Page 97 of The Girl Out of Time
Emmeline’s words stuck in her throat.Binding, suppressive, she’d wanted to say, but realized quickly enough it wasn’t true. Or at least, it wasn’t the entire truth.
Because the future—her life—it had also been beautiful.
“Emmeline?” Theo’s voice was gentle, and as she raised her eyes to him, she beheld him through the blurriness of tears. “What’s wrong?” He lifted his hands, as if to hold her shoulders, then dropped them.
“I miss them so much,” she squeezed out.
Theo led her to the bed, and they sat down. “You said you left because of the restrictions your parents placed on you.”
“I was wrong. Anything they did, it wasn’t worse than not having them in my life at all.”
He let a few moments pass in heavy silence. “Tell me about them,” he said then.
She shook her head, sniffling.
“It’ll help.” With hooded eyes, Theo glanced at the carpeted floor. “Do you remember the night I told you about Jean-Baptiste?”
He hadn’t wanted to speak about him, either, but she’d asked him to. And it had helped him.
So the words finally poured out of her, memories rushing out like an avalanche. She told him of every beautiful, funny, and happy moment she could think of, and there were many; so many she’d kept away in her anger and bitterness, in her stubborn desire to break away from her family.
Her birthday four years ago, when Mother had announced Emmeline was old enough to get a real adult evening gown, and she took her shopping at Times Square. They spent the entire day going from clothier to clothier, trying on dresses, posing and laughing and bringing home not one, but five pieces.
The summer when she was little and Father had taught her how to ride a bicycle (first, she had to explain to Theo what a bicycle was). Father had spent two hours beforehand making sure the touted safety bicycle really was safe, and attempted to give Emmeline careful instructions, only for her to hop on and drive off, promptly crashing into a nearby bush with heaps of laughter and a few scratches on her arms.
Or the winter before last, when the whole family went to the Lake in Central Park to ice skate. Brendon was in the pinnacle of hisawkward teenage phase, and his uncoordinated, gangly limbs provided endless amusement for Emmeline as he tried his best to keep balance on ice skates. Tristan, conversely, had taken to skating like an ice demon, and would probably make it to the other side of Manhattan, if only the rink stretched far enough.
And she told Theo about New York. About how you could walk for hours in one direction and still not reach the end of the city, but that you could also travel by subway—trains that went underground (she explained trains, first). She told him about skyscrapers, the impossibly tall buildings that sprung up all around Manhattan as she grew up, and of the evenings spent watching shows on Broadway, withTwelfth Nightbeing her favorite.
Sometime during her outpour, a warmness in her chest overcame the sadness. She still missed her family dearly, but talking about them, instead of trying to keep her thoughts away, released the invisible bindings around her heart.
“They sound lovely,” Theo said. “Your city, too. Frightening, but amazing.”
“It is.” She smiled. “They all are.”
He made a move with his hand again, but stopped himself before she could discern his intention.
“Thank you,” she said. “There’s no one else I could’ve told this to.”
As he opened his mouth, something hit the door from the outside, and a whispered giggle followed.
Emmeline looked to the door, then back to Theo. He pulled her to her feet as, frantically, she looked for a hiding space. Not under the bed, and there was no cover under either the vanity table or the writing desk.
“Window.” Theo dragged them toward it and, before Emmeline could question if he intended for them to jump out, pulled the heavy brocadecurtains to obscure them. Moonlight still shone on them, but the curtain fabric was thick enough their silhouettes weren’t visible from inside the room.
The door opened and someone stumbled in. “Oh, you naughty little minx,” an older male voice said.
A lighter female voice giggled. “What is this room?”
“Don’t know. But it’s got a bed, and that’s good enough.”
Emmeline covered her mouth to stop a snicker. Theo’s eyebrows shot up, but he looked mildly amused.
“Are you sure we won’t be found?” the lady said.
Emmeline bit down on her lip. Theo, pressed close to her in the small space behind the curtain, shook his head as if warning her to stay quiet, although based on his slipping poker face, he was doing his best not to laugh himself.
“Oh, my plump little dove,” the man said, and sounds of smooching and light moaning followed.
