Chapter 32
Running Late
Emily
Three years ago...
“Where’s Richard?” I asked, looking left and right.
“Working late, lovely.” Mama passed me a pan of roasted potatoes and a plate of over-easy eggs. I walked them over to the table, which Lucas had just finished setting.
“It smells amazing,” he said, nabbing an extra-crispy potato from the pan.
“Stop it!” I protested. He always stole the crunchiest pieces before we started eating.
He smirked and dived into the pan again, licking his fingers after. I scrunched my nose at him, and he ruffled his nasty fingers in my hair.
“Lucas! I just curled my hair and now you’re making it all greasy!”
“Take a shower then.” He laughed.
“Lucas, stop bothering your sister,” Mama said, and we all sat down to eat. Mama only filled half her plate. She always ate less than we did, saying that cooking made her less hungry. But I thought it had something to do with the time when we were poor: she got used to eating less so there was more for us.
Lucas started talking about this girl he really likes. “Does she go to the same school?” Mama asked, and he said, “Something like that.”
Uh-huh. He came home late last night, waking me up with a greasy sandwich and wanting to watch How I Met Your Mother at four in the morning. He had met the girl at a bar.
“Right, we’ll talk about that later.” Mama wagged a warning finger at him. “What about you, lovely? How was your day?”
She always did that: encourage me to talk. I used to like it, but now it was getting on my nerves—like, if I wanted to discuss how much it sucked with the people at school, I would.
“It was fine,” I said, covering my mouth with my sleeve to hide the stupid grin that always crept out when I lied.
Mama smiled and squeezed my hand. Lucas kept chatting away as we ate. My phone vibrated and I pulled it out expectantly. Despite my begging Papa to stay, he had sold the house and moved to Berlin. We had talked a few times on the phone since, but less and less over the months. I sighed when I saw it wasn’t his name on the screen.
“No phones at the dinner table,” Mama scolded.
I rolled my eyes, but before I could put it away, Lucas grabbed it. “Let’s see who you’re texting!”
I lunged for the phone but he ran for it. “Hey, give it back!” I shouted, rushing after him into the kitchen.
“Guys, not during dinner! Please!” Mama called, but we ignored her.
“Who’s Michael, hm?” Lucas cackled, holding up the phone so I couldn’t reach it.
“No one!” I squealed, jumping up, but I wasn’t tall enough.
“Ooh, he sent a heart emoji!” he said, looking up at the screen. “Wait, is that an eggplant emoji? What the heck—”
I had climbed onto the kitchen counter without his notice and jumped onto his back, laughing in delight. “Give me my phone!”
At that moment the door opened, and Lucas startled so hard I accidentally knocked down a vase of droopy old flowers Richard had gotten my mother, probably a month ago for her birthday.
“What’s going on here?” Richard yelled, and our laughter faded.
Mama rushed into the kitchen. “Richard, hi! The kids are just messing around.” She helped him out of his coat.
Richard eyed us and the mess we’d made. “Right. What did I tell you about fooling around?”
“Sorry,” I mumbled. The vase hadn’t even broken. But Lucas only let out a snort. “We were just having fun.”
Mama quickly took out another plate from the cabinet. “Let them be kids, Richard. Are you hungry? I can fix you up a plate.”
“They aren’t kids anymore. They’re fourteen and eighteen, Susanne.” He strode past us to the table, and Mama gestured at us to join him.
We returned to dinner, quieter now. It was always like that. When he wasn’t there, we chatted and laughed... But when he was, I scoured my brain for things to talk about that wouldn’t bug him.
It all started a few months after we moved in together. The first time we broke something by accident, he lost it, telling us to be more careful with his things in his house. No matter what we did, nothing was good enough in his eyes. Mama kept saying he was stressed from work now that he had to provide for an entire family. I didn’t get it; Mama was working all the time herself. We barely spent any time together except for at dinner.
“You got your history grade back?” Richard asked me. He had helped me study for the test, but no matter how much I tried, I just wasn’t good at history. English and German were my strengths.
