes would lift to meet hers all irritated and angry like.  Then his finger would point to the words at the mug as his response.

“YOU TALKING TO ME?”

One morning.  The last morning they were together.  Emmalee had served him his coffee but she placed the mug with the quote facing Trey. 

“Good Morning!”

Trey’s finger stabbed in the air over and over at the coffee cup.  But it was blank and white.  Emmalee laughed.  With the first peel Trey probably felt funny and good about himself.  But then the laughter got stronger and louder.  It was just so funny.  She wasn’t trying to make him feel bad.  But she couldn’t stop laughing so she ran into her bedroom and when she came out he was gone. 

(so you know the drill… this is day 3 of my story… if you haven’t read previous parts of story go to the right side and start with “The story of Emmalee” and then work your way backwards… Also i’ve gotten several emails wondering about the comments.  I turned comments off so I didn’t feel pressure… you know like good pressure ”More More” or bad pressure ”YOU SUCK!”.  I give myself enough as is :)

Everything with Jack had always been perfect.  From the first time Emmalee had met him, to their first kiss, and even their ending was text book. 

It was like their images had been printed out on heavy white card stock and some god like figure with large hands holding large scissors carefully cut out first Jack then Emmalee along the dashed lines that outlined their bodies. 

Snip

Snip

Like they were paper dolls who had no flaws and were moved around and scripted to say all the right things when they were together by the person who belonged to those large hands. 

And not just their bodies, that looked a little androgynous with the demure white underwear that covered thier private parts, were cut out.  But also their clothes.  Perfect matching clothes that were tabbed at the shoulders and tabbed at the waists so they could hug their bodies if folded just so.  Because every night that one summer when Emmalee would crawl out her window to meet Jack to go swimming in his pool, do you think she was wearing a ‘nSync t shirt with Justin Timblerlakes face (when he still had that curly fro…ew..) on the front with gray sweat pants that had a hole in the knee?  No.  Because this was a perfect love and Emmalee knew that.  So over her suit she’d throw on a white cotton night gown that had an eyelet hem and white ribbon ties at each shoulder that she’d tie in a bow as she watched herself in her dresser mirror, a smile on her lips, thinking of him.  Also with relief because everyone was asleep  and she could ease up and be Emmalee in her own home instead of Emily.  It felt good when she could do this instead of only being Emmalee at school or just around Jack. 

Then she’d throw her perfect tan leg over the window sill and  would take her time crawling out because Jack might be watching and she didn’t want to look clumsy.  Emmalee wasn’t clumsy, she was fluid, and strong.  Tip toe across the grass, the sky a navy blue, the lightning bugs saying hello to the stars and the stars  saying hello to the planes that bleeped across its wide wide sky.  Emmalee would push her hands through the hedge and Jack’s hands would be there pulling her through and then they’d be in each others arms. 

She’d kiss his lips.  And say his name.

“Jack.” 

Now you will need to know that Jack was his real name.  It wasn’t John.  It wasn’t Jackson.  It was Jack.  Jack Albright Owens.  Albright to honor his Mothers side.  Owens because of his fathers.  Jack was because his twin sister was Jill.  A little silly if you ask me. For a mother to name her twin babies Jack and Jill but Mrs. Owens was 22 when she gave birth to her first babies. And was rather a silly girl when Mr. Owens married her because she was his secretary and back then when you got your secretary pregnant you married her and let her name your babies whatever she wanted.  Maybe the nursery rhyme names helped Mrs. Owens reclaim some of the innocence she lost.  Whatever the reason that is how Jack got his name. 

Jack would kiss Emmalee’s lips.  But wouldn’t say her name when he kissed them. 

You’ll find out why later.

Jack would just call her

“Em”

Then Emmalee would untie the bows of her night gown, adjust the seat of her swimsuit to make sure it covered her bum and dive into the pool.  Jack would cannon ball in with a whoop! and then stroke by stroke they’d swim from end to end smiling at each other and from time to time stop to tread water so they could kiss in the deep end. 

One night, during this magical summer of theirs, Emmalee looked over at Jack.  They were in the shallow end, sitting on the steps, both their elbows jacked behind them resting on the concrete edge, Emmalee felt  like whispering something to Jack.  She wasn’t for sure what, but words were on the tip of her tongue, so her mouth opened to say them but the words didn’t come out so Emmalee closed her mouth.  But they were still there so her mouth opened once again even wider still.  Jack looked over at Emmalee with her mouth hanging open like she was a dumbstruck idiot and said…

“You look weird.”

Emily closed her mouth and Emmalee crinkled / twinkled  her eyes and smiled pretty. 

