Chapter Seven
Buzz. Buzz.
I reach for my vibrating phone as quickly as I can. I don’t know if Emmy can hear my alarm going off, but I don’t want to wake her up.
I sit up on the couch in her bedroom and look over at her, relieved to see that she’s still sleeping peacefully in her bed.
I watch her face for a few moments, in awe of how beautiful she is, even like this—fast asleep and wearing no makeup. I wish I could kiss her, but I know she doesn’t want me to … even though she was the one who asked me to stay over last night.
Of course, nothing happened.
As usual, we ended up watching a few episodes of her favorite shows and then she fell asleep, exhausted, next to me. I wasn’t expecting anything else since she’s made it perfectly clear that she doesn’t want to change our relationship, or honor our marriage pact.
But I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t hoping that somehow, by me staying the night here, she would finally see what we could be…
I leave a note for her scribbled on one of the pizza boxes from last night, and leave her apartment, locking the door behind me with the spare key she lets me keep.
At the hospital, things are as hectic as ever. After the silence and peace of Emmy’s apartment, the fluorescent-lit hallways almost burn my eyes.
“Good morning, Dr. Davis! We have a pair of children in the emergency room, they look to be about ten or eleven. One of them fell off his bike and hurt his elbow. It doesn’t look like anything serious, but—”
“Alright. Order a set of x-rays so we can make sure nothing’s broken and tell the parents—”
“They didn’t come in with any parents. They’re on their own.”
“Why’s that? Is something wrong?”
“Not that we know of. I think they were just at the park around the corner, got scared when one of them fell, and rushed over here. They didn’t get a chance to call their parents,” she explains.
“Alright. Call their parents, then, and tell them to come to the hospital and collect their children. I’ll be in the emergency room in a moment.”
“Will do. Thank you,” she says before disappearing down the hallway.
I’ve barely been here for five minutes, and I’m already in the thick of it. Which is something that I’m very much accustomed to.
Except that today, Emmy is on my mind more than ever.
The image of her sleeping this morning, her body curled up under the blankets, her porcelain skin … is haunting my imagination.
I can barely focus. But I have to.
“Good morning! How are we doing?” I ask the children as I enter the emergency room. The boy and girl are sitting closely together as if they’re Hansel and Gretel trying to protect each other from the bad witch in the forest.
“Good,” the boy says, even though he has a nasty scrape on his arm.
“My name is Dr. Davis and I’ll be taking care of you, so don’t worry, alright? You did a good thing by coming in today! Your parents should be here shortly, okay?”
The children nod along obediently.
“So, the nurse has pulled up your x-rays and … good news! Your arm is not broken, young man! You just have a scrape, which we’ll be cleaning up right now. And then you can be on your way.”
They look at each other in ecstasy. The girl puts her arm around his shoulders and whispers words of encouragement to him.
“Are you two … brother and sister?” I ask them.
“No. We’re best friends!” she tells me.
“I have a best friend just like you. She recently broke her arm, and I have to take care of her,” I confess.
“Have you been friends long?” the boy asks me.
“As a matter of fact, yes. We’ve been friends since middle school.”
“So … since last century?” the girl asks me.
I don’t know whether to laugh or be offended.
“Come on, now! I’m not that old!” I start laughing. “Okay, then. When your parents arrive, you’re all good to go!”
“Thank you!” they say in unison.
I leave the emergency room after taking one last glance at the two children. They remind me so much of Emmy and myself at that age.
Has it truly been that long?
I guess it’s been over half of my life. I’ve known, and loved, Emmy for over half my life.
A memory creeps up on me, most likely prompted by the interaction between the two children. All those years ago, I was an awkward thirteen-year-old boy who was just starting out at Fenway.
It’s almost as if I can see myself, like a movie playing in front of my eyes. A movie of my own life.
The schoolyard is busy with children of all ages, making an unbelievable amount of noise and creating chaos all around. It’s lunchtime but I forgot my lunch at home, so I just sit on a low wall and look around, even though my stomach is rumbling.
“Come on, pass the ball this way!” I hear a boy yelling and, for a second, I think that he’s talking to me.
But, he’s not. He’s with a group of older boys who are throwing a basketball around, not paying attention to me.
“Who are you supposed to be?”
I turn around, startled.
At first, I can’t see her very well. She’s standing against the sun, so most of her figure is enveloped in a halo created by the light. I squint and she moves a little to the right.
“I don’t know who I’m supposed to be, but my name is Evan Davis. What about you?”
“I’m Emmy Williams. Nice to meet you!” She holds out her hand, and I notice that she has to be a couple of years younger than me. She’s probably around ten or eleven.
The girl called Emmy Williams has long, silky, dark hair that reaches her waist and flows in the wind. Her eyes are so blue that they’re almost transparent. I stare for a little bit before realizing that it might be … weird. She’s a good-looking girl, but younger than me.
“Hi, Emmy. Do you go here? At Fenway?” I ask her clumsily.
“No. I just come here for the great food.” She rolls her eyes. “Of course, I go here. Why else would I be at this school, in the middle of the day? Are you new?”
“Yeah … it’s my first day. I got transferred here from George Washington. My parents moved here. So…”
“So, they made you change schools, huh?” Her icy blue eyes almost penetrate me. It’s like she can read my mind, but not in an intrusive way.
She seems to care about me—like she’s genuinely interested and might even feel sorry about the changes in my life.
“Something like that … To tell you the truth, I was so nervous this morning that I forgot my lunch at home,” I confess.
“Ah, that’s not a problem!”
