26. Emerson
EMERSON
“I want to end our session today by saying I know how hard this must have been for you,” the therapist says as we both stand. “You should be so proud of taking this first step in your healing journey.”
I nod, thanking Dr. Hannah for her time before making my way toward my car. The January air bites at my cheeks as I cross the parking lot, my hands tucked into the pockets of my trench coat.
I still can’t believe I’m starting a brand-new year without my mom.
It’s the first thing I said to Dr. Hannah when she wished me a Happy New Year at the beginning of our session today.
Not thank you.
Not you too.
Just the truth I couldn’t stop myself from saying.
Dr. Hannah is probably around my age, which I immediately liked. She has dark brown hair with purple streaks woven through it, a tattoo peeking out around her ankle, and a small piercing in her nose.
After my breakdown in Jack’s office earlier this week, he carefully brought up the idea of therapy.
Not as a suggestion.
Not as a lecture.
Just as a possibility.
He’s been in therapy for years now.
It’s never been something our family talked about much, but it’s also never been something they were ashamed of.
Rumi and Ava are also huge advocates for therapy—both regularly meeting with theirs on a weekly basis for most of their adult lives—and when Ava’s therapist recommended Dr. Hannah, Ava told Jack she thought I needed someone who wouldn’t push me into a version of healing I wasn’t ready for.
Someone who wouldn’t be a middle-aged man asking me to close my eyes and visualize my grief or some other bullshit that would make me shut down before I ever started.
So Ava gave the information to Jack.
And Jack waited until I was ready.
My phone rings the second I close the driver’s side door to my car, before I even have a chance to start the engine.
“What do you want from Hey Honey’s? Anderson’s going to run over there for us,” Ava asks in greeting.
“Hello to you too, babe,” I retort, smiling as I crank the heat up in my car, pulling out of my parking spot to start heading home.
“Iced Americano it is,” she replies, and I roll my eyes. She knows she doesn’t need to ask because my order is always the same—yet there’s something endearing about the way she does it anyway.
“Rumi is running a little late,” Ava goes on to explain. “Apparently Evee got into some of that new fingerpaint you got her.”
“Of course she did,” I laugh, picturing my niece covered in all the colors of the rainbow with a huge grin on her face.
After Jack practically picked me up off his office floor, he spent the rest of the day with me, making sure I got dinner, drank water, and didn't retreat back into my room the second he looked away.
He didn't push me to talk more than I was ready to, and he didn't pretend like one breakdown meant everything was magically fixed.
He just stayed.
Rumi and Ava came by later that night with at least five different pints of ice cream and a group hug that lasted longer than any of us would normally allow.
We ate our weight in ice cream and watched the first three Twilight movies.
We didn’t have to talk—aside from mouthing the lines for almost the entirety of all three films—and for once, I let people take care of me.
I let myself sink into the feeling of actually being okay—not just pretending.
And it felt really fucking good.
The days have looked pretty similar since then—swapping whose house we spend time at, finishing up the random leftovers from the holidays, and finishing the movie marathon we started.
On New Year’s Eve, we somehow perfectly timed it so midnight struck the moment Aro reveals he has Carlisle’s head in his hand.
“I only have about an hour, though. I’m meeting Jack back at the station to help finish unpacking his office.” And meet Mateo and Crew, but I keep that part to myself for now.
Jack knows they’re coming since I was with him when I got Crew’s phone call, and he said he wouldn’t mind the help since we didn’t get much unpacking done that day.
But he won’t push me on whatever is happening between me and Mateo like Ava and Rumi will. They mean well, just like I did when I gave both of them a hard time during their respective relationships with their now-partners, but I’m just not ready for it.
Especially since the last time I saw Mateo, I almost walked right into his moving car, and then he flipped the fuck out on me.
Rightfully so, I hate to admit.
I should’ve been watching where I was going.
He was so angry—but it didn’t feel like it was at me. More like it was for me.
And that’s confusing, to say the least.
“That should be fine. Georgie will be home by then anyway.”
“Oh, where is she?”
Ava sighs over the phone. “My sister has really been wanting a job, for some reason, even though she’s only fourteen, and I told her she has her whole life to work,” Ava explains, “so she’s been helping one of our neighbors with their cat.
They’re on vacation until tomorrow, so she walks over to make sure the cat has food and water, plays with it a little bit, and then comes home. They’re paying her like $50 a day.”
“A day?”
“Right!”
After each of us says how we need to find that sort of easy money, we say our goodbyes as I exit my therapist’s parking lot, feeling lighter than I have in months.
Maybe today is one of those “good days” Mateo was talking about.
The ones where you aren't completely consumed by the grief.
Today feels manageable. And that’s something I haven’t been able to say in a while.
