Exception (73 page)

The more she looked around the room, the more her heart constricted. Every inch of space held a precious and now painful memory. They all returned to her unbidden, like an avalanche of grief. Her tears and choked sobs were suffocating.

Taylor’s family stared at Emily with red pained eyes that held the same desperation she felt. Deep down she wanted to run to them and grieve with the family she so desperately wanted to be a part of—but, without Taylor’s presence, they were strangers. Shaking her head, she ignored Rick and Tina’s outstretched hands and stumbled backward towards her bedroom door. If she couldn’t be with Taylor, then she needed to be alone.

The short walk leading to her bedroom drained most of her strength. She tried to use the walls as support again, her grief pulling her under and her weak limbs threatening to send her crashing to the floor. It took every ounce of her strength to push one leg forward, and then the other, as she collided with the suffocating memories lining the hallway. One after another, the picture frames shattered to the floor as her arms slammed into them again and again, leaving bruising in their wake and a trail of broken glass behind her.
We didn’t have enough time. We barely had any time.
Her sobs became more and more desperate as she finally arrived at her bedroom.

She sat at the foot of the bed and stared blankly at the tiny ring box in her hand. Her tears fell from her cheeks and covered the one object that proved, in bright red leather, that her life would never be the same. That there was a part of her that would always be missing. Taylor would always be missing.

The door opened and Emily heard steps moving in her direction. She didn’t want anyone there, but she had no strength left to tell them to leave. The mattress shifted on both sides of her as Jody and Zack sat down, their hands touching her arms and back as her sister’s face came into view from between her legs on the floor.

She closed her eyes and steeled her body. She hated the sad look in Charlotte’s eyes and she hated the sad tone to Zack’s voice as he said words she paid no attention to. What did they have to be sad about? They still had their loved ones. They still had their families. She was the one who had just lost everything.

Emily kept flinching from the unwanted, imposed touches. However, no one seemed to notice because they kept talking and touching, and driving her mad. She wanted it to stop.

“Millie, talk to me,” Charlotte begged, tucking a stray lock of her sister’s hair behind her ear. The nickname felt like another punch to the stomach. “Tell me what’s in the box.”

For the first time in twenty-eight years, Emily had blood in her eyes as she looked at her sister. “What the fuck do you think is in here, Charlotte? An elephant? A leprechaun?” she barked sarcastically, shaking the box in the air.

“It’s a fucking ring box, Charlotte!” Emily continued, speaking so loud her throat hurt. “A ring box I found tucked beneath my dead boyfriend’s pillow. In it is probably the ring he would have placed on my finger, if the son of a bitch who fucking stole him from me hadn’t called right after he’d asked me to marry him, not even allowing me the chance to say yes.” Her voice broke in a pained cry at the last word.

Up until that moment she hadn’t shared that part of her night with anyone. It was her secret with Taylor, a secret that shouldn’t have been yelled in angry words and drowned in painful cries. It was a secret that should have been unveiled to their loved ones while she was tucked beneath his arm, the ring sparkling on her finger, and elation glowing on their faces.

Charlotte met her sister’s eyes with love and sadness. She knew that angry Emily was light-years better than quiet-zombie Emily, however, it didn’t make the pain of seeing her so unbearably sad go away and this time, Mjölnir couldn’t help make things right. She hated how powerless she felt. Covering her sister’s hands, entrapping the box inside, she stared back with tear-rimmed eyes. “Oh Millie . . . ”

Zack followed Charlotte’s touch, curling his arms around Emily’s shaking body. He kissed her temple in an attempt to calm her down as Jody ran her fingers down the knotted hair falling over her friend’s back. Her voice was smooth as velvet as she spoke. “Cheesecake, I know you’re devastated and we’re so very sorry. We just want to help you. Please let us help you, babe.”

A new wave of pain and anger washed over Emily. It was like the pet name unleashed the Hulk she had inside. Uttering an incoherent scream, she pushed her elbows out at ninety degrees, effectively pushing her friends away from her. In a swift, angry movement, she stood up and moved to the side of the bed where, after placing the tiny box on the nightstand, she marched angrily back and forth.

“You want to help?” she yelled. “Then stop calling me things that dead people call me. No more Millie or babe. Never. Again. All they do is remind me of all the people I loved who left me, and I hate it.”

Emily could feel a vein on her neck pulsing as she turned in the direction of the three people standing dumbstruck at the end of the bed, looking at her with wide, shocked eyes. “You want to help? Then stop fucking touching me, because I hate it! People only touched me because of Taylor. Never again. No one will ever touch me again.”

Her throat ached, but yelling felt good, so she continued, “And if you want to help, then stop with the fucking puppy faces, because tonight you all get to go home to your happily ever after. The perfect boyfriend . . . the dreamy fiancé . . . the loving husband with the gorgeous baby . . . all things I’ll never get to have. And you know what I’ll get to do? I’ll get to sleep alone in this bed, being reminded of the life I wanted, and mourning the loss of my best friend, the love of my life.”

She looked at the rumpled bed and felt the wetness from yet another wave of tears pouring down her face. She hated those tears. She hated the sight of that rumpled bed and the pictures of the happy couple that mocked her sadness from the walls. She wanted it all out.

