Chapter 27
EMILIA
“What are you wearing, and why are you making me look at it?”
“My mom made it for me.” I stand up and back away from my laptop camera so Franklin can get a better look at me posing in my red knit sweater with a snowman on the front. “I match my parents. We just took family pictures.”
“Take it off. I’m begging you.”
“Funny you should say that,” I say, climbing back onto the guest bed and not removing my sweater. “I need some advice.”
“And I’m giving it to you. You should take off that sweater. Or I’m ending this call.”
“Hang on.” I check to make sure the door to my parents’ guest room is locked and listen at the door to make sure no one’s in the hallway outside of it. And then I get back on the bed in front of my laptop. “Okay, so there’s something I want to give Alex as a surprise Christmas present.”
“I thought you told him you aren’t exchanging presents.”
“Exactly—that’s why it’s a surprise.”
Franklin covers his eyes. “Okay, you have exactly ten minutes, and then I have to go back downstairs and help my mom with something.”
I lower my voice and lean in toward the camera. “So, I want to do a little Christmas sexting.”
“Uh-huh.”
“How do I do that?”
He laughs and removes his hands from his eyes. “You’ve never sexted with a guy before?”
“Not really. How do I initiate it?”
“Well, he’s a guy. You could literally just start with a boob pic, or request a dick pic, and I promise you he’ll take it from there.”
“I don’t want to exchange pictures. Just words. Dirty words.” I hold up my notepad and pen. “So what should I write?”
“You want me to ghost write your sexts with the Sexy Daddy? How many cups of your mom’s mulled wine have you had?”
“Exactly the right amount to sext with the Sexy Daddy. I just need a few suggestions. To get me going. Like, should I tell him I’m naked?”
“Amateur! Do you need me to explain to you what goes in what hole too?
I ignore that because I’m writing Hi. I’m naked. on my notepad.
“I guess I just need you to tell me how it usually works. Do I tell him what I want him to do? Do I tell him what I think about when I’m touching myself? Do I describe what I’m doing to myself while I’m thinking about him?”
“All of the above. You don’t need my help for this, little dirty bird. You can fly on your own.”
“You don’t think he’ll think it’s creepy?”
“Do I think that a single man whom you’ve had sex with will think it’s creepy that you’re sending him dirty text messages? Hmmm…”
“Just give me some suggestions to get me going. Come on!”
Franklin stares at me for a weird couple of seconds before saying, “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but are you sure you want to write dirty text messages to him?
If you’re dating him in secret and you’re so worried about people at school finding out—you do take your phone to school with you, you know? People steal phones.”
“I’ll just delete the texts when we’re done. I’ll ask him to delete them on his phone too. I trust him.”
“Okay, well…” He calls out to his mother, disappears from view for a moment, and then returns and says, “I have to go. Just text me if you really need me. I’ll keep my phone with me.”
“Ugh. Fine. What are you helping your mom with?”
His mouth becomes a straight line and he barely moves it to say, “I have to put on pajamas and drink hot toddies while watching A Charlie Brown Christmas with her. It’s a tradition. Shut up, goodbye!”
He ends the call before I can tell him how cute that is. I love Christmas. I miss Alex, though. I even miss Ryder.
It has been a day and a half since I’ve seen Alex.
I’ve been wandering around my parents’ house with a big dopey grin on my face.
I just tell them that I’m glad to have a break from school.
I can’t tell them that the real reason I’m so happy is because I’m secretly dating the father of one of my students.
They will have strong opinions about it, and I don’t want them or anyone else to burst my bubble.
It’s a beautiful bubble. I’m going to enjoy being in it while I can.
And I’m going to make this beautiful bubble really dirty.
I add a few sext ideas to my list and flip the notebook over as soon as I hear a knock at the door.
“Emilia, dear? Are you still in there?”
“Yeah, Mom. I’m just making notes. For school stuff. What’s up?”
She fiddles with the doorknob. “Did you lock the door?”
“Oh, is it locked?”
“Emilia, open the door please so I don’t have to yell.”
I slide my notebook under the pillow and straighten myself up before unlocking the door. As if my mother would somehow be able to know just from looking at me in my knitted Christmas sweater that I was composing dirty text messages to my secret boyfriend.
I open the door to face my mother, who is wearing the same sweater, perfectly set medium waves in her hair, green velvet track pants with red reindeer slippers, and an apron that says Keep calm and have another glass of wine.
She is drying her hands on a dishtowel when she frowns at me and leans in to whisper, “Brush your hair, Emilia. Brent is downstairs.”
“What? Now?”
“Yes. He just came over.”
“Well, I don’t want to see him. Tell him to go away.”
“I will do no such thing.”
“He didn’t even text me to ask if he could come over. How does he even know I’m here?”
“I told him.”
“When?”
“When I ran into him at Albertsons last week.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
“I didn’t know if he’d come by or not. Maybe you should change out of that sweater.”
“Mom. I don’t want to see him. Why did you invite him in? Why would you do that?”
