19. EMERSON
19
EMERSON
Now
I don’t remember the moment I fell in love with Liam.
It happened, though. We both let it happen unintentionally.
And maybe that’s what I needed. I needed love to surprise me. I needed it to find me when I wasn’t looking.
I wasn’t looking for Liam that summer, but we found each other.
He was my best friend. I shared more with him than I did anyone else. Liam made it easy to be me. The closer we became, the deeper I fell.
One day, I woke up, and love was there. It was like I was a baby deer, a fawn trying to find its legs to stand on the ground, ready to face the world for the first time. Everything was new, everything fresh. I was discovering the smell of the grass, the colors of flowers, and the sounds of my surroundings for the first time. That’s what it felt like that day. I was reborn, or whatever was blocking my eyes was removed, and I saw everything differently, anew.
I had never loved anyone before. I had sworn off it after watching how much pain it can cause in its wake, never letting myself get too close to the possibility. I didn’t think I was good enough for it. . . and, ultimately, I wasn’t.
I never told Liam I loved him. I didn’t know how. Feeling it was one thing, saying it was another.
In hindsight, I realize I was waiting for years for him to tell me because I didn’t want to be the one to risk themselves first. He finally did tell me, but hearing it wasn’t everything it’s chopped up to be .
But now he knows. He knows that I loved him.
We stand in the hallway, holding each other’s gaze for minutes.
Liam breaks our eye contact, frustratedly pushing off the door. He keeps releasing deep, audible breaths, the type you hear in a yoga class. His feet pace back and forth in front of me before he spins toward the elevator and walks down the hallway.
He doesn’t say a word to me. Or even bothers looking at me. This is why I didn’t want to say anything.
I hear Liam grumbling over his heavy steps, talking to himself frustratedly.
“Did you want to rip your heart out again? You knew her answers.”
“You shouldn’t have pushed her.”
“I should never have gotten that close to her.”
I wish I could unhear all of it.
He’s upset, and I get it, but nothing in me feels guilty about his behavior—he asked for it. He asked for it, and here it is, a repercussion of love.
As he waits for the elevator, facing the metal doors, Liam turns to his left, back toward me.
The look on his face is piercing. That new baby deer kind of love? His face is the hunter shooting it down. The full reality of tonight settling in and pulling the trigger. His eyes are broken, no longer being able to mask the hurt he felt—then and now. Glimmering behind the hurt is love, trying to push through. I know it is. I can see it. Trying to make the situation better. Trying to demand we say everything that we still aren’t.
“Liam,” I try to call out, but nothing comes out. Nothing. Instead, I feel the words I want to say clawing to get out. They long, desperately wishing that this was an entirely different situation. I wouldn’t let him get on that elevator in any other situation. I’d run to him. Tell him how I can’t stop thinking about him. How missing him drives me crazy. How I’ve dreamed of this moment and pictured it so vividly. Then kiss him, pull him back to my apartment, and never let us go again.
But Brandon. But Natalie.
But everything that happened that summer.
The elevator chimes. Liam’s head drops, and he steps on the elevator without another look or goodbye.
Was this it? Was that my opportunity, and did I blow it? Is this how it all finally ends?
I don’t move. Physically, I can’t.
My back slumps on the door to my apartment. The solidness keeps me from completely falling apart. I keep staring at where Liam was, hoping maybe, just maybe, he’d come back.
I allow myself another moment before pulling out my keys to go inside. Halfway through the front entryway that leads to my apartment’s main living area, my chest tightens. I feel like I can’t breathe.
In and out. Inhale. Exhale. Repeat.
Coaching myself through something so human it’s second nature, but my stupid self has forgotten how to do it.
I can’t get Liam’s face out of my mind. Trapping me only feet away, close enough that I could make out every cord of muscle and his rapidly beating heart. The fact that he asked me if I ever loved him. Or how he said my full name. It’s as if my mind decided to hit rewind and play in slow motion the night, forcing me to relieve it as if I wasn’t an active participant.
I slip my purse off my shoulder and drop it on the counter before I head to the bedroom closet.
Brandon stops me.
“Emme?” he asks.
“This is a pleasant surprise. I didn’t think I was going to see you till Friday. What are you doing here?” I step toward him, rising on my toes to kiss him.
He pulls away from me, shaking his head. His arms crossed in front of his chest .
“Is everything okay?”
“I believe I should be the one asking you that.” He snorts.
“What do you mean?”
“Liam isn’t only an old friend, is he?”
I shake my head no. “I mean, he is—technically. We haven’t seen or spoken to each other in over three years.”
“But before that?”
“But before that, he wasn’t just my friend.”
“Or a summer fling.”
Even though I know it will hurt both of us, I don’t avoid the truth. “Liam was my first love, my everything.”
“It sort of feels like he still is.”
“He isn’t. ” Is that the truth?
Brandon snuffs out a laugh. “How he looked at you last week clearly shows he isn’t over you.”
Is Liam not over me?
“Don’t read into it. It was a surprise encounter,” I say.
“I’m not reading into it, Emme. It’s quite obvious,” Brandon says sternly. “Do you love me?”
“You were,” he nods as I finish speaking, “listening. What did you hear?”
“Enough to know that this,” he points between us. “Is not what you want.”
“That’s not true. I want you; of course, I do. I want the future and life we’ve been planning with you.” I try taking a step toward him, but he retreats backward another.
“Then why haven’t we set a wedding date yet?”
“We need a venue first, and we haven’t found one yet that we both like.”
