Chapter 36
EMMA
I stand in front of a white house. It has sleek black shutters and it’s bigger than ours. The yard wraps around it, the perfect shade of green, with tall shrubs framing the property line. The driveway stretches in front of me, vast and empty.
It looks like a place my mom would like. She always wanted our house to appear more expensive than it was.
I rock on my heels, trying to build up the courage to step forward.
This is it. Somehow I managed to find the place without my phone. It only took a gas station map and one too many wrong bus rides.
My heart is beating out of my chest and my palms are sweaty.
I should run up to the door and knock. It’s what I traveled all this way for, but I can’t force myself to move.
Taking a deep breath, I turn away from the house.
I need to think about what I’m going to say.
I need to say it perfectly. The problem is I don’t exactly know what I want to tell her.
There’s a part of me that wants to tell her off for leaving.
After three years my anger is on the verge of exploding.
But I know I won’t. I know the second she opens that door all I’m going to want is for her to hug me and tell me she loves me. That’s why I can’t bring myself to walk up the driveway. I’m afraid she’ll push me away again.
I’m scared of being alone.
No matter where I am, I don’t belong. I’m like a puzzle piece that got mixed in with the wrong puzzle and won’t fit no matter how hard I try.
And yet, here I am, still trying to fit into the puzzle. For some reason I believe her telling me she loves me—that she wants me—will fix me.
I walk down the street, trying to clear my head. I focus on my feet, one foot in front of the other.
There’s a car behind me and as I move to the side of the road, I notice the car pulls into my mom’s driveway.
Is that her?
I walk back, staying close to the shrubs to stay out of view.
A man in a gray suit gets out of the driver’s side. He walks around the car and opens the passenger door.
I bite my lip to stop it from wobbling.
There she is.
My mom takes his hand and steps out of the car. Her hair is pinned up and she wears bright red lipstick.
He says something I can’t hear and she laughs.
Then he kisses her.
He kisses my mom.
My throat grows tight. She looks so happy, and it makes me mad. How could she be this happy when my family is so miserable?
I inch closer, ready to run up and yell at her. To demand attention.
“Can I help you?” the man asks the second my foot hits the driveway.
My mom turns and her smile fades. All of the happiness I just saw dissipates from her face when her eyes land on me.
My blood runs cold and I can’t breathe.
Mom pats his shoulder and says, “Look at the poor thing. She must be lost.” Then she looks directly at me. “Isn’t that right?”
I don’t understand what comes over me. I should yell at her for pretending not to know me, but the urge to please her wins.
I nod.
Before anyone has a chance to say anything else, the man’s phone rings.
“I’ll help her,” she says, turning to the man. “Why don’t you head inside? I’ll be there soon.”
He nods, holding the phone to his ear as he walks away.
Once he’s far enough away, Mom steps closer to me. She puts a hand on her hip, scowling at me. “What are you doing here?”
Tears sting in my eyes because she didn’t even take the time to greet me. Nothing’s changed. I wanted her to miss me, but it’s clear my presence only annoys her.
I know I should say something, but I don’t know what to say to make her want me.
She opens her purse, pulling out her wallet. “Is it money? Did you come here for money?”
I shake my head. “I just wanted to see you.”
She sighs, pulling out a wad of bills and holds it out to me. “Go home.”
I don’t want her money. I want my mom.
She pushes the bills into my hand and forces my fingers around them. “I don’t have time for this.”
“I miss you,” I whisper.
She hesitates for a split second. Then she steps back, leaving me with the crumpled bills. “It’s time to grow up.”
I search her face, determined to find some justification for what she’s saying, but she means every word.
She puts her wallet back in her purse. “Don’t come back.”
I’m consumed by sadness, and my tears start falling, hitting the pavement like raindrops.
Is this why Mallory refused to take me? Did she know this would happen?
I want the ground to split open and swallow me whole to stop the pain. It would be easier than finding where I belong, and I don’t want to hurt anymore.
There aren’t any buses home until tomorrow morning, so I find a quiet spot in the bus terminal to sit. My legs are sore from walking so much, and my stomach won’t stop growling. I try to ignore it by resting my head on the wall and closing my eyes.
At this point I’m numb. I’ve replayed what my mom said over and over again in my mind. Was I so awful growing up that I deserve to be treated that way? That’s the only thing that makes sense. She left because of me.
“Emma?”
At first I’m convinced I’m dreaming because his voice is deeper than I remember, but when I open my eyes I see him.
Myles.
He stands across from me, breathing heavy like he’s been running. His face softens when I meet his eyes, and I can’t help but notice the relief written across his face.
Did he come all this way because he was looking for me? He couldn’t have. He should know better than to waste his time on a person like me.
“What are you doing here?” There has to be another explanation because there’s no way he’d ever talk to me again after the way I treated him since Duke.
He steps closer. “I came to find you.”
My brow furrows. “Why?”
“Emma!” Mallory yells, running toward us. She grabs my shoulders, shaking me. “Do you realize how worried I was? You can’t just run away!”
Myles moves off to the side with his hands in his pockets and his head down like he’s trying to give us space.
Mallory lifts my arms as if she’s searching for wounds or tears in my clothes. “I stayed awake all night waiting for you to come home!”
“You did?” I ask as tears spill from my eyes.
“Of course I did.”
My lip trembles. “But don’t you hate me for what I said?”
Mallory shakes her head. “You’re my sister. I can’t hate you.”
