Chapter Fifteen
Knock. Knock.
“Hey, come in, come in!” Emmy greets me with a smile as I enter her exam room.
“Good morning, Emmy. I’m so happy you’re here.” I smile.
“Really? Is it a special occasion, doctor?” She grins.
I have an intense feeling that she’s flirting with me. However, it could just be my imagination.
Or wishful thinking.
“It sure is!” I reply. “Today’s the day your cast finally comes off!”
“Is it really? Wow … I’d completely forgotten,” she jokes and runs a hand through her dark silky hair.
As I step closer to her, her smell envelops me. I’m suddenly blasted with the power of a million memories. “Emmy, you smell like vanilla and cherries. Is my mind playing tricks on me or is that how you used to smell back in high school?”
She laughs and I watch as she caresses her collarbone with the tips of her fingers in a slow, seductive, intoxicating move. “You’re absolutely right! I was shopping online for some new makeup and I happened to come across the Bath and Body Works spray that I used to wear back in high school. I guess I got a little nostalgic. Or—” She stops and looks to the side as if she’s trying to figure out if she should speak more on the topic or not.
“Or … what?” I ask.
“Nothing. Anyway, do you like it?”
“Like it? I love it! It’s my favorite smell in the world!” I confess without thinking twice.
There’s a moment of awkward silence between us.
Neither of us can tell if these confessions are still friendly or if they mean something else now. Something more.
“Umm … so, shall we get on with it, then? Taking the cast off, I mean?” Emmy asks.
“Yes, of course! Go ahead and take a seat on the examination table and I’ll get the tools ready.”
She does as instructed and climbs on the examination table while I pull a tray of tools close to her.
“This is so weird,” she says as I start to work on getting it off.
“Why is that? Did you get used to the cast after all this time?”
“No, that’s not what I meant. It’s just … weird to see you like this.” She waves her good arm at me. “As a doctor. Doing your job. Treating me like a patient. You’re so … grown up.”
I pause for a moment with the scissors in midair and look into her eyes. Her icy blue irises are almost transparent, fixed on my face now. “You’ve visited me at the hospital before. Plus, the ambulance brought you here when you broke your arm…”
“Mhmm. I guess I just meant that you’ve changed a lot. In my mind, I’ve always seen you as the sweet and wonderful boy you used to be when I met you all those years ago. Of course, you’re still sweet and wonderful. But…”
“What?”
“You’re not a boy anymore.”
My heart starts to race and I watch in disbelief as Emmy’s face comes closer and closer to mine. She’s so close now that I can feel her breath on my skin, I can see every single detail of her face, like an exquisite painting.
I slowly set the scissors down as I wait for her next move.
“You’re so handsome, do you know that?” she whispers.
My hands travel down her arms. Her soft skin, coupled with the irresistible smell of vanilla and cherry is driving me wild.
“Do you taste like cherries as well?” I can hear myself asking her, and it’s almost like a disembodied voice. As if I’m living a fantasy, something I’ve been dreaming about since I was a teenager.
“Would you like to find out?” she asks me.
I encircle her waist with my arms and hold her tightly against me, staring at her lips.
Her red lipstick is the most enticing thing I’ve ever seen, and my desire to kiss her right now feels like an ocean engulfing my very soul.
“Emmy … is this really happening, or am I dreaming?” I whisper.
She doesn’t answer.
Instead, she tilts her head and lightly parts her voluptuous lips, as if to welcome me. I lower my head and brush my lips against hers—they’re soft and plump, and taste of cherries and vanilla.
It’s better than I could’ve ever dreamed it to be.
Slowly and deliberately, I press my lips to hers, savoring the sweetness of the moment.
This is happening. It’s actually happening!
My heart starts to race and a million fireworks explode inside my head as we deepen the kiss. I explore the sweetness of her mouth, losing myself in the moment. Our bodies press against each other, igniting a fire that has been smoldering for years.
My fingers travel up her back and into her hair and she lets out a soft moan into my mouth. I caress her face, savoring the delicate touch of her skin under my fingers. I continue to kiss her, to drink from that fountain of honey and ambrosia that I thought would never be mine.
Her lips seem to devour me as our tongues intertwine in a passionate dance, each movement sending shivers down my spine. She holds me tightly with her good arm, clutching onto me as if she’s afraid of losing me.
When we break apart, my head is dizzy, as if I’ve just been on a roller coaster ride.
I continue to caress her hair and smile. “I feel like I’ve fallen into a fantasy,” I tell her.
