Page 2 of Healing Hearts
“You didn’t ruin anything,” I say, “and I’m sorry I didn’t beam myself over here twenty minutes ago to intimidate the shit out of your internet date.”
“Internet dates,” Mckenna says with a shudder. “Those words are enough to inspire PTSD.” She takes a deep breath. “What did you want to order?”
“Sausage and chips,” I say, and then I eye Em across from me. “She needs black coffee, water, and she’ll eat all my fries, I’m sure.”
“I won’t eat themall,” Em says, waving me off. “I’ll leave you half.”
When Mckenna leaves, I focus on Emily. The last few weekends, this has become a routine. It doesn’t bother me that she calls, but it’s starting to feel like there might be more going on under the surface. Over the last year and a bit, she’s been a casual drinker, but lately, she’s turned getting drunk into her weekend profession.
“I’m starting to wonder if an alien species invaded your body, actually,” I say, grabbing the glass with what’s left of her shandy and tipping it back. God knows Emily doesn’t need more to drink. Sprite and beer isn’t my favorite combination, but Emily has taken a shine to it. “What’s going on with you?”
“What do you mean?” Emily asks, her words slightly slurred.
“The last… I don’t know—three, four weekends, you’ve gone on a date with some guy you met on the internet from Utica, gotten very drunk, and then called me.”
“Shit,” Emily whispers, “I knew I should have called someone else. But Maggie is out of town, Tyler has the baby, Lila moved to New York City, and my mom has Amir.”
“My little buddy is sleeping over at grandma’s tonight?” I ask, keeping my tone light.
“Yeah,” Em says, searching the crowd, probably for Mckenna and her coffee and water. “I’m sorry I ruined your night.”
“You ruined nothing. I like taking care of you, Em. I just want to understand what’s going on.”
“The dating pool is shallow and putrid,” she says. “So stinky.” She plugs her nose and groans. “But I promised my mom I’d get back out there.”
“Your heart isn’t in it,” I say.
“It’s been four years, and I don’t have a cluewheremy heart is. Half of it’s buried in the cemetery with Omar’s name on the headstone, and the other half is dedicated to our little boy. I don’t wannadate.”
“What do you want?” I ask as Mckenna returns with water for both of us and a coffee for Emily.
She gives me a faraway stare. “I don’t know. I wish I knew. I’m not really happy. I know that.”
My heart gives a painful squeeze in my chest. There’s no way she’d admit that if she was sober. The Sullivans are experts at pretending they’re fine until all hell breaks loose.
Emily’s expression and the way she said it remind me so much of her younger sister, Maggie, who wore the same helpless sadness like a cloak the night we first spoke in high school. Back then, I’d told her I could rescue her from the mean girl clique who had targeted her, and I had. I wish Emily’s problem right now was as easy to solve.
“But I don’t get the luxury of falling apart, because I have Amir. I won’t be a mess for him, you know. I’m all he’s got.”
“Just so you know,” I say, “you can fall apart every Saturday night, and I’ll happily pick up those pieces and keep them safe.”
“You’ll hold them for me?’ Em asks, her gaze softening.
“Until you’re ready to slot them back into place.”
“All right, folks, I’ve got sausage and chips,” Mckenna says, sliding the plate in front of me and setting down a folded set of utensils.
“Oh,” Em says, her eyes sparkling at the sight of food.
These dates she schedules seem to require a liquid diet—no actual food—which doesn’t seem healthy.
“We’re going to need a second set of cutlery,” Emily says.
Mckenna pulls one out of her apron and slides it over, and when she glances at me, I wink. Mckenna laughs, and I grin. After a couple weeks of this routine, we all know our roles.
Though, Emily’s confession about being unhappy, a little directionless, is new, and it’s playing through my head, a movie on a loop.
Emily digs out the knife and fork from the napkin, and I slide the plate closer to her so it’s more on her side of the table than mine. She cuts into the sausage and looks around for ketchup. I grab it and squirt a line on her piece.