“I got a B-,” I said, dodging eye contact.
“Oh, how great, lovely!” Mama said, but Richard made a face and muttered under his breath, “B-, don’t encourage her for that.”
My brother let his silverware clatter onto the plate. “If you’ll excuse me, I’m not hungry anymore.” He stomped out.
“We’re not finished yet!” Richard called.
Mama placed her palm on his hand. “Let him go, honey. It’s fine.”
My mother kept defending us, but it didn’t make it any better.
Now...
I lay sprawled on Jon’s bed, surrounded by my Culinary notes. Finals were coming up soon, and despite my school in Germany making me repeat the year, I decided I wanted to ace them for myself—and for the slight possibility that I’d be finishing high school here after all. I shook my head, staring down at all my notes.
Jon glanced up from the couch, where he was immersed in his own stack of papers. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s so unfair that German schools are so strict. I’ve learned so much this year, and they’re acting like I didn’t do shit.”
Jon raised his eyebrows. “If you’re using curse words, you must be really mad.”
“I am!” I threw some papers in the air. “You’re all done soon, and I’m stuck in school for another two years. I wish I could graduate high school here.”
“You’ve got to finish high school though,” he said. “You can come back for college.”
I flopped onto the bed in frustration. I’d been doing more and more hinting, but no matter how much I tried, Jon didn’t get the point. “Ugh, I know. I just wish there was a way I could stay here now already.”
“We’ll figure it out. Let’s go to Germany this summer, and then we’ll decide what to do next.” His calm eyes reassured me somewhat, but my impatience grew, despite knowing that I couldn’t pressure him into making this huge commitment.
His phone vibrated next to me. “I can get it for you,” I offered, reaching over. But Jon was by the bed in a flash.
“No, it’s fine.” He grabbed the phone and read the message up close.
“Who is it?”
“Um.” He stared at the phone for another second. “Lauren. She wants me to play cab driver again. I did it once and now she thinks I’m at her service.” He shoved his phone in his pocket.
“Go ahead. I can keep studying here on my own,” I suggested, but he shook his head vehemently.
“Nah, it’s fine. She’ll find someone else.”
I squinted at him. It was unlike him to reject anything Lauren asked of him. “You sure? I really don’t mind.”
“Yep, I’m sure.” He sat down on the bed next to me, letting his thumb run over my chin. “This is my time with you. I won’t let it get shortened by anyone.”
“You’re such a softie after all,” I teased, leaning in for a quick peck.
He shrugged. Then his face clouded. “You know, there’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you, but I’ve been dreading it.”
I sat up straight. “What is it?”
Oh my gosh, could this be the moment I’d been waiting for? Did all my hinting work after all—was he thinking about it too?
He dropped onto the bed next to me. “My mother wants me to come over for dinner with her and Mr. Perfect, and I told her only if I could bring you.”
Maybe not.
“Jon, you didn’t...” I covered my face. Going to dinner at his mother’s was the last thing I wanted to add to my to-do list.
“She agreed,” he admitted, giving me an apologetic look.
“No... Don’t you remember the last time I saw him? In my jail cell!”
“I know, but Little German, I can’t do this without you.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. But I couldn’t say no to Jon, no matter how much I tried. Plus, I had nothing to prove to Humphrey. He didn’t like me? Too bad. I was still on Jon’s side. “Ugh, fine. I’ll go.”
“Great, I’ll drive you home so you can get ready, and then I’ll pick you up at 6:30.”
I jumped up from the bed. “Tonight?!”
Jon grinned. “I thought it would be better if you didn’t have time to break your head over it.”
I grabbed a pillow and threw it at him. “I freaking hate you.”
“Love me,” he corrected with a smile. “I think you mean, love me.”
By 6:42pm, my hair was neatly arranged in a strict bun and I was in my fanciest dress—a black mini with lace on the arms. It looked more suited for a funeral, but I was determined to make up for any bad impressions I had made. Peeking behind the curtains, there was still no car waiting for me in the driveway.