“Sorry. Charlie horse in my toe or something.”

Jack laughed and grabbed her feet under the water and pulled them into his lap and tickled her toes that weren’t that ticklish but she giggled anyway.  And everything was perfect again. 

(for summer time since I’m pretty bored with blogging about my life I thought I’d share with you a story that I’ve been working on in my head for quite some time.  This way I get to write about 1000 words a day… its just for fun and I hope you like it.  Oh and also this is day 2… read yesterdays post first if you haven’t already)

So that morning while Emmalee was going through her dreams (the morning her life would forever change) she paused between dwelling on the last dream she had of Jack (which had been about a month ago)  or the first dream that she had of him 10 years before. 

Although the first dream was better than the last because at least in the first she could see his face and hold his hand, the last she could hear his voice, which was one of his best qualities, and so Emmalee  went with that one. 

She was sitting in her car, on a tree lined street, parked outside his childhood home which was all red brick with black shutters and a big white porch.  It was right next door to her childhood home which was cedar shingles with dark green shutters and the same big white porch.  Which was right next door to another house with shutters and a porch.  They lived on a street where all the kids ran around every night playing Sardines and kick the can until 10 or so, the mom’s drinking sweet tea on all those porches, the dad’s in their garages drinking beer and eyeing all the mom’s drinking sweet tea. 

Sitting there staring at his front door, Emmalee knew that she had drove all night to be there, its funny how in dreams in makes perfect sense to do things like that.  She picked up her cell phone and dialed his number.  It rang once.  Twice. 

“Hello?”

“Hi!  It’s me!”

“Hi Emmalee.”

“Hi Jack” 

“Are we going to do this again?  Where we just say Hi over and over?”  She could hear him smile.

“No I don’t think so….”

“Well its your dream Emmalee so I guess I have no choice in the matter.”

Then Emmalee and Jack traded stories about where their life had taken them in the 2 years since they had seen or spoken with each other.  Emmalee told Jack how she had finally bought that little beach bungalow she had been renting since she had moved to California.  How every morning when she woke and swung her legs over to stand up on the hardwood her toes would immediately start dancing their way to the little white bathroom  where she would brush her teeth, throw on her white one piece, braid her hair and then run as fast as she could to the ocean. 

“The hardwood is so perfect.  Its all warped and sun bleached and faded.  No matter how much I sweep it little pieces of sand come up every time.  It almost makes me sad to sweep up all that sand and dump it back outside.”

“Why would it make you sad? It’s just sand”

“But Jack I mean it has history.  Maybe it came in on the feet of a baby and his mom was holding him in her arms and the dad was helping brushing and blowing off sand and kissing his chubby little feet.  Then the baby giggled and then the mom and dad felt happy ya know… so then they kissed and thanked God that they had decided to get away from it all because in that moment they knew their family was worth it.  See that kind of history.  How am I suppose to sweep it up and just throw it out?”

Jack didn’t answer but his laugh came through and Emmalee was happy that she knew could share any thought she had with him. 

Then Jack told Emmalee how he had just graduated from NYU with his masters in Anthropology.  (Which was true in real life.  A month ago when Emmalee called home her mom was in a hurry… and that she had to go… and so sorry she would love to catch up later… but just that… well she was on her way to the Owens house to celebrate Jack’s graduation…so bye call her back later? yeah sure Mom, Bye.)

In her dream Emmalee wanted to say “Jack come outside” or “I’m here” or “I have come home.”  Anything so that she could see him … but instead she said.

“I LOVE YOU!”  All happy and cheery and blurty.  Like how you pick up a baby and say it really exagerated and then lift up their little shirt and blow a zerbert right on their belly.  Thats how she said it in her dream.  And Emmalee in real life wanted to smack her self in the forehead.  But she couldn’t cause she was asleep.

“Wha?”  It took dream Jack aback…

“Uh sorry… I was looking at my phone looking through pictures and I saw a picture of my new niece. and so I said I LOVE YOU!  because you know… well I do… love her…. very much” 

 Phew.  Real Emmalee felt relieved and relaxed back into sleep that dream Emmalee had figured out how to save it.

“But you’re on the phone with me.  So how does that work?”

Oh crap Emmalee.

“Oh uh its my old phone.  I’m on my new phone.  I’m trying to send pictures from my old phone to my new phone.”

“Okay.  Well it looks like your busy.  Talk to you later Emmalee.  Bye.”

Then the dream ended and Emmalee woke up disappointed.  She tried to return to her dream.  Put herself back in the car outside his house.  But instead the only dream she could get into was at a county fair in some podunk town, the worse part that she couldn’t even get herself to be at least walking around eating fried things… no in her dream she was standing at a helium tank making balloon after balloon for kids who had smeared ketchup all over their faces wearing clothes that didn’t match. 