That isn’t true. What I said to her before I left was awful. It would make sense if she hated me.
My hands fly through the air, unruly. “Yes, you can! I deserve it!”
Mallory steps back. “How could you think that?”
I tilt my head and blink until I can see her through my tears. “Because it’s true. I’m too hard to love.” My voice cracks.
I notice Myles’s head jerks up and he looks directly at me. I can’t quite read his expression. It’s like it's caught between anger and shock.
“That’s not true,” Mallory says, pulling my attention back to her.
How can she say that? She knows just how true it is. I’ve done nothing but make her life harder.
“I’ve never done anything good in my life.
I’m not like you!” I yell, chest heaving like I’m going to start hyperventilating any second.
“I’m a screwup! I ruin everything I’ve ever touched.
But some silly part of me thought if I could find Mom and beg her to take me back, I’d be worthy of being loved, but she .
. .” My breath catches. “She pretended not to know me. She doesn’t want me.
I’m so awful that no one wants me.” I point to myself. “I don’t even want me.”
“Who cares what she thinks? She left!”
“I care!” My chest is about to explode. “I need her to want me!”
“No, you don’t.” Mallory looks me right in the eyes. “She doesn’t deserve you.”
“That’s not true. I don’t deserve her, and she knows it.”
Mallory’s face falls as she whispers, “Oh, Emma.”
I bite my lip, trying to stop myself from looking even more pathetic than I already do. “And you don’t deserve a sister like me. You’re so perfect, and I want to be like you. If I was like you, I’d be easier to love.”
Mallory shakes her head. “No.”
“Yes, everything would be better if I was like you. Dad wouldn’t be stressed, and maybe Mom would still be here—”
“Stop!” Mallory says, holding her hands to her ears. “I’m not perfect.”
I wrap my arms around myself like it’ll keep me together. “Yes, you are. You always have been. You always know the right thing to do and say without even trying. It’s like you were born with all the right parts and I wasn’t. I’m defective.”
Mallory’s face pales more. “No. You don’t want to be like me.”
“You’re just trying to make me feel better and it’s not working.”
“Do you realize how badly I want to act like you?” she asks. “I wasn’t born perfect. I force myself to be that, and I’m under so much pressure to keep being perfect it makes me sick. I throw up from the stress.”
My heart plummets. “What?”
“I’ve always been jealous of you because you didn't have to be perfect. I’m scared of making mistakes and disappointing everyone. I think about every decision of every day, scrutinizing each detail. Most of the time I can’t breathe because I’m so afraid of doing something wrong.”
I notice the tears in her eyes and I know she means every word. How could I have missed this? Was I so focused on myself and my own pain that I didn’t see hers?
“Why didn’t you tell me?” I ask.
Mallory wipes her cheeks with the back of her sleeve.
“Because you’re right. I’m supposed to be perfect.
It’s what I’ve tried to be my whole life.
” She takes a shaky breath. “You think Mom left because you were too hard to love, but she left me too. I wasn’t perfect enough to make her stay.
I’m afraid that when everyone learns I’m not as perfect as they think, they’ll leave me too. ”
I always thought Mallory was stronger than me, almost unfazed by Mom leaving, but that isn’t true. She just hid it better. She’s as broken and hurt as me.
It kills me because she deserves to be happy.
I jump closer and wrap my arms around her. “That won’t happen.”
“You don’t know that. I’ve done some terrible things, Emma.”
“So have I.”
“Not like me. I’ve done things you’d never do,” she says.
“I doubt that.” I’m a walking disaster, and I find it very hard to believe she could ever do something worse than I have.
“I—” She bites her lip as her eyes dart around the room and sits down next to me. Her hands are clasped tightly in her lap and her gaze falls on them.
Myles steps away, heading for the exit. I wonder if he’s trying to be respectful of whatever Mallory is about to say. Does he know?
“I’m struggling with school,” she whispers.
I hear the words, but they don’t make sense. Mallory has never had a hard time with school. She has the awards and grades to prove it.
“What do you mean?”
She peers up at me, and I don’t see my strong older sister. She’s fragile, and I can tell by the way she’s looking at me she’s afraid to tell me what she’s done.
“You can tell me,” I say.
She wipes her cheek again. “I’m so tired. I cook and I clean, and I don’t have time for all of my homework. I thought I could do everything after Mom left, but I can’t.”
Mallory does everything. She sets out breakfast, takes care of the laundry and house chores, and even makes sure the fridge is always full. We don’t ask her to, but we don’t stop her either.
“Are your grades dropping?” I ask.
She shakes her head, grimacing. “That’s the problem. I’ve been so tired this year, I started copying other people’s homework.”
No, she wouldn’t do that. “What are you talking about?”
She covers her face with her hands. “Dad refinanced the house to send us to Cardale after Mom left. He can barely keep up with the payments, and I didn’t want to disappoint him. Once I started copying homework, I couldn’t stop, and I hate myself for it.”
What she’s been doing is wrong, but I can’t be mad at her. Not when she’s falling apart in front of me. If anything, it makes me feel less lonely because we aren’t as different as I thought. We’re both human. We both make mistakes.
I throw my arms around her, squeezing her tight. “It’s going to be okay.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“Because I’ll help you.”
She hugs me back.
We’ve spent so much time focusing on our differences, I think we overlooked how much we needed each other. We’re both just trying to navigate a world without our mom.