She reaches inside her backpack and pulls out her own lunch—a bottle of water and a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. She takes it out of the wrapping, tears it in half—expertly, as if she’s done it before—and hands me half her sandwich.
“There you go, Evan.” She smiles. “You can have half. What’s mine is yours!”
“Umm … thanks so much. I—I wasn’t expecting this…”
Instead of an answer, she waves her dainty hand through the air and blows out a raspberry. For a moment, I can see her tongue poking out in a very childish and funny way.
“We’ll have to share the bottle of water, though. I only have one,” she adds.
“That’s alright, there’s a drinking fountain over there,” I tell her, pointing to the other side of the schoolyard. “Thanks, though.”
“Oh, no, no! Don’t drink from there!” she says. “The older boys throw stuff in there. Dirty socks, chewing gum … you’re not one of them, are you?”
“No, not really. I’ve never thrown a dirty sock into a drinking fountain,” I tell her in all seriousness; although I find the topic to be quite funny.
Her blue eyes pierce me. “So, you’re one of the good ones, huh?”
“I guess so?” I reply, not knowing what she means.
“Those are hard to find,” she sighs like a much older and wiser woman.
I’m fascinated with this girl who came out of nowhere to come and sit with me, share her lunch, and have this … weird conversation.
Whatever I thought my first day of school would be, it wasn’t this.
We finish our shared lunch and continue to talk. She fills me in on everything there is to know about the school, the teachers, and some of the students. According to her, I should stay away from the bathrooms on the second floor and I should definitely take Miss Clark’s history class.
Before we go, Emmy pulls out a chapstick from her backpack and starts applying it with slow and confident moves. “I’m thinking about starting to wear red lipstick. What do you think?”
“Red lipstick? How old are you? Ten?”
She turns to me and shoots me an extremely dirty look. “I’m eleven. And how old are you, a hundred? Are you my dad?”
“No, I didn’t … I’m sorry. I think red lipstick would look great on you, Emmy.”
“Anyway … my parents won’t let me wear red lipstick. All I got was this Burt’s Bees cherry one. It has a little color to it, but I have to really work it in to make it show. See?”
She continues to apply it, layer after layer. I can smell the strong aroma of cherries enveloping us—enveloping the entire world, it seems.
“What do you think?” she asks me.
“Huh? Umm … yeah. I think it looks … great.”
Behind us, the bell rings loudly and absurdly, filling the air with a piercing sound. The students start to move toward the entrance of the school, leaving behind the autumn sun and their last seconds of freedom.
“Let’s go in, then. I have Algebra,” she tells me.
“I have Chemistry. See you after, during the break?”
“Sure!”
And just like that, our friendship started.
We never actually spoke about it, or decided that, from then on, we were going to be friends. It just … happened. After that moment, we continued talking and simply never stopped. It was as if Emmy had been in my life forever, and I in hers—since the beginning of time. Soon enough, I couldn’t remember a time when she wasn’t my friend. And I couldn’t imagine a life where I wasn’t able to talk to her, see her face, and hear her voice.
I still can’t.
It would just … not be life.
The sound of an ambulance travels throughout the hospital, mimicking the sound of the bell from my childhood. I wake up from my reverie, the smell of cherry Burt’s Bees still burned into my brain.
I’ll never forget that moment.
“Nurse, are there any more patients that require my attention this morning?” I ask a nurse who’s walking down the hallway.
“Not right now. But there are some charts that need to be filled out. You also have a series of prescriptions to look over. I left them on your desk, in your office.”
“That’s fantastic. Thank you.”
“My pleasure, Dr. Davis.”
We part ways, and I head for my office. Just like she mentioned, the charts and prescriptions are on my desk. I sit down, and thumb through them, but the memory of the day I met Emmy is still with me.
I open my laptop and start to search for something.
Burt’s Bees cherry chapstick.
I immediately get tons of results showing me the little lip balm that Emmy was using that day. Looking at the images, I can almost smell it through the screen, transporting me back in time. On the website, there’s the option to order these small beauty sticks.
“Let’s see … How many do I want? In fact, how many would Emmy like because I’m buying these for her…”
Without hesitation, I add a hundred cherry chapsticks to the basket and ask for them to be gift-wrapped. Satisfied, I close the laptop and think about the expression on Emmy’s face when she receives them.
Just then, my phone vibrates, and I swipe it open.
Emmy: Why didn’t you wake me up when you left?
Emmy: I wanted to see you a little before you left for the hospital…
Emmy’s awake. The thought that the first thing she does after she wakes up is text me, warms my heart. It’s funny how such small things can make you so happy.
Me: You were sleeping so peacefully.I didn’t want to disturb you. How are you feeling? All good with the arm?
I can see the dots moving on the screen as she writes back her response.
Emmy: Yeah … It’s a little itchy but I can handle it.
Emmy: I slept so well last night. Much better than I’ve slept in ages. I have no idea why…
I read her messages and smile. I can guess as to why she slept so well, but it seems like she’s not ready to realize it yet.
Me: Yeah, I know what you mean. I slept amazingly well, too. We should definitely do it again!
I wait for her answer and it comes in the shape of a few laughing emojis. She’s taking my joke well but also not committing to anything at all.
Me: Hey, I have a surprise for you!
Emmy: No way! What is it??
She reacts just as I knew she would. Emmy loves surprises.
Me: I can’t tell you. Otherwise, it wouldn’t be a surprise.
Emmy: Come on!!! Just a hint! Pleeeeease….
Me: You’ll see when it arrives, I promise.
When a nurse calls me to the emergency room again, I have to end the conversation, even though I don’t want to.
But I realize that I can’t stop smiling.
How she has this effect on me, I’ll never know.