Dear Emily (6 page)

John held the door open for his wife
and Amy. From the backseat of the car, she struggled to keep up
with the pleasant conversation when the same thought kept echoing
in her mind.

How did I
not know it was Jack's birthday?

Even more troubling,
how had Amy
never known Jack had killed Emily on his
birthday?

Jack hadn't enjoyed his
birthday in exactly four years. His family understood
this and thankfully, never pestered him to change the way
he felt about this particular anniversary. His parents
and sister called to say happy birthday, but they tried to keep the
celebration to a minimum. He was thankful for their
consideration and restraint.

After all, he still had to
remind himself, from time to time, there was no way
he could have swerved out of the way to avoid
hitting Emily. It was a numbers game and the physics
of it still haunted him. So how could he be
expected to celebrate the very anniversary of her
death?

Impossible.

He'd tried to focus on the good
thoughts when it came to Amy. The end of the semester
loomed ahead of them, and he'd lose her. He
didn't know how much of
her he'd lose. But Jack was sure she'd move
out.

Then what?

So he fixed his mind on what
he knew for sure: He liked having her around. He liked
the way she drank his coffee as if he'd produced gold
from the espresso machine. He liked the messy way she spread her
papers all over the living room and dining room to study. He liked
how she insisted on watching scary movies even
though it meant she'd sleep with the light on
for days after.

He liked the way she smelled—vanilla
and honey.

What he didn't like was the
fear he felt. He was going to lose
her entirely.

The sun was setting when he
and Tom returned to the farm. It took an hour to unload
the equipment and set it up in the barn.

Jack became suspicious when
he saw both Chris and Tyler were still on site.
He checked his watch. It was rare for them to
stay at the farm so late in the day.

“Come up to the house,” Tyler
insisted.

Jack rubbed the back of his neck. “No,
I think I'm ready to head back to town. It was a
long day on the road.”

“Come on,” Chris said,
laughing.

Jack was backing up toward
his truck when Terri, having heard them outside, opened
the sliding screen door to the house and hollered. “Jack, would you
come inside already?

Everyone is waiting!”

He would have run out on
Tyler and Chris on some lame excuse, but he couldn't disappoint
Terri. His two friends gave him meaningful looks as they
walked back up to the house.

As he entered the dining room, he
mustered up a smile. Terri had apparently gone to
some trouble to put together a dinner party for his birthday. The
table overflowed with cheese, meats, and beer.
Tom was busy in the kitchen, but he shouted with the rest
of them.

“Surprise!”

Jack was amazed at how Tom
seemed to have a never-ending supply of energy reserved.
Jack could barely keep steady on his feet.
He was tired from the
day. But here was Tom, shaving meat onto large
platters.

Chris and Tyler were slapping
Jack's back and wishing him a happy birthday. The
Abbots were there too.

And Amy.

Someone had brought Amy to
celebrate on the anniversary of her sister's death. Jack pinned her
with his gaze, and he hoped his look conveyed all
apologies. She was smiling and clapping with the others,
but he could see what she was hiding. Her
face probably mirrored his own.

When the
company had settled into natural conversation,
Jack noticed Amy had left the table for the
bathroom. He went to look for
her, feeling it was necessary to speak to her
private.

He caught her in the hallway as
she was exiting the bathroom. She jumped, startled and he
stretched his arm out to grip her slight shoulder. “Sorry,” he
said, taking her upper arm with his free hand and guiding her to
stand with her back against the wall in the narrow hallway, out of
sight from the others.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“Yes, you startled me.”

He shook his head. “No, I mean... I'm
sorry about all of this.”

She fixed him with her gaze. “I'm only
sorry I didn't know it was your birthday you,
big dummy. You saw me this morning, and you didn't say
anything. You didn't say anything at all.”

He dropped his hands.
“And what exactly was I supposed to say? 'Good
morning, Amy. I'm sorry I killed your sister four years ago. Time
heals all things! Oh, and by the way, it's my birthday.'
Is that it?”

“Well, yes,” Amy said, in a menacing
whisper. “It's better than the alternative, which
is exactly what happened if
you haven't noticed.”

Jack let his head fall
back, slowly shaking it from left to right. “I
don't know how you remain so cool. How can you even stand
the sight of me, Amy? I don't get it at
all.”

“Don't start
with that garbage.” Deep lines had formed
between her brows. She eyes filled for a moment like she might
cry. Instead, she clamped her mouth shut and turned to
leave.

“No you don't,” he said, gripping her
by the shoulders again to spin her around to face him. “Forget I
said that. Can you forget I
said that?”

He was not a little frantic
for her to concede. He wasn't sure what he wanted from
her or if he even wanted anything at all. But he
did know he didn't want her turning away from
him.

“It's impossible to forget
something once someone's said something,” she said, not at all
helpful.

“Try,” he said, dryly.

She waited for a beat.
“Alright, it's forgotten. Now let's go
out there and try to look happy?
You have friends that did something for
you.”

“They're your friends too,
you know?”

Amy nodded, accepting this fact. “I
guess I have that to thank you for as well. Along
with everything else.”

“You owe me for that,” he
said, smiling for the first time. “You have no idea the
bribes I have to give out for them to
be nice to you.”

“That's not true!” she said,
swatting playfully at his arm.

“No, it's not true. They like
you without my help.”

“Happy birthday, Jack.”

“Thank you, Amy. I'm glad to
spend it with my friends.”