“This is definitely the most special visit to the doctor’s office I’ve ever had in my entire life,” she jokes.
“Oh, yeah, that … I forgot,” I confess, having completely forgotten that only a minute ago I was starting to take off her cast.
We let go of each other and I get to work once again as she watches me intently.
“Does it hurt?” I ask her.
“What? You taking off the cast? Or you kissing me?”
“Very funny,” I reply.
“It doesn’t hurt,” she says, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.
“Good. I’m almost done.” After a few more cuts, the cast comes clean off. I remove it and put it to the side. “All done. How do you feel? Can you move your arm for me, please?”
She does as I ask and performs a few slow motions with her left arm.
“I feel … weird,” she says, looking into my eyes.
I have a feeling she’s not talking about her arm…
“Emmy … does your arm feel fine?” I ask, my voice laced with concern.
“Yes. It feels great!” She smiles. “We should celebrate!”
I sigh a breath of relief. “Yes! Let’s celebrate. Why don’t we go out to dinner tonight, after I finish my shift? I’ll pick you up, and we’ll go to a restaurant.”
“Deal!”
I am acutely aware of the fact that both of us are avoiding talking about the kiss. However, I already know I’ll be bringing it up tonight over dinner.
She takes her purse off the chair, signs the papers I give her and, right before she leaves, she looks into my eyes. “Umm … so, I’ll see you tonight, then?”
“It’s a date!”
I wait for her in my Lamborghini, the engine still running—her choice, not mine. I wanted to pick her up right at the door, as usual, maybe even go in, have a drink, and laugh, like we normally do. But she wanted me to wait for her outside.
I take a deep breath and look down at the huge bouquet of roses on the passenger’s seat before catching sight of her exiting the apartment building out of the corner of my eye.
She makes her way toward my car, her high heels clicking on the sidewalk. I hop out and get her car door.
“Hey, you look amazing! As always…” I tell her as I open the door for her.
“Thanks!” She picks up the bouquet of roses and looks at it as if she’s never seen flowers before.
“What’s this?”
“Flowers? You know … that stuff that grows in gardens and smells nice?” I reply sarcastically.
“Oh. Are they … for me?” she asks.
“Are you planning on bringing someone else to dinner?” I laugh.
“No.”
“Then, yes. They’re for you, Emmy. I thought you might like them.”
“Thanks.”
I close her door and make my way back to the driver’s seat.
Once I settle in and buckle up, we sit there in silence for a moment, looking at each other, and I try to figure out what to do.
Should I kiss her? Or should I wait for us to talk about all this first?
The awkward atmosphere of the car is difficult to navigate.
It’s more than obvious that neither of us is used to this.
I begin driving to the restaurant, and we spend the next few minutes in a very challenging silence. She clears her throat a few times but doesn’t follow it with actual words. I pretend that I’m paying attention to the traffic but, in reality, my entire focus is on her.
“Here’s the restaurant, then…” I say.
“Yeah…”
She exits my car and leaves the roses inside. Normally, I’d say something, but I feel like now is not the time. Instead, we walk inside and the waiter shows us to our table.
“A bottle of champagne and two glasses, please,” I order.
“Of course. Right away, sir.”
Emmy starts to fidget slightly and plays with the cutlery on the table.
Enough is enough—we need to address whatever monster we created with that kiss.
“Emmy … you know that we need to talk about it, right?”
“Yes, I know. But what I don’t know is … what I should say,” she replies.
“Then let me start. I know exactly what to say because I’ve been wanting to say this to you since we were in middle school.” I reach across the table and take her hand in mine. “Emmy, I’m in love with you. And I always have been. You’re my soulmate.” I swallow before continuing. “Do you remember that conversation we had about our past relationships and how they all failed? How most of our ex-partners were always jealous of our friendship? I know now why that used to happen. Because no one compares to you. No one understands me or knows me better than you. No one can make me laugh like you do. No one completes me like you. There is no one—no one else—that I can see myself spending my life with other than you. You’re the one I want to wake up next to every single day, the one I want to talk to and share my existence with. You’re the person I want to marry and have children with…”
I pause for a moment to catch my breath.
Emmy doesn’t say anything, so I continue.
“The reason why I asked you to make that marriage pact back in high school wasn’t because I was afraid of never finding anyone to marry. It was because I wanted to marry you. I knew way back then, just like I know right now that I want to marry you. Nothing has changed for me. Today, when we kissed, it was like a seal of approval for my heart. So, what I’m asking you is this. Emmy, will you honor the marriage pact? Will you marry me?”
