Rescue (Emily and Mason) (13 page)

“Alright, yeah, I’ll come over. What time?” She rattles off
that she’ll see me at six, and after an awkward goodbye we hang up. I glance at
the clock on my dash as I turn on the Camaro. I have an hour and a half exactly
to get home, get showered, dressed, and then make it over to Emily’s home.
Before I can forget the address, I plug it into the GPS app on my phone.

It takes me twenty minutes to decide upon whether or not
I’ll be wearing a button up shirt or just a t-shirt. I decide I’m not the
button up type, and pull a long sleeved shirt on instead of a t-shirt. That
should be formal enough for a dinner at my girlfriend’s house. I smile at the
thought, and whistle as I jog down the steps. My brother almost plows into me
as he opens up the door, but we manage not to kill each other.

I’m almost a minute late when I pull up to Emily’s home.
It’s a pretty little place in a development off the beaten path. I admire the
green shutters around the windows, and feel my gut flip flop when I see the
Lexus sitting in the driveway. Her parents must have some money. It takes me
another three minutes to get the nerve to step out of my vehicle. Now I’m
beginning to regret the alien chick on the hood of my car.

I have to admit, my footfalls are a lot stronger than I
thought they would have been. Maybe I should have worn something other than
these sneakers, but there’s no changing that now. Emily opens up the door as I
get up the steps.

Emily

Instead of his hair being up in spikes, he actually combed
it, and it falls down past the tops of his ears, but not past the earlobe. I
can’t help but look him up and down from head to toe as I step aside. I’m about
to tell him to come in when Jim comes down the stairs with what would be known
in the olden days as his Sunday best. He’s wearing a pair of black slacks, a
button down shirt with an actual pair of slick black shoes on and a belt.

Maybe I shouldn’t have told him about Mason coming over
tonight. But then again, it is his and Laura’s house. Still, he could have
toned it down a little bit.

“You must be Mason.” He holds his large hand out to Mason’s,
and I can’t help but notice that Mason’s is just as large as Jim’s. They look
nearly as rough too.

“And you must be Jim.” The two of them size each other up
for a few seconds in the doorway, and then I clear my throat.

“The enchiladas are getting cold.” I tell them both as I
turn around to head back into the kitchen. Against Jim’s nagging, I set up the
kitchen table instead of the dining room table. I don’t want Mason to feel any
more intimidated than he already does about meeting the two people I live with.

Jim settles himself down at the round table, but Mason helps
me actually move the steaming bowls of mashed potatoes, corn, and buttered
Brussels sprouts to the table. That’s a plus one for him in Jim’s eyes, and a
plus one for me too. We all dig in without speaking until our plates are full.
Then this awkward silence seems to fall over all of us as we try to come up
with something to say to one another. So I do what I normally do when someone
is sitting at the table with me.

“So how was your day?” The amusing part is both men think
I’m talking to them at once. Mason tries to answer, and Jim starts in right
away. They glance at each other awkwardly, and then Jim starts in again.

“Well one of the young men on my shift stuck both his
fingers together with a nail as he was attempting to put up a wall. I had to
drive him to the hospital, so the truck needs to be detailed tomorrow. That’s
why I’ve got Laura’s car.” I wrinkle my nose with disgust and Mason looks
intrigued.

“So what does Emily’s mom do for a living?” There’s this
moment where my stomach literally just drops right out from under me, and my
mouth hangs askew for a few seconds. Then I manage to swallow the bite of
mashed potatoes. Jim doesn’t seem to have fared any better than I, and he
shoots me an accusing look across the table.

Mason seems to understand that he’s overstepped some kind of
boundary or he’s brought up a very intense subject. Jim clears his throat,
quietly excuses himself and takes his plate out to the living room. He mumbles
something about Mason, and I needing to discuss something. I haven’t actually broached
this subject with anyone since my mother passed and I was brought into Jim and
Laura’s home as a foster child.

“What was that about?” Mason quietly asks me. His fork is
resting on his half eaten enchilada, and I feel bad for not mentioning this
before. Now neither one of us will get to finish our meal because surely Mason
will be scared off by someone like me. It seems my brain has forgotten about
the fact that he lost his mother at two years of age, and his father had a
rough time with it.

“Jim and Laura are my foster parents.” I start off with
that. Mason picks up his fork and shoves a glob of corn in. He chews
mechanically, which somehow makes me feel comfortable enough to go on. “I don’t
know who my father is or was. My mother never really talked about him. She just
said that they were too young to be responsible enough to have a kid, and as
far as I know he never sent child support.” This is not a conversation to be
had at the dinner table, but it seems this is where it’s going to take place.