“He brought a gift basket! I can’t turn him away. He’s not a vampire, Emilia. He’s your ex-boyfriend. He’s still single, and he wants to see you. Don’t make Dad wait down there with him, now. You know he’s not good at small talk.”
“Well, neither am I.”
“Then talk to him about important things.”
I pull off my sweater and find a blouse to put on. “Mom. I’m not getting back together with Brent. Ever.”
“Okay, honey,” she says. Because she’s heard it before.
“I’m serious.”
She nods and leaves the doorway. “I’ll make us all hot toddies!”
“No! Do not make him a hot toddy!”
Ugh. This is exactly the opposite of how I wanted my night to go.
I get my phone from the charger and find a text from Alex.
Just a “how’s it going up there” text, but it makes me happy again for one second, nonetheless.
I send him a quick response, telling him I’ll be in touch with him later, and go downstairs.
With my phone. Because in a way, it feels like I’m bringing Alex with me in my back pocket.
But with each step I take, I feel my blood running a little colder.
My mom was wrong. Brent is a vampire. He’s a time-sucking vampire, and I’m not going to let him suck more than ten minutes from my life tonight.
I find him sitting on the sofa in the living room, talking to my dad about budget analysis. I know my dad asked him about his job, because that’s what he does, but my dad’s eyes are glazing over and he stands up as soon as he sees me.
“There she is!” my dad exclaims. “I’ll go help your mother in the kitchen. Great to see you, Brent.”
“You too, sir.” Brent stands up, watching me.
I stop where I am, at the edge of the living room.
He’s wearing the cardigan I gave him last Christmas.
I guess it’s sweet of him, but I can’t believe I was twenty-six and dating a guy that I would buy cardigans for as Christmas presents.
Literally anything I’d give Alex would be more interesting than that, because he’s interesting.
Because I’m so much more interested in him.
I feel almost nothing as I stand here staring at Brent. Which is depressing because it’s not right to stand in a room with a beautifully decorated Christmas tree and a person that you used to live with and to feel almost nothing. “Hello, Brent” is all I have to say.
He doesn’t even say hello. He just crosses the room to hug me.
“Did you see Atticus?” is what I want to know as I pat his back and then step away from him.
“Is he here?”
“Of course he’s here.”
“Nobody mentioned it. Where is he?”
“He’s probably in the kitchen. Never mind.” The fact that Atticus didn’t come out to greet him tells me so much. “So. Happy holidays.”
“You look well. You look different. Nice, though.”
Wow. I can’t believe I was ever even remotely attracted to this person.
“You should have let me know that you wanted to come over.”
“Your mother invited me to drop by. I wanted to surprise you.”
“Surprise!” I cross my arms in front of my chest. “I’m actually in the middle of something.”
He crosses his arms, mimicking me. “On Christmas night?”
“Yes.”
“How are things in LA?”
“Things in LA are amazing, actually. Better than I’d ever imagined it could be.” Now I’m feeling things. “I didn’t know I could be so happy.” I wipe a tear from the corner of my eye and sniffle.
I can tell immediately, from the look on his face, that Brent is misreading the tear and the sniffle.
“Em,” he says, reaching for my arm.
I shrug away from him.
“I’m sorry I haven’t been calling. I wasn’t sure how to deal with this.”
“This has been dealt with. Why are you here?”
“I wanted to tell you that I’ll be in Pasadena early next year, for a conference.”
“Oh yeah? How exciting for Pasadena.”
“I’d like to take you out for dinner when I’m there.”
“I’ll be busy.”
“You don’t even know what days I’ll be there yet.”
“I’m always busy with schoolwork, Brent. Have you forgotten?”
“I’ll be there on the weekend. You aren’t always busy with schoolwork on the weekend.”
“I’m busy with other things on the weekend. Listen, it was nice to see you, Brent. Thank you for bringing my parents a gift basket, but I have to get back to something.” I start to walk away.
“I’m also going to be meeting with someone in Pasadena about a job, Emilia,” he says, like he’s telling me that he just won a million dollars and he’s offering to give me half.
I whip back around. “Why? Why would you do that?”
“It’s a really good job. I thought you’d be a little happier to hear this.”
“You’re joking, right?”
Brent appears to be genuinely confused right now. “You always wanted me to move to LA with you. Now I’m actually considering it. What is wrong with you tonight?”
I step closer to him and lower my voice so my parents don’t hear this, but I make sure he can hear me.
“I thought I wanted you to move to LA with me when we were a couple. Because I wanted to move there. Because that’s what couples do.
But I am so soooooo glad you didn’t. We are not a couple anymore.
I no longer care if you move there or not.
I hope you have a nice life, I really do, but I am no longer a part of it.
Fuck you, Brent. I don’t have anything else to say to you, but I’ve always wanted to say that to your face.
So thanks for the opportunity. I’d like you to leave. ”
I go back upstairs. To my laptop. To my notes. To reach out to a man who deserves to be reached out to. A man who deserves everything. My time and my heart and my dirty texts and maybe even a sexy man-cardigan if there is such a thing.