She looks into my face for a moment more.
And then, slowly but surely, she withdraws her hand from mine.
My mind understands what this means but my heart doesn’t want to.
“Evan, I agreed that we need to talk about all this. However, I didn’t mean that we should … Listen, this is … oh, this is so messy,” she says.
“Messy?”
“Yes. Evan, I think what happened between us today was not a good idea.”
“What do you mean? Our kiss wasn’t a good idea?” I ask her.
“Yes.”
“Can I ask why? Will you explain?”
“I’ll try,” she says. “Evan, a lot of things have happened between us lately. I think they were sparked by the fact that I broke my arm, which led to us spending even more time together. But it’s also partly because my friends are moving on with their lives—Jo’s married and Larisa’s about to be … and our friendships are just not what they used to be. Which is fine, but … lately I’ve just … been feeling alone and left out, I suppose.”
“I can understand that.”
“Thank you. Evan, I think that our friendship has changed because of these things. We’ve gotten a lot closer—but not as friends—as … something else. I’ve been thinking a lot about our marriage pact, and whether or not I should honor it.”
“And?” I ask her.
“Well, today, when I came in to have my cast removed, I initiated the kiss because … because I wanted it to happen. I’m not going to lie about that. I thought I wanted to go through with it. But then, everything became so awkward and weird after that kiss. Even tonight, in the car, we couldn’t find a single thing to talk about, Evan. Us! After seventeen years of friendship!” she says.
The waiter approaches the table with a bottle of champagne in an ice bucket and two tall glasses. He pops open the bottle and pours a glass for each of us, after which he disappears, leaving behind two menus. Neither of us touches our glasses. It’s as if we both know that there’s nothing to celebrate anymore.
“Evan, this is exactly what I’ve been talking about all along—what I’ve been so worried about. This is what a relationship would look like between us. And what’s worse is this is what it’d be like if we dated and broke up! Just awkward silence and weird behavior. I don’t want that! I just want us to be the way we used to be. Best friends!”
“Best friends? I just confessed my love for you, Emmy. What am I supposed to do about that? Just magic my feelings away?” I smile sadly.
“Evan, I understand what you’re telling me. But think about it this way, will you feel the same way about me after we date for a few months and then break up?”
“Why are you so certain that we would break up, Emmy? I just don’t get it.”
“Because…” her voice trails off.
She doesn’t answer.
The low light of the restaurant filters through the light amber of the champagne glass in front of me.
How different I thought this evening would be…
“Emmy, have you ever … wanted me? More than just a friend. Have you ever desired me?”
Her eyes dart to the side, and this becomes just one more question that she avoids answering.
“Have you ever loved me?” I whisper. The din of the restaurant crowd almost swallows my question, but I know that she can hear it.
“I do love you, Evan.”
“How do you love me?”
“My heart loves you like it’s never loved anyone else,” she says.
“That doesn’t answer my question…”
“Your question … is a difficult one,” she replies.
“No, it’s not. It’s just scary. I know you, Emmy. And I know that you’re scared. But we can do this together. Remember? What’s mine is yours. Together. Always. How can together be scary?”
“It’s not. Evan, that’s not what I’m afraid of.”
“Then what is it?”
“I’m not afraid of being together. I’m afraid of being alone. I’m afraid that one day you’ll walk out the door and never come back. That we’ll break up and I’ll never, ever see you again. Hear you again. How can I … how can I bear that? How can my heart survive that?” she says, her voice trembling. “As long as you’re my friend and nothing more, you’re here. As long as we’re friends, we are together.”
The power of reality hits me like a thousand bricks dropped on top of me from a great height. She’s choosing friendship over love because friendship has no end. Friendship is safe. Friendship is loyal and secure.
“Would you ever even consider a relationship between us?” I ask her in a final attempt for some clarity.
No answer.
“The marriage pact will expire when you turn thirty. What happens after that? Will we make a new one or … will that be the end?” I ask again.
Her eyes are slowly filling with tears, so I decide not to push anymore.
I know she doesn’t want to answer, and I don’t want to hurt her.
There are so many more things I’d like to know but what would be the point? It’s enough.
I signal the waiter to bring me the check.
Emmy watches me in silence. She’s incapable or unwilling to talk anymore.
Perhaps both.
One final question comes to my mind. “If we had met now—as strangers—would you have dated me? Would you have married me?”