Waking Up With You (9 page)

In fairness, though, I sometimes think of what transpired as a kind of wake-up call. I am slowly adjusting the way I view Jake. I am conditioning myself to think of him as merely my housemate and friend. That way, we will stay friends even after we go our separate ways.

I pour all my energy into my work. I do a back-and-forth with Dan regarding the new strategy for social media. I spend the mornings monitoring the competition, and the afternoons tweeting and updating the firm’s profile accounts. I’m preparing a press release for the opening of the OC Museum two months from now. I actually feel exhilarated that I’m doing something worthwhile as I wait for school to start.

Paige is coming back tomorrow, so I’m glad that I’m seeing her again. For some reason, the family has cut their vacation short, but she’s not saying why in her emails and text messages. She seems to be distracted and not at all like her usual cheerful self. Her messages are perfunctory, like she’s in no mood to talk. I’m puzzled, but I know she’ll tell me about it soon enough.

Nighttime is the worst for me. I literally toss and turn, unable to get a good night’s sleep. Sometimes I want to go to the garden for a bit of fresh air, but I can’t go out for fear that I might come across Jake. The good news is that I don’t have those eerie dreams. The bad news is that I don’t sleep well at all. After three or four hours of intermittent sleep, I am up and about, reading, surfing the internet, or just conjuring all sorts of scenarios in my head. It’s at these times when I’m most vulnerable, and I order myself, like a crazy person, to stop thinking about him.

Sometimes, I lie in the dark, remembering the past when Charlie was still alive and my life was simple and carefree. Jake would often drop by so the two of them could hang out. There was this one time when he had just come from a tour of Italy, and he came straight to our house from the airport. He’d gotten Charlie an extravagantly expensive leather jacket from Milan. Because he knew I was turning eighteen, he brought me a special gift — small diamond-cut loop earrings from Florence. For a moment, I just stood there with my gaping jaw, and then I ran to hug him tightly. After a quick hug back, I saw the strangest look on his face. No doubt I had made things awkward with my over-the-top reaction. But Jake’s always been that way. Generous to a fault and uncomfortable with appreciation.

The memories can only provide a short reprieve from my dark thoughts because, after a while, the sadness takes over when I start recalling the onset of my brother’s decline. You know what they say about life being too short? It’s true. In the blink of an eye, I lost the most selfless, giving brother a girl could ever ask for.

Then, of course, I dwell on how his death led to my present state of affairs, and my dejection surges.

On this particular night, I’m reading a long technical report on social analytics. It’s two in the morning and I am exhausted, but still unable to sleep. The warm bath and hot milk do nothing for me. I actually entertain the thought of going to the 24-hour pharmacy to get some over–the-counter sleep medication, but I don’t follow through because I’m afraid I may become drug dependent, little as I’m sleeping.

I’m reading the same chapter over and over again, but my mind is far, far away. I throw the report on my desk in disgust. I’m sick of reading and I’ve had enough of the internet, so I decide to reorganize my things. It’s not that I have a lot of stuff, because I don’t. But I’m obsessive-compulsive about arranging everything. However, I haven’t had the heart to go through the box that came from the storage unit. There are things from our childhood that I don’t ever want to part with so I put them in that box. Tonight, I might as well store the items on the shelves. I mean, my walk-in closet is the size of my old room, so why not use the space?

I open the box, and the first thing I see are two big old photo albums. I make a mental note to look at the pictures some other time. There’s a smaller box filled with assorted souvenirs. I see a seashell from a trip to Martha’s Vineyard. There’s a ticket from Charlie’s high school choir performance. A magnet from the Winchester House. I smile as I rifle through the items. I tear up when I see that, over on the side, is a baby’s blanket in tissue paper. My brother and I both used that blanket when we were babies. It’s still beautifully preserved. Then, something catches my eye and I start to cry uncontrollably. It’s a tattered dark brown bear with a blue ribbon around its neck.

“Caramel,” I whisper as I embrace it like a long lost friend.

I have no recollection of this, of course, but I know through family stories that, for my first birthday, as expected, Jake was invited to the party. The first thing he did was run to me and greet me a happy birthday. As he handed over his prized teddy bear, my eyes grew round and I held onto it all throughout the day. He had no money to buy a present, so he entrusted me with his beloved toy.