It was a horrible night of sleep and she woke up at 6 am but layed there and logged her dreams away even the bad ones.  Although the dream about Jack wasn’t the best, Emmalee took what she could get and realized that up until the end it felt like it always had with him.  Perfect.  Even just talking on the phone.

. . .

Most every morning when Emmalee awoke she would take as long as it took to go through her dreams  before she decided to return to reality.  She would go through them one at a time like she was standing in a record store where there were rows and rows of vintage vinyl  and one by one her fingers would fly  until she hit the right one.  Instinctively she would grab hold without even looking at its cover, take the record out, let the needle find its groove… then the sound would make all the emotions float her away. 

This morning like most most mornings Emmalee did her routine once more.  But this morning unlike most mornings was the morning her life would forever change.  And like most fantastic stories as such, Emmalee had no idea. 

One thing you must know about Emmalee right from the get go is that her name is really Emily.  Emily Brown.  Quite Boring.  Emily Ann Brown.  Very Very Boring.  But one day while Emily was in the 3rd grade and her family had just moved cross country so that her father could once again make something of himself… well anyway the first day of her new school her teacher introduced Emily like this

“Children I would like for you to meet Emmalee!”  and all the children said in a tone that resonated somewhere from a black and white TV show that was shot in the 50’s all responded in a perfect chorus

“Hello Emmalee!”

And it was the first time Emily had felt beautiful.  And not at all boring.

Even on the ride home on the bus that smelled of urine and throw up and brown bananas she still felt beautiful.   Emily kept saying over and over in her mind her name the way the teacher had.  Then she would say it the way her parents and all the others in her life said it. 

“Ehmaaaleeee”

“M LEE”

“Ehmaaaleeee”

“M LEE”

So on and so on until the word Emily sounded like the ugliest word in the world and she no longer felt that it was a word that was fit for her personal vocabulary.  Like how some people feel about the word “moist”  You just cringed didn’t you? 

So by the time Emily stepped off the bus she had begun her transformation into Emmalee, her black shoes felt the difference and tapped down the aisle so sweetly while all the boys heads turned to take in one last look of the new girl who hours earlier had become the creature all their hearts desired because she had already been introduced as such.

Her father did make something of himself and for the next 10 years Emily tried to make something of herself while Emmalee didn’t have to try at all. 

The Emmalee at school was beautiful and had long dark hair that curled at the ends, it smelled like raspberry tea and all the boys loved to sit behind her in class and daydream about fluffing up her hair and burrowing their nose inside to sleep away Algebra or English or Honors Biology. 

Emmalee at school had a million friends.  She could make everyone laugh.  She was very quick on her toes and could say the most thought provoking sentence in class, that even the teacher had to stop and reel with the emotions that deep thoughts invoke. yet the next words might be something so sweet that a friend would tear up and feel at ease with the hardships that life threw their teenage way… getting their period at their boyfriends house, getting a zit smack dab on the end of their nose on Prom night. 

Emily at home had her hair in a ponytail.  She watched TV as soon as she entered her front door.  Ate huge bowls of captain crunch until the roof of her mouth felt like it suffered from a disease that you could only suffer from if you had been dumb enough to drink water in a 3rd world country.  Emily rolled her eyes a whole bunch and wasted hours playing solitaire on her mom’s phone that was so old that it was the only option it could perform.  Emily at home could only cook toast.  Emily at home told her brothers that they were fart faces and that the reason their parents didn’t get along was because they had been born. 

Emmalee hated Emily.  Emily did not hate Emmalee.  Emily hated her family.  Well not really hated but just heavily disliked like most teenage girls who heavily disliked their parents for the simplest reason that of course does not seem that simple… they just didn’t understand her. 

 And she had known they didn’t understand since the day she had come home in the 3rd grade and said…

“Hi Mom”  Then twirled with happiness from the most perfect first day she had ever had.

and her mom said

“M Lee go do your homework.”

….

until tomorrow :)

When I was 16 I moved in with my best friend Sharla and her family and lived with them until I graduated high school.  For about 3 months Sharla and I shared her room and both slept curled up in her little twin bed.  Every morning at 6 am her alarm would go off and she would never wake up to turn it off and I would have to crawl over her to reach it.  EVERY MORNING! 

Then summer came and we didn’t have to get up at the crack of dawn… the one who woke up first would push play on the CD player and then lay back down and listen to this song as we took our time waking up…

do you have a song that reminds you of summer?