Me: Where are you? I don’t want to make them wait
Arschloch: Something came up. Can you meet me there?
I sighed, considering my options. Gena and Henry were snuggled up on the couch, engrossed in a movie, and I didn’t want to interrupt them. As for Paul, I had no idea where he was. We hadn’t spoken much since our fight by the lake. We were both angry with one another, just for different reasons. But I didn’t have time to overthink that right now.
“The bus it is,” I told myself. At least Jon had explained how the bus system worked around here.
Waiting around for the bus, it turned a bit chilly, and I regretted not bringing a jacket. When a bus finally pulled up I got on it, unsure if it was the right one. Jon better have a good reason for running late. I didn’t even want to go anyway, and here I was all dressed up in a near-empty bus with an old lady looking at me like I was a pitiful little thing.
Despite my terrible sense of direction, I managed to reach Jon’s mother’s house by a quarter past seven. She opened the door with a big smile. “Emily, how nice to see you,” she said, scanning me up and down, and I performed an awkward curtsy. “Oh, you look wonderful.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Denson.”
“I go by Mrs. Duckles now.”
“Oh, right, I’m so sorry, Mrs. Duckles.” I couldn’t believe I forgot she took on Humphrey’s last name.
“It’s all right. Now, where’s Jon?” She peered over my shoulder as if expecting him to magically appear.
“He’s not here?” I asked, regretting not texting him before ringing the doorbell.
Her smile dimmed. I knew exactly what was going on in her head because, despite my endless trust in Jon, I knew that addiction clouded his.
The chair beside me was still empty. The grandeur of the dining room only mocked my discomfort. I wasn’t used to crystal glasses and three different types of forks. I hadn’t dared take a sip from my glass yet. What if I accidentally dropped it?
“Mom,” said Lauren to my left, maybe we should—”
“No, we’ll wait. If Emily’s here, he’ll be here too.” Mrs. Duckles folded her hands across from me, her gaze fixed on an ornate wooden clock. It was eight now. I sank lower in my seat and pulled out my phone.
Me: Jon, where are you? I’m at your mom’s place and I’m running out of small talk!
Humphrey cleared his throat behind his napkin. “Emily.”
I shoved my phone back into my little bag. He hadn’t said anything to me except for hello since my arrival. “Yes?”
“It’s been a few months since we’ve seen each other. How is everything going for you?”
It wasn’t his words but the judgmental look he gave me. I knew exactly what he was getting at: I wasn’t good enough. The resemblance to Richard made my toes curl.
“I’ve been very good, thanks for asking.”
“Excellent. Are you planning to stay—”
“Jon!” Lauren squealed, jumping up from her chair and running into Jon’s arms, who stood in the doorframe. My chest relaxed. I loved seeing how happy she was whenever she laid eyes on her big brother.
But then I noticed his eyes—they looked exhausted, haunted, almost. His leather jacket hung off his shoulders. He hadn’t even dressed nicely.
“Sorry for being late,” he mumbled to his mother and Humphrey as he sat down in the chair next to me. “Really sorry,” he whispered in my ear before placing a kiss on my cheek. I looked away quickly as his smoky breath hit my skin.
“Why were you running late?” his mother asked.
“Tim lost the car keys. We found them under the couch cushion, but it took a while.” Jon shrugged. He had his poker face on, the one even I struggled to read.
“Sounds like Tim,” Humphrey said. Jon shot Humphrey his first glare of the night as he grabbed my hand under the table and squeezed it tightly.
“I’m hungry! Don’t we have salmon waiting for us?” Lauren said, trying to lighten the mood. Heck, it had only been a few seconds with Jon present and it was already worse than I could’ve imagined.
Most of the dinner happened in utter silence. I broke it a few times, talking about school, Jon taking Culinary, how we cut up whole chickens in preparation for our final grade. “What about the vegetarians?” his mother asked, and I stopped trying to make any further conversation.
“Lauren, why don’t you go upstairs,” Humphrey suggested the second everyone except me was finished. Of course I was the last one again.