As the night progressed and the
cheese began to
sweat, it was clear that Chris and
Tyler were sore at him for being dull. Apparently,
he wasn't grateful enough to their liking. A lot of
trouble they went through and
Jack could barely crack a smile. By the end of the
night, he was a little drunk. The conversation and
food had been filling, but now they wanted
games.

Jack didn't feel like playing
games.

“Alright, alright,” Chris said, talking
louder than everyone else. “A drinking game.”

“Oh, I think I'm a little old for
drinking games,” Terri said, mildly.

“You're never too old for drinking
games,” said Chris. “You don't even have to take a
shot, really. You say something you've done and if
anyone else has done the same thing,
they have to drink. If no one
else has done it, then you have to
drink. It should be something
obscure, get it? That's what
makes it fun.”

Amy watched Jack as he leaned
back in his chair. If she weren't at the
party, he'd be having a better
time. But she was there and it was painful
for him.

Of
that, she was sure.

“I don't think I want to play this
game,” Jack said, rubbing at the back of his neck.

“Sure you do,” Chris insisted. “I'll
start.”

Chris was slurring his
words. If Jack was a little drunk,
Chris was a lot drunk.

“Let's see,” began Chris. “One
time I jumped off a restricted bridge.” He threw back another shot,
even though those were not the rules of the game, and
slammed the glass on the table.

Several others around the table took a
drink as well, including Jack. Amy was surprised
to see Professor Abbot take a drink.
Sarah looked at him in mock astonishment.

“Alright,” continued Chris.
“Now it's the birthday boy's turn.
Let's hear it, Jack.”

“I don't want to play, Chris. Someone
else can have a turn. I'll just drink,
alright?”

Chris wouldn't stop. “Don't be sore,
Jack! It's your turn. Now, go ahead.”

“Alright, Chris. I
think that's enough,” Tom finally said, sensing
Jack's discomfort.

“No, I think he should have a
good time instead of sitting there like his
dog just got run over by a car.”

Amy winced.

Jack's head tilted to one side before
he reached out and took a shot of whiskey from the center of the
table. He tossed it back and set the glass back down. He
pinched the edge of the glass between his finger and thumb as he
spoke.

His eyes remained fixed on the glass.
“Four years ago today,” Jack began.

“Jack,” whispered Amy.

His head inclined again, tipping
forward for a moment before he continued. “I was back
home for my birthday and I heard that my
girlfriend was throwing me a surprise party. I didn't
want to be early to her house because I didn't want to spoil the
surprise. You see?” he said with a crooked smile.

“So I took a long way around. This
road ran parallel to a popular trail. You know, bikers,
runners, and birdwatchers, that sort of thing.

“Anyway, I was driving,” he
paused to sigh. “And I didn't see...” he hesitated, “I
didn't have time to swerve out of the way. She came out
of nowhere. And I hit her with my car. I didn't hit
another car. I hit a person with my car.”

He looked up then and
his eyes searched the table. Amy kept her eyes fixed on
the bottle of whiskey. Jack pushed back in his seat and stood. He
took one more shot of whiskey and walked out of the
house.

Silence.

“Four years ago today,” Amy
said, instantly wishing she'd stay quiet
instead, but knowing she should just tell them. “My
sister died. She veered from a walking trail and a car hit her.
Jack's car.”

Amy paused, swallowing the lump in her
throat. “You didn't know. That wasn't fair of
him to tell you
like that. It's nice that you put this
birthday dinner together for him.
I know he'll feel terrible tomorrow. I think
I'm going to drive him home, though.”

“Amy,” said Tom, reaching out to touch
her forearm.

“We're fine. It's just still a rotten
day, you know?”

Tom nodded. But she
didn't know if Jack was okay or not. “Thank you for
dinner,” she said to Terri before leaving the house.

She surveyed the area outside the
door to the house, wondering how far
Jack had walked. He could have left to
walk the perimeter of the farm to get his head straight
for all she knew, but she found him in the truck.

She climbed up into the cab and the
heavy, metal door closed behind her with a clank. “Well, I for
one had a good time. It was much better
than moping around the house all night.”

Jack's head was resting back
against the bench seat. He laughed, a pitiful sound
and slowly turned his head to the left until
he was staring straight at her. They stayed
like that for what seemed like a long time.

“I should apologize,” Jack
said.

Amy shrugged “Maybe a small
apology.”

“I should do that now,” he
said.

Amy nodded.
“Then again, it would probably be fine if
you call them tomorrow.”

“No, I should go talk to them now while
they're all together.”

“I told them about Emily.”

He nodded once and opened his door.
Each of his movements took longer than usual. Pause. Open the door.
Pause again. Step out of the truck with half of his body. Step out
of the truck with the other half of the body.
This was going to take forever.

“I'm going to wait for you outside
if that's okay?”

He nodded again and, with some effort,
closed the door behind him. He had a certain slow
gait that she'd never seen
before. Then again, she'd never seen him drink
so much before.

Amy tired of waiting after a few
minutes. Jack hadn't left the keys and
she had no way of knowing for sure how long the
talk was going to take. He didn't have to
answer any of their questions. Though they
might have some.

About her?

She walked away from the house and up
to a large, ficus tree. Other than the massive
tree, it was the only clearing at this side of the
farm.

And with good reason. You didn't
want a ficus anywhere near a house. The roots of the
ficus had a way of tearing under a home's foundation,
twisting their way, wreaking havoc to the pipes. In the daytime,
however, the ficus provided considerable shade.