I take Caramel to bed and, just like when I was a child, I tell him my innermost secrets. I
am too tired of being an adult
. After some time, I finally sleep soundly, like a baby.

I get a call from Paige. They’re back, and I immediately drive off to see her. I see her in the garden, cutting roses with her trusty pruning shears. My cooking is kind of like Paige’s flower arranging. She relaxes by making dramatic table centerpieces with her own freshly-picked flowers. I give her an ‘I-missed-you-so-much’ hug, so much so that she instantly knows something’s up.

“Are you gonna tell me or do I have to beat it out of you?” she promptly asks.

“Let’s talk about you first. Why did you come back so early?” She sighs worriedly. “What’s going on, Paige?” I ask, alarmed by her body language.

“It’s Dad. We were having breakfast yesterday when he said he was dizzy. He lost his balance and fell to the ground.”

“Oh my God! Where is he now? Why aren’t you with him?” I start my barrage of questions.

“Stop it, Em! You’re making me more nervous than I already am,” she pleads with me. “Mom is with him at Saint Joseph’s. He insisted on coming back because he knows the doctors and staff here. They’re running a battery of tests, so he’ll be confined for the next couple of days. I had to get out of there.” She starts to cry and I move closer to embrace her.

“He’s never been sick! I mean, except for the occasional cold. So when I saw him on the floor I…” Obviously distraught, she can’t continue talking.

“Paige, he’s gonna be okay. Don’t start freaking out until you have all the facts,” I do my best to calm her down.

“Oh, c’mon, you know I’m Type A. I was up all night, researching the possibilities. The more I read, the more scared I got.” She grips my hand tightly and her knuckles are going white.

“Paige, let’s go have a seat,” I tell her as I hold her back and slowly guide her to the antique bronze finished bistro chairs.

We say nothing for a couple of minutes. Then, Paige grabs my hand. “Emma, Dad will be okay, right?” she asks for reassurance.

I don’t know if I should respond, but she seems content with the heavy squeeze I give her hand.

She lets out a quick breath and then says, “Enough about me. I don’t want to talk about Dad’s condition anymore until I have more substantial information from the doctors.” She pauses and asks, “I was just gone a couple of days, but you seem to be carrying the weight of the world on your shoulders. What happened?”

“It’s that obvious?” I ask dryly.

“Yes. Is Jake treating you badly?” Her eagle eyes don’t miss a thing.

“Why don’t you ask if I’m treating him badly?”

“Because that’s impossible,” she says flatly. “You’ve had a giant crush on the man since we were sixteen years old. You insisted on marrying him even though I warned you it’s a terrible idea. Seriously, what else can cause the pain I see in your eyes?”

“He’s not a bad man,” I say defensively.

“I didn’t say he was bad. I said he’s treating you badly. The action, not the person,” she says in teacher-like fashion.

“I don’t even know where to begin.”

“How about the beginning?”

“Jake was waiting for me when I got home that night we went shopping at The Grove. After getting our dinner at the In N Out drive-thru, I thought of bringing him to Mulholland Drive.” I see her grinning like the Cheshire Cat. “What?” I scowl.

“Classic,” she says sarcastically.

“I swear I just wanted him to admire the view.”

“Sure you did,” she agrees mockingly.

“Paige, stop thinking what you’re thinking.”

“What exactly am I thinking?” she challenges me.

“No!” I scream.

“C’mon, just admit it. You wanted to make out with him.”

“That’s kind of what he said to me. We started to kiss and then he broke it off suddenly. He was very agitated, asking me if that’s where I go with my boyfriends to make out.” I stop. I don’t feel like telling Paige the rest of the story.

“He’s jealous!” she immediately says.

“No. That doesn’t even make any sense. If I had done that, it would have been in the past, so there’s nothing to be jealous about. I think you’ll get it when I tell you the rest of the story.”

“Listening,” she says impatiently.

“I just told him that I didn’t have any hidden agenda. He apologized and that was that,” I finish abruptly.

“Okay, what?”

She looks like she wants to throw something at me, so I quickly talk again. “We came up with some rules so that it doesn’t happen again.”