“Cut the bullshit, Em. We haven’t found one you like. And you know what? I’m starting to think that’s a load of shit, and you don’t want to set a date because I’m not who you see a future with.”
“Brandon,” I sigh out his name .
“Tell me the truth right now, Emme.” His voice is surprisingly calm.
“I do love you—” I play with the engagement ring on my finger. The feeling of it sitting there burns my skin. “—but not that way.”
“I know I’m going to regret asking this. Do you think you ever could?”
I shake my head no. A tear trickles down my cheek as his heart hardens against me.
“What am I to you? What was I when we met?”
He’s going to hate me, but I can’t lie to him. He deserves the truth.
“A harbor from the loneliness I felt. You—there was something about you that filled the void he left. For the first time since Liam, I tried to let myself be in love. I tried to be in love with you.”
“My mom was right about you. She saw through you and warned me. Told me that there was something about you that was cold and guarded. That you were using me, how hesitant you were when I asked you to marry me.”
I chime in as he speaks, “We hadn’t even spoken about the future yet.”
“And the way your interactions were cold or distant at times. She didn’t know how or why, but I refused to believe her. I went to bat for you every time she told me to call it with you because I love you and truly thought you felt the same about me. . .”
I don’t bother to stop the salty tears falling down my face.
“I’ve been nothing but good to you.”
I slightly cringe, ignoring how he is to me around his mom.
“I know, Brandon. If I,” I tap my chest, “Was someone else, I could have loved you like that, easily and deeply.”
Brandon shuts his eyes, scrunching his face in agony. “Do you love him?”
“It’s not that simple. ”
“It is Emme. Either you do or don’t.” Brandon comes to sit next to me on the floor. “Love isn’t complicated. It’s rather simple, actually.”
“How?”
“It just is. Stop guarding yourself, and you’ll see.” His voice is sweet and tender. A one-eighty from the ridgidness he exuded seconds ago.
“I don’t know how to uncomplicate it. I watched it hurt and break people. It broke me before I ever got a chance.”
“In life, some things deserve second chances. While love provides us the avenue for a second chance, you need to give the feeling a second chance. I wish I were that chance, not only for you, but for me, but we aren’t.”
“Did I waste your time?”
“Don’t think that. We’re twenty-eight. There is a lot of life left to live. These memories with you, maybe not this one, I’ll cherish them forever. It may take me a moment to get over you, but you never wasted my time.” Brandon takes my chin between his thumb and forefinger, pulling my face to look at his. “However, it’ll be a waste of your time if you don’t learn from this.”
“Okay,” I reply, my shoulders tense as I take in what he said. I have to learn from this—more than you don’t have to say yes to a proposal just because it’s public. “Do you need to leave right now?”
“It would be for the best.”
“Can you stay? Not for the night, but for a little longer. I’m not ready for this to be over yet.”
“Yeah, I can.” I’m surprised he says yes. His anger is still radiating, but I don’t think he wants this to be over yet, either.
Brandon scoots closer to me and puts his arm around my shoulders, drawing me closer to him. I lean my head on his shoulder as he kisses the top of my head.
“I’m sorry, Brandon. ”
We sit there for an hour, Brandon holding me while I feel way too much. It’s quiet, but I think he cried too.
After our tears have dried out, Brandon picks me up, carrying me to the couch, placing me on it, where I curl up into the fetal position. He covers me with my favorite fuzzy blanket with dogs on it. I lay there, emotionless, eyes glazed over, exhausted from tonight as he leaves.
I climb off the couch, heading to my bedroom closet like I tried to do hours earlier before Brandon stopped me.
A box is on the top shelf, behind a basket of belts and scarves. I stand on my tippy toes and remove the basket. Stretching further to reach the box, I pull it forward and off the shelf.
My memory box.
As a girl, my mom started this, keeping artwork and trinkets from my childhood. At first glance, you would think it was a shrine to me, but now it’s a shrine of my memories.
Letters Natalie and I passed in high school. Photos of us from middle and high school dances—our outfits are tragic; Natalie would die if they ever saw the light of day now. I put aside these memories.
Reaching for what I came here for. Inside this memory box lies my relationship with Liam. Photos of the places we’ve been. Images showing how happy and in love we were. Cards from my birthday and holidays. Little trinkets that he would send me with messages of ‘this made me think of you.’ The first book he annotated.
Three years ago in September, two months after we ended, I collected all of these items and placed them in this box. That night was the last time I allowed myself to shed tears over him. I closed the lid and put the box in my closet. I haven’t touched the box since then—well, until right now.
On both hands and feet , I could count the number of times that I desired to open this box. My willpower was so short some nights that I would distract myself.
Tonight though? I need them.
I need to relive those years. I need the comfort of these memories. Even though pain will inevitably come with reminiscing, I know I’ll be wrapped in a blanket of comfort from the best summers of my life and my favorite version of myself.
I undo the rubber band that is holding a stack of photos together. It snaps me in the palm.
The photo on top is of Liam, Callum, and George. They’re smiling on the beach in Lagos. They had just finished a push-up contest. George was trying to prove he was the strongest, but I didn’t mind the view. Callum ultimately won and didn’t let them forget it for the remainder of the day. I laugh out loud, thinking about how easily they adopted me into their trio. Beatrix and Audrey, too. Joking with me as if I was one of them. In many ways, I was one of them.
Before looking through the photos, I pull out the book and open it up. On the dedication page, in his surprisingly nice handwriting for a male, it says: You are enough, States.