“So your mother left you at a foster home because she wasn’t
able to care for a kid.” Mason takes a guess, and I feel my insides twist.

“No, my mother killed herself about nine months ago.” The
grip Mason has on the handle of his fork frightens me. His knuckles are turning
white, and I’m sure that it’s actually painful. He sets it down gently, wipes
his lips with his napkin, and turns to stare at me.

“So she couldn’t stick around until the end of your senior
year? That’s just,” Mason pauses, and I look down at my plate. Suddenly it’s
like I’m looking at a pile of sewage in front of me, and I feel queasy.
“Wrong.” Mason finally finishes.

I don’t know what to say to him about it. For the past few
weeks, even though I wake up from nightmares I still feel like my life has been
a little brighter since I meant Mason. Now he’s either going to see me as a
broken girl and treat me differently, or he’s going to be constantly reminded
of his own mother’s passing when he looks at me. I don’t know what I was
thinking, letting this get past being just acquaintances at the rescue center.

Just as I’m about to tell him that it’s alright if he wants
to leave, Mason reaches over and takes my hand in his. He doesn’t need to say
it, I know exactly what he’s thinking. It’s the same dilemma that I had when he
told me about his mother. There just aren’t words for the impact it has upon a
young person to lose their parents in a violent manner way too early.

After a few minutes, Jim comes in through the kitchen
doorway and Mason withdraws his hand. My enchilada looks like it should now,
and I’m not feeling as queasy. So I decide to finish my dinner, and just for
brownie points Mason helps me with the dishes. It’s past seven thirty by the
time we’re finished, and Laura manages to catch Mason before he leaves.

The two of them chat at the front door, and I patiently wait
for Laura to find her husband. When she’s finally gone, Mason doesn’t waste any
time. He puts his arm around my waist like he did earlier this morning, and he
pulls me in close. This time he lingers as he kisses me, and I feel his fingers
gripping the back of my t-shirt. The pool of heat that established at my lower
abdomen makes me blush, and when he gently parts my lips I can’t help the
squeak that comes out of me.

I would be lying if I said I have ever been kissed like this
before. Sure there were a few chaste kisses from suitors when I was a young
girl at the middle school dances, but this is a kiss that has me thinking about
a soft bed and candles lit. Mason finally pulls away from me, and we’re both
breathless. He has a twinkle in his eyes that tells me he enjoyed the kiss as
much as I did.

“I’ll see you tomorrow?” He asks. Part of me feels like this
might be moving a little too soon, but then again we’ve known each other almost
a month. We spent every day together for the past three weeks, and I don’t want
to change that habit.

“What’re you doing for lunch?” I ask him in a whisper.

“Emily, are you sure Laura and Jim will be comfortable with
me being here while they’re not?” I feel a tug at the corner of my lip, and he
leans down to kiss the smile right off my face.

“I’ll text you, let you know if you’re coming over for lunch
or dinner tomorrow.” He nods, and just like that he’s walking out the door. I
feel a pang of longing when I see him slip into his car, but he turns to wave at
me once before he drives off. Laura clears her throat behind me, and I have to
force myself to turn around.

“While he’s a handsome boy and seems nice, I still think
that you should be careful, Emily.” I make a quick promise to heed her warning,
and then I make my way up the steps to my lonely bedroom.

Mason

I tap the ‘end call’ button on my cellphone’s touchscreen
display with relief flooding me. While the interior of the house needs a lot of
work, the wiring and the plumbing all seems to be in working condition. The
well water also seems fine, so it’s safe. It turns out the breaker switch was
just turned off. I just need to get all the utilities in my own name rather
than my father’s, and then I’ll be set.

It’s just after four in the afternoon, so I decide to call Emily
up to let her know the good news. I’ve seen her every day but today this week.
And each time our goodnight kiss is a little more heated than last. Now that
her secret about her mother is out in the open, it’s like we’re moving forward
and trying to make up for lost time.

Two more weeks
, I tell myself silently as I wait for
her to pick up the phone.

“Hi,” just that one word makes me smile when she picks up
the phone. It’s not the word probably, but the way she says it. It’s like she
reserves that tone just for me, and I pray that no one else will be the
recipient of it.

“Hey, I just got off the phone with the inspector.” I wait a
heartbeat and hear her inhale on the other end of the line. “He says while the
interior is a complete mess, the wiring and the plumbing all seem to be intact.
So we have the go ahead to renovate.” I finally hear her exhale.

