Emeral sat on her bed, tumbling the little red phone between her palms, and tumbling Ket's last, few little words in her mind.
I'll call your cell later...
Back... front...
I'll call your cell...
When was the last time he'd called her cell? She could check... September 9th, 8:14 PM. The bath-time call.
The song on her CD changed, playing low-volume tones in her left ear, while the right was free to listen to the outside world. It was about that time right now--actually past: 8:20. But she was all done with her nightly routine. She ate an early dinner: rotisserie chicken from the store, green beans and mashed potatoes, as well as a banana. It took a lot of effort but she managed to eat good portions. Then she took her bath, and made a hurry of that too. She skipped washing her hair, even though it was in desperate need. She got out of doing her chores, feigning fatigue and promising to do them tomorrow.
Then she sat hereupon her bed, as she had done all day listening to CDs, now on her eighth or ninth. Her player had died a while ago, so she had to plug it in. She went ahead and did the same for her phone, even though it was at three-fourths battery. She shivered; a light quilt draped over her shoulders, two shirts on and the rest of the shabang, but it couldn't save her from nervous chills.
Her thoughts had all burned up, and only ashes remained now. She'd listened to that voice, terrible as it was. It made her chest feel taught while it spoke, made her feel like she was getting compressed into a tiny pancake by two giant rolling pins.
It scared her, but not in a way she'd ever been scared before.
She had made the mistake of watching horror movies, resulting in many-many nights staying up late and cowering under the covers. But she knew that fear.
She had made the mistake of going on the tallest roller coaster at the theme park. The terror as she peered over the edge of the curving hill down at that tiny sliver of track below, and then feeling lifted off the seat, was probably the closest that could be compared to this. But still, she knew that fear.
This fear was so different. It didn't involve noise; it didn't involve motion; it didn't involve the dark shadows or the flickering lights or the violin or the temblor of giants’ footsteps; the blood, the symbols, the Latin and the puppets. This fear was quiet. It was subtle. It sat next to you, and rubbed your back with an icy, delicate touch.
No, it was the realization that someone who had done that may not do that again.
It was the waiting, the uncertainty, the whole of the quagmire events that happened over five hours ago.
It worried her, the way he acted, like he was trying to get away after his mom called. Maybe he was using that as a break; maybe he thought she was crazy. She certainly acted that way. How much she wished she could rewind time and do it all over again! Or go back in time and warn herself. Or jump to alternate dimension where it just never happened in the first place. But that only happened in stories--in fairy-tales with guaranteed happy endings of ever-ever after.
What if he didn't call? Another stroke on her back from the feathery hand of fear. What if he was lying, just to make her be quiet and not contact him? He had been so forceful with his smiles, his cheer, like he was hiding something. Hiding that he never wanted to talk to her again maybe. Or what if he just forgot her cell-number? Would he call the house phone?
This was so stupid! She growled and tore the bud out of her ear, frustrated at the music. Why should she have to spend her entire day waiting for this stupid call? Whatever. He could call if he wanted; she wouldn't answer it! If he cared at all about her he would have--
And then it happened. She was surprised but she did not jump or flinch. The phone vibrated in her palm, and began chirping its little song. She let it ring... Ark... Ark... blinked on the outer screen. She rehearsed her lines again in a split second, her brain whirring back to life, temblors returning to her spine. At last she flipped open the phone, then slowly brought it to her ear.
"He--hello?" She asked with a parched tongue.
"Hi." He spoke quietly.
"Ket," she spoke with a clipped voice, "listen, before you say anything, I have to say something, okay?" She waited, and there was no response, so she took it as a go; "I thought alot, about today, and I decided I still need to make it up to you." Her voice was quivering but she didn't care, in fact that was good, maybe it would convince him she was really sorry. "I don't know if it's enough but, see, mom's been teaching me how to use the stove. There's this thing--I forget what it's called--but it's like Insta-Mac, only it's supposed to be like a thousand times tastier. I don't quite have it down yet, and I wanted to wait until more around Christmas but maybe, if you want, we can get together really soon and--and I can cook it for you?"
A painful silence. Anything but silence!
"Emeral..." his voice came, like he had just woken from a thousand-year slumber, "that sounds nice, but...we can't see each other for a little while."
Those words. She thought that she would never have to say or hear those words, not ever-ever. They were damning words. They were horrible words. But no...there was hope, there was always hope. Unless that's what the words wanted you to think. The fear came back, that strange fear. It caressed her back, kneading her like a supple mound of coward-dough--she wished it was him!
"Ket...I...I know I screwed up," she said with a warble in her voice, with audible desperation, "And I understand. Just please, take all the time you need, don't worry about me all right?" She made the motion to hang up the phone, to help ease the ending, to shut the book altogether--but just as she was about to he must have sensed it; he spoke tensely through the speaker.
"What? Wait, wait!"
She froze with the phone half-closed, heart pounding, cheeks burning, eyes beginning to boil over. It fell back open almost on its own, and she moved it to her ear.
"Emmy, what are you talking about?"
"What you said...the way you acted. I know you don't wanna be around me. S'o'vious."
"Emeral stop."
It was not a loud command. It was not a frustrated command. It was not an annoyed command. It had no inflection, no tone, no direction; it just simply was. And she just simply did. Her breathing, her eyes, her hands, her feet, her thoughts. If she could stop her beating heart or the disobediently quivering muscles, she would have.
"First rule," he said calmly. "If you think today was bad, I want you to know it wasn't," he continued, "In fact, I'm glad what happened, happened. I'm glad I know how you feel, that Ritzer has been doing what he's been doing. And I am going to do something about it--I don't know what yet, and I probably won't tomorrow. But I will know when school starts again. And I always want to be around you, don't ever-ever think otherwise okay?"
"But...I did exactly what you didn't want!" She protested, "I got angry. I yelled at you. I hurt you. Just like what your--"
"Yeah, and then what did you do?"
She froze. Simple question, but what was the answer. "I don't...I don't know," she admitted.
"Well," he said softly, calmingly--like a gentle stroke upon her back--"Think about it for a while, and maybe you'll understand." There was a moment of silence, of just listening to each other's breathing. He took in a breath, and spoke with just as quivering of a voice as she had, his convictions wearing thin. "Trust me, Emmy, I wanna see you more than anything right now. But it's best you stay away..."
"Why?" She pleaded, "If you're not mad at me why can't we be together?"
The next three words made her heart stop. They made her toes and fingers shiver, and her mouth open wide. They made her head spin, and see white spots in front of her eyes. They were three words she had never even believed were possible for him to say.
"Dad is coming."
Emeral felt absolute-zero. She expected a silence, a pause for her to catch herself; but there was none. It was like Ket bumped her, made her drop a stack of teetering books, and didn't pause to help her pick them up.
"He's coming Friday, at least that's what mom says. I can still walk you home tomorrow, but we'll need to hurry."
He waited as if for her confirmation.
"Emmy?"
"Don't worry about me, Ket," she said quickly but clearly, "Just go straight home. I won't call, come over, or anything. In fact, I'll wait for you to call me. I'll wait as long as it takes." She had to let him go, the sooner the better. "We should sleep, okay?"
"...Okay," he replied, but it sounded as if he didn't want to go.
"Good night, Ket."
"...Good night...Emeral."
She closed the phone. She didn't want to go either.