When I get to Ava’s, Rumi is already there. When she passes me my coffee, I can see the muted colors on her fingertips, as well as the few streaks of paint in Evee’s hair from where she plays with some toys on Ava’s living room floor.
The three of us fall into easy conversation, catching up on Ava’s postpartum journey and all of Georgie’s eighth-grade drama she’s been sharing with Ava.
Rumi fills us in on her newest ideas for the next children’s book she’s planning on publishing once Ava comes back to Hey Honey’s and Rumi’s run as the interim manager is over.
“Your turn, Em,” Rumi says, taking a sip of her chai. She leans forward against the kitchen counter, briefly glancing over at Evee before her eyes land on me.
I take in a breath, exhaling it out as a sigh.
My knee-jerk reaction is to brush over the updates in my life, a small voice in my head saying it would be easier to just re-route the conversation—another voice reminding me that I should feel guilty about sharing what’s going on with me because it means confirming that life does go on, even without my mom.
But I remember something Dr. Hannah said today in our first session: how healing isn’t linear, and actually participating in my own life doesn’t mean that I miss my mom any less.
So I go against all instinct. “Tour starts back up tomorrow, so I’ll be back on the road with Crew until the spring,” I explain, trying to remember all the details of these last two legs of the tour.
“Then we have a week or so off, and then it’s go, go, go for May and June, and then I’m back home for good. ”
I ignore the disappointment in my gut at the thought of this tour coming to an end—especially after these last two months and knowing how easy it is to fall into a routine centered around Crew, too busy with him to remember all of my bullshit.
Shaking the feelings away, I add, “And that’s about all that’s going on with me.”
“Jack mentioned Mateo was bringing Crew by the station today,” Rumi prompts, and I see Ava’s head whip in my direction out of the corner of my eye.
My stupid brother needs to learn to keep his mouth shut.
“You don’t say,” Ava offers, a smirk on her freckled face. She glances at the baby monitor sitting on the counter before settling her chin in her hand.
“Yeah, Crew wanted to come see the station and the ‘real-life firefighters,’” I explain, trying to keep my voice even and my tone nonchalant.
The two of them already think I’m crushing on Mateo, and I can’t afford to give them any more ammunition.
“It’s a good day for it,” Ava says, taking a sip of her iced latte.
I raise a brow. “Why?”
“They’re doing their annual Survive Alive House today. Anderson’s not due back from paternity leave until next month, but he still wanted to go in today to help since it’s always such a fun day for the station.”
“What is it?” I ask.
“It’s an event they do for kids to learn about fire safety,” Rumi chimes in. “The firefighters teach them what to do if there’s a fire. Like how to check a door for heat, how to stay low beneath the smoke, how to call for help, and where to meet once they get outside.”
She smiles as Ava continues, “They have this simulated burning house the kids get to walk through, so they can actually practice everything they learn. They’ve been doing it for years.
It’s usually a field trip schools go on, but I think it was Anderson’s uncle who made it an annual thing for the community when he became the fire chief. ”
“Jack got to the station early this morning to prepare everything for it,” Rumi adds.
I look between my two friends, not even bothering to hide my confusion. “But Jack didn’t say anything about something happening at the station today.”
Rumi shrugs. “Huh. Weird.” The smile tugging at the corner of her mouth gives her away.
I snort. “The fucker is an even bigger instigator than the two of you.”
The three of us laugh at the thought of my brother pretending he couldn't care less when I mentioned wanting to show Crew the station, all while knowing today would be the perfect day to bring him.
“Well, you better get going,” Ava says, standing up from her chair, grabbing our three empty cups before grabbing a rag to wipe down the counter.
“Kicking us out already?” I tease, making sure I push in my chair just the right amount that Ava prefers.
“The quicker you head over there, the quicker she can get updates from Anderson about you and Mateo,” Rumi laughs, doing the same with her chair.
“Don’t act like you won’t be doing the same thing with Jack,” Ava says, throwing the rag in her hand at Rumi.
“There is nothing to tell,” I tell them both, but I don’t even bother trying to hide the smile on my face.
“Right,” Ava says, rolling her eyes, “and ducks don’t quack.”
“Oh, wow. So funny, I forgot to laugh,” I deadpan, all while Rumi laughs at the exchange.
“Funny and gorgeous. That’s what they call me.” She flips her auburn hair over her shoulder dramatically.
It really is crazy how quickly things can change—how fast a moment can go from good to bad and back again.
How easily my mind can drift from missing my mom to reminding myself to stay right here, in this moment.
How something as simple as an hour with my best friends can help me remember there's still joy left for me.
I don't let myself think about how inevitably fleeting it all is—that the happiness will fade and the grief will find me again.
Instead, just like last night and this morning after therapy, I let myself be okay.
Even if it’s just for right now.