“Oh, that’s great! So you’re not working tomorrow, right? We
could stop by the hardware store and pick up what we know we need, and then
we’ll make a list while we’re at the house. I can get started on cleaning
everything up and seeing if some of its salvageable. And then we’ll get started
on some of the bigger projects on Sunday! I Have another week until I graduate,
and then we can work on it during the evenings…” I tune out at that point and
try to get her attention by saying her name. It takes me three times to get her
to stop rambling on about how she’s going to help me with my new home.

“Emily, listen I was hoping maybe I could swing by and pick
you up for a celebratory dinner. We can discuss all the painting, new trim, and
flooring that you want to look at tonight.” I can almost see her smiling, and
can’t help the Cheshire grin that overtakes my face.

“Oh, alright. Yeah I’ll be ready by the time you get here.
Where are we going?” I’m standing on the steps of the rescue center, and Jesse
chooses that moment to walk out the doors. She raises her nose in the air at
me, and saunters up to Taylor standing by his new Corvette. I’d rather earn
something like that then take the money from my father to purchase it.

“Leave that to me, I’ll be there in half an hour.” We don’t
bother saying goodbye. They’re always awkward for both of us, and I think it
brings up bad memories for Emily. I pull my keys from my pocket and glance down
at my shirt and pants. I should have enough time to swing by the house, change,
and pick Emily up.

Taylor gives me an ugly look as I slide into my Camaro, and
I feel like giving him the finger. The man obviously hasn’t given up on seeing
Emily, even though he’s the one who got her banned. Jesse seems oblivious to
this. I don’t feel bad for either one of them. They’ve made their own beds and
can lie in them. I’m going to go pick up one of the most beautiful girls I’ve
ever seen and take her to the diner in town. She doesn’t seem to mind cheap
dates. I’m saving up money for the big date. Her birthday is in two weeks.

My ride home is pretty uneventful. I do have one text from
my father stating that Baby is still curled up in my room asleep. If I leave
her with one of my t-shirts, the separation anxiety doesn’t seem as bad. I make
sure to pat her on the head and tell her what a good dog she is for not chewing
my bedpost today. She heads out for a quick bathroom break, and then I leave
her sitting next my father in front of the television.

“Don’t feed her anymore leftovers. I’m going to have to get
her an enema if you do.” My father snorts as if I’m joking, but I give him a
serious look.

“Alright, fine. I guess it’s that nasty crap from the fridge
that you’re getting tonight.” The eye roll is inevitable, and before my father
can say anything about me being the mean owner I book it out the door.

As I pull up to Emily’s curb, she’s standing in the evening
rays of sunshine. Her hair looks almost like it’s on fire, which distracts me
for a microsecond from the fact that she’s not wearing jeans today. Every time
I’ve seen Emily, she’s wearing a pair of jeans and some sort of t-shirt. I’ll
have to take her out to dinner without telling her where we’re going more
often.

It’s a seasonably warm, spring evening. As she descends the
stairs, the small sundress she’s wearing clings to her legs. I sincerely hope
I’m not drooling by the time she slides into the passenger seat of the Camaro.
Strike one against me. I should have gotten the door for her, but I was too
mesmerized by the sway of her hips and the shape of her body under the fabric.

“Are we going to eat?” It’s not until she speaks that I
realize I’m staring at her. I’m specifically staring at the way she’s pulled
her hair up into a ponytail with pieces hanging around her face.

“Yeah,” I tell her quietly as I reach a hand across to touch
her face. It’s a feather light touch, but Emily’s cheeks flush anyway. The feel
of her soft skin against my knuckles has me smiling. Then I pull my hand away
and try to remember where I was taking her.

“So did the inspector say he was giving you a list of what
needs to be done?” Emily doesn’t waste any time jumping into the conversation.
I can’t help but grin because a week ago she would have let me start off the
conversation. She’s quickly becoming less shy around me.

“Yeah, he’s going to leave a copy of the inspection report
in the mailbox. Hopefully it actually stays in there, considering its
condition.” There are some trees still in people’s yards from last weekend’s
storm. I can’t say I wish it hadn’t come through.

This time when I pull up into the parking space at the
diner, I make sure to get out of the vehicle quickly and get the door for
Emily. She gives me a rueful smile for my effort and manages to get to the
diner’s door before me. In retaliation, I keep a hand on the small of her back
as we’re led to our seat.

“So how is Noah doing?” And that sparks the conversation
about finding three ferrets in the waiting area. Emily is passionate about her
frustration with people leaving their animals behind, especially when it’s
during a storm. She’s not off the subject until we finally get our meals, crab
cakes for her and another burger for me.