Page 49 of Trustfall

“That night before I left…I still think about it. About what would have happened if I—” But I don’t finish the thought. Would it make a difference? If I told her how much I wanted her that night?

When I glance up, Emory’s hazel eyes are glittering with unshed tears. She blinks, and a single tear escapes, cascading down her cheek. I reach up with my thumb and rub it into her skin.Fuck.This is what I was afraid of.

She sucks in a breath and clears her throat, shaking her head as if to chase away all of the memories and possibilities floating between us. She grabs some strawberries from one of the containers and starts to eat them, her eyes still glistening. I follow suit and pick up the grapes, popping a few into my mouth. We sit and eat in silence for a few minutes. It’s so quiet, and I’m almost startled when she speaks again.

“My grandfather used to say that opportunities are never truly lost. Someone ends up taking the ones you let slip away. I just wish…” Now she trails off.

“What, Emory? You wish what?” I’m so close to begging her to open up to me.

She flicks her eyes to mine. “Nothing, never mind.” She starts to clean up the food, placing tops on containers and putting them into my backpack. I swallow down the frustration. You can’t force someone to bare their soul to you, and she already let one confession slip today.

“So why did you come back then?” She’s changing the subject. “You seemed so excited to get out of Emberfield. You literally left the day after graduation.”

Shit. I didn’t really want to go there with her yet, but maybe if I open up to her, she’ll let me in a little.

“I don’t know if Nate ever mentioned this…” I start. “My dad suffers from mental illness. It was bad when I was little, but then he got really good care, started taking the right meds, and was doing great. It’s why we moved to Connecticut. We needed a fresh start away from all the bad memories.”

Emory looks surprised, but I also see the faintest note of pity in her expression. That look is exactly why I was avoiding this conversation. That and I am going to have to tell her what a piece of shit I am, but I go on anyway.

“He was doing really well here. He continued with medication and therapy, started his construction business, made some friends. But then during my senior year, we got into it a lot. He wanted me to go to college. He regretted not going or something, but I always knew that wasn’t the right path for me. We had a blow-up the night before graduation. He was angry and aggressive. It almost came to blows, but my mom intervened, and we both backed down. It was just so unlike him. Even when he was at his worst, he was either manic or depressed, never aggressive. I had already planned to travel after the summer that year, but after that night, I just felt like I wanted to run away and never come back. So I did.”

I look over at Emory, and she’s listening intently to every word. She no longer has that look of pity. She just looks sad. For me. For the situation. Maybe all of it.

“I’m so sorry, Luke,” she says as she moves closer to my spot on the blanket. “I knew you had a rocky relationship with your dad, but I had no idea how bad it got. That’s why you never came back to visit.”

I nod. “Yeah.”

“So, what happened recently to make you come back?”

“I kept tabs on the whole situation through my mom. I wanted to make sure she didn’t get caught up in anything bad. But once I left, she said everything went completely back to normal. Dad was back to his normal self. No more outbursts. No aggression. But then, a little over a month ago, I got a call from my mom. My dad was having manic and depressive episodes and had stopped taking his meds. He finally agreed to go into an inpatient program at Emberfield Memorial. It meant he would be away from work for months. My mom was prepared to run his business and hers, but I couldn’t let her do that, so I came home to take over his company. It meant I had to quit my job and give up my apartment in New York, so I probably won't go back there even if he comes back to work.”

Emory leans over and takes my hand in hers, running her thumb back and forth over the crease.

“Emberfield has a great in-patient program. He’s in good hands. I’m sure he will get the help he needs and be able to get back to his old life again.”

“I hope so.”

Then, understanding colors her face. “That’s why you hate doctors’ offices and hospitals,” she guesses. “You probably went to a lot when you were a kid.”

I tip my head up in confirmation. “My mom and Grandma tried to shield me from it all, but sometimes they couldn’t, and I had to go to them. I grew to hate any kind of medical facility. The smell. The sadness…”

“It’s common,” I assure him. “Especially with patients or family members who have had extended hospital stays.”

“Yeah. Anyway, that’s my story.”

“It’s just part of it, Luke. Your dad’s illness doesn’t define you. Or him.”

She’s right. I hadn’t planned on telling her the worst part of the whole situation, but something about the fact that she’s probably seen and heard it all as a nurse makes me feel like I can trust her.

“I’m gonna sound like a complete asshole for this,” I admit, “but sometimes I blame him. If he had never gotten sick, we would have been a normal family. I wouldn’t have had to become well-acquainted with the inside of a psych ward when I was eight,” I rake a hand through my hair. “It’s just—when he pulls shit like this. Not taking his medicine…” I shake my head, knowing I sound like an unfeeling prick.

Emory squeezes my hand, looking directly at me, but her gaze is not one of judgment. It’s understanding.

“I know refusal to take meds is part of the disease and common and shit, but it’s still hard to understand. Why would he not want to get better? Anyway, I’ve sort of always resented him for it. I brought up something bad he did a long time ago that night during our fight. It was something I knew he regretted. I shouldn’t have done it. It was a low blow, but I was angry. Hurt people hurt people. You know?”

Emory brings her other hand up to my cheek and moves her head so that it’s against mine. “I do know. You’re not an asshole, Luke. I’m not exactly the poster child for successful relationships with fathers, but I think the fact that you’re worried about it means you care.”

“Thank you,” I say softly, and I mean it. She could have judged me just now, but she didn’t. I want to know more about her relationship with her father. I know Nate has never seen eye-to-eye with their dad, but I didn’t realize Emory also had a strained relationship with him. But she interrupts my thoughts before I can ask.

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