“Ugh, fine.” Lauren rolled her eyes and came over to give Jon a hug from behind. Jon let go of my hand for the first time that night, and I used the opportunity to cut a piece of salmon. “Jemily?” Lauren mused. “Or Emijo? Either way, I ship it.” She giggled, and I had to suppress a laugh.
After she had left the room, Humphrey sprang out of his chair, making the candles shake and the silverware rattle on their plates. He was next to Jon within a breath, yanking him up by the collar. My fork frozen in midair. “What are you on!” Humphrey yelled.
“Fuck, nothing!” Jon yelled back, his face turning red. Desperately, I looked at his mother to intervene, but she just stared at her napkin.
“Don’t treat me like a fool, Jon!” Humphrey thundered. “I know the signs of being high, and you have all eight of them!”
“Gee, thanks. Maybe I’m just naturally ugly.”
Humphrey let go of his collar. “We gave you a chance. We thought for her”—he pointed at me, a bit of spit flying through the air—“you wouldn’t mess it up again. Who knows why though!”
Jon shoved Humphrey away, staring a challenge into his eyes. “First of all, her name is Emily, and she’s fucking amazing. And second of all, I didn’t mess up. I’m sober!”
Humphrey scoffed disbelievingly. Unfortunately, I could see where he was coming from, but there were better parenting strategies to get Jon to talk.
“Let’s do a blood test,” his mother said suddenly, drawing everyone’s attention.
Jon’s brows furrowed in disgust. “What?!”
She stood up, gripping her used napkin. “It’s the only way to know for sure if you’re sober or not.”
“If you don’t trust me, I don’t know why we’re even here,” Jon retorted.
He grabbed my hand and tugged me out of the dining room. I didn’t look back as we dashed out the front door toward freedom.
The second we stepped out, Jon lit a cigarette, raging, and started pacing circles on the pathway. “Can you believe them? They want to test my blood like I’m a freaking science project!”
I looked down at my hands, well aware he would hate what I was about to say. “I don’t think it’s such a bad idea, Jon.”
“What?” he yelled, coughing out smoke. “Are you fucking kidding me?”
“I trust you when you say you’re not using, but they don’t know you the way I do. I agree that the way they asked you was wrong. But think about it—it would reassure them that you’re not high, and it’s another reason to not relapse because you need to prove that you’re sober.”
Jon narrowed his eyes at me.
I tried again. “From a psychological angle, this is an opportunity to support you in your fight.”
His shoulders slumped, and he took another drag. “I can’t believe you’re on their side...”
“I’m not on their side!”
“Yes, you are!”
“Fuck, Jon. This isn’t about whose side I’m on! This is about you reconnecting with your mother. Screw Humphrey, but she’s your mom! She went through the same thing you did, and she got sober. Do you want to be at war with her for the rest of your life?”
Jon looked down at his feet. I walked up to him, put my palms on the spot behind his neck they so effortlessly molded onto. “What does it hurt to do a blood test if it makes her happy?”
Jon rested his head on my shoulder. “Fine... I’ll do it.”
“You will?”
“Yes, but this better be the only time you’re siding with them.”
“I promise.” A promise that was easy to make.
He drew himself out of my embrace and I used my chance to kiss him, tasting nicotine on his dry lips. “You know,” he said, “I’m thankful that you came, but I’m in desperate need of a meeting.”
“Can I come with you?”
“You can come anywhere with me.” Jon stroked my cheek. “Except for hell, because you’re going to heaven.” He laughed and leaned down to pick a little white daisy from the side of the path.
“You know I don’t believe in that.”
“Then what do you believe in?” He tucked the daisy behind my ear, and I shivered as his knuckles caressed my cheek.
“That in the after, we’re with whoever we want to be, forever.”
“Forever is a long time,”he said, pressing me against his chest.
“Not when you’ve found the one person that makes you the luckiest.”
Jon’s eyes shone, and he leaned down to give me the most tender kiss I had ever received. It was longing, soft yet passionate, and my heart overflowed with love for this boy.