“Ahhh . . . ” she yelled angrily. Her body curved over the bed, her hands grabbed fistfuls of the sheets and yanked them from the mattress. Gathering the fabric in her hands, she walked to the door leading to the hallway, opened it, and tossed the sheets there. She returned to the bed for the pillows and tossed them out as well.

Slamming the door closed, she stalked towards the large picture Stan gave her for her birthday. Crying desperately, she removed it from the peg and settled it on the floor with the photograph of her, Taylor and their innocent kisses facing the wall. She simply couldn’t look at it any longer. Moving to the next picture, she did the same.

“If you want to help, then help.” She told the three people staring at her.

In that same instant Charlotte, Zack and Jody started moving, going from picture to picture, removing them from the wall and turning the image someplace away from Emily’s eyes. When they were done with the pictures, they searched the room for any personal objects of Taylor’s. His discarded clothes, shoes, gadgets, books, glasses, cologne, wristwatches and whatever else they could find, were tucked either into drawers, or out the door, with the discarded bedding.

When they were done, Emily looked at her three helpers with eyes that were as empty as the walls. Because they loved her, they wanted to comfort her. However, that same reason kept them from reaching out to her. They simply stood and waited for instructions.

In silence, Emily laid in the middle of the empty mattress. Charlotte, Zack and Jody waited until she was settled in her spot, with her eyes closed and her breathing even, to join her. All three were extremely careful not to touch any part of her.

The silence between them seemed to stretch into eternity and drove Zack mad. With a large breath, he allowed the words that had been tickling his tongue to come out. “I would like to sleep here with you, Cheesecake. I’ll stay on the floor if you’d prefer, but I’d like to be here. I’ll be here for as long as you want.”

Empowered by Zack’s bravery, Charlotte said, “Me too, sissy.”

“Yep . . . I’ll stay as well,” Jody followed.

Emily’s eyes tickled, but no tears came. Despite how touched she was, she made no move to touch them. She’d never touch anyone else again. But their company was welcome, so she forced her hoarse throat to form some words. “Thank you.”

And then the room was silent again.

The brass felt cold on her palm, when she turned it and stepped inside.

A worn out wooden floor whizzed past her. It was hard for Emily to tell if the floor was racing by or if it was her feet, but something kept moving. It was making her dizzy. The air was foggy and dense and stale. It smelled like rain and blood and old things. She hated that smell. She hated that place.

“Lewis,” she yelled, as her feet kept moving.

A childish mischievous laugh echoed through the old walls. The sound seemed to be everywhere, engulfing her. Her head jerked from side to side, trying to find the source, but there was nothing other than the broken windows and the old kettle sitting atop of the stove. “Dammit Lewis, this is not funny!”

A familiar voice called her name. The sound was sweet and loving; it warmed her insides and knocked her breath out, all in one swoop. Her feet, or maybe the floor, moved faster. Her eyes searched with more resolve, but she still couldn’t find him.

The laugh sounded once again, this time from behind her back. She stopped and turned around. Standing right in front of her was an ebony-haired little boy, with eyes that seemed like ice chips. He was beautiful and perfect and she loved him, but his games were quite tiresome and she was very tired.

Kneeling down in front of him, Emily looked deep into the eyes that were so much prettier than hers, and smiled. “Where is he, rascal? I heard him call me.”

The boy simply laughed and pointed a tiny finger straight at her chest. She looked from the place he’d pointed back to his face, her brow raising in a challenging look she only ever used with him. It hid her annoyance well. “I know he’s in here. He’ll always be in here, just like you. But I need to see him, kid, I really do. Please take me to him.”

Lewis’s mischievousness showed in his eyes and on the little smirk on his lips as he brought his shoulders up to meet his ears. “I can’t, Millie,” he said in his high-pitched voice, before turning around and skipping his way out of the kitchen. “He’s not here.”

“No, Lewis . . . ” Emily cried, rising back to her feet. “Help me . . . ” Her feet and the worn out wood were moving again, the dust in the air clinging to the wet lines on her face as she ran after the boy.

When Zack opened his eyes, the early rays of dawn were shining through the window, illuminating the curled form of Emily’s back. He noticed how close his arm was to touching hers and recoiled it close to his own chest so she would have more room.

Between avoiding touching Emily and being elbowed to death by Jody, his sleep hadn’t been worth a damn. However, seeing his best friend curled in a fetal position with a puffy, blotchy face, made him glad he stayed. He knew that if there was ever a time when Emily really needed his help, this was it. He just didn’t know how. Turning his body towards hers, he tried to form a plan but it was no use.

“No Lewis . . . help me . . . ” Her sleepy cries broke through his reverie. She repeated those words a few more times, puzzling Zack, who had never heard the name before. Her voice grew more and more desperate, undoubtedly from the growing angst of her nightmare, and a couple of tears escaped her closed eyes.

The sight crushed his soul. His own eyes prickled with tears, and a desperate need to hold and comfort her spread through every muscle fiber in his body, but he refrained, knowing it would only make things worse. The bed shifted and, in the darkness, he saw the petite outline of Charlotte stalk out of the room, her hands covering her face and her shoulders shaking with distressed sobs.