“You mean the kissing?” she asks, and I nod.

“Rule number one —We don’t tell anyone we’re married so that nobody thinks of us as a couple and starts inviting us, blah blah.”

“Again, what?” Paige looks astonished at what I’m saying.

“Rule number two— try not to be alone together except when we’re home at the same time. Which brings us to rule number three – no touching except quick hugs, handshakes…you know,” I say lamely.

Paige starts to laugh so hard that she has to hold her side.

“What are you laughing about? This is a serious matter,” I half-scold her.

“The two of you are such idiots. You not so much, but Jake –I’m surprised he even agreed to this stupid pact.”

“Why is it stupid?” I scowl.

“Because you’re married. First the kissing and then second base, and then you know what’s next. Why doesn’t he just take you to bed and be done with it? I thought men were the aggressors.”

“You wanna know why he was being weird about it? Because he has a freaking girlfriend.” I finally have the satisfaction of seeing her jaw drop.

“Who? How did you find out?” She clearly wants all the details.

“Because, when Matt dropped by, Jake went berserk and practically called me a harlot.”

“Backtrack… Who the hell is Matt?”

“See, after that incident, his HR guy at the office, Matt, came to have me sign some documents. Apparently, he asked Jake informally if it was okay to ask me out, or something like that.”

“Why would the idiot ask your husband and his boss a question like that? Does he want to die?” Paige is enjoying the story, but she hasn’t heard everything yet.

“Focus, Paige. I told him that I was just a friend of Jake’s, and Jake was just being nice, letting me stay in his million-dollar home until I get back on my feet. Remember, rule number one?”

“Oh. So Jake never told him about your relationship?”

“I suppose not. I don’t know if he forgot or was just following the rules. I had to make up the story fast.”

There’s a troubled frown on her face. “So, Jake thinks you’re hitting on men and that you sleep around?”

“Exactly,” I respond. “He’s not being jealous. He’s just afraid that my whoring will destroy his reputation eventually.”

She sighs. “In fairness, he does have a point.”

“But I’m not whoring around,” I say adamantly.

“Of course you’re not. You and I know that. But, you have to admit that, given the circumstances, it’s entirely logical for him to think that way,” she says in his defense.

“Whatever.” I’m kind of peeved now that Paige seems to be taking Jake’s side. She continues, “This is not at all how I thought the story would end. But, wait, what about the girlfriend? How?”

“Matt mentioned it in passing. He said the office buzz was that they’re practically engaged. I googled her and found dozens of photographs of the two of them. Later on, when I was getting really angry with his accusations, I couldn’t help but call him a hypocrite because he’s sleeping with his girlfriend and he wants me to be careful of his reputation. Yeah, our dynamic hit rock bottom after that, especially after I overheard him talking to her on the phone.”

“You didn’t google him before you got married? That’s almost standard operating procedure when you enter a relationship.” She looks like she’s about to deliver a lecture, and then thinks better of it.

“I’ve known the man since I was a baby. Why would I google him? Besides, that’s just creepy,” I say vociferously.

“True that,” she agrees with me. “But if what you say is correct, then Jake is a complete jerk. How dare he jump to the wrong conclusions? Worse, he’s a cheat and a liar,” she delivers in a complete about-face.

“I wouldn’t go that far. We both knew it was going to be a marriage of convenience. He never said he would be faithful to me. I mean, he’s a man. He has needs. The two of them were practically engaged before I came into the picture. Actually, I do feel sorry for Christina – that’s her name, Christina Sawyer. She had to make a sacrifice so he could honor his word to my brother. God, Paige, now that I really think about it, I realize that so many people’s lives were affected by this arrangement.” I bow my head and look down on the ground.

Paige stands up and comes to me. She touches my shoulder lightly and says, “Look, you can’t go back in time. Just fix this. You are my friend. You’re the one I worry about. Jake wouldn’t have said yes to Charlie if he knew he couldn’t handle it. As for Christina, you don’t know. Maybe Jake promised her their relationship wouldn’t change. Maybe she’s the career type and she’s not looking for commitment. I don’t know.
We
don’t know. But, you, I can read you like an open book. You have unresolved feelings for Jake. I don’t know how deep they are.” She looks at me for validation but I say nothing.