Page 143 of Engulfing Emma

Bria and I make our way through thousands of people. I used to think people would stop coming to the memorial after so much time has passed, but today I feel the opposite is true.

I never bring Leo with me, especially not on the actual anniversary. I take him to Mom’s grave sometimes, but I’ll wait until he’s much older to bring him here. All the names engraved on the parapets. The distraught people. It can be confusing for a child.

After the ceremony, Bria and I make our usual trip to the south memorial and find Mom’s name. Her name is listed with her coworkers, who also ran inside to help. We see the familiar faces of the friends and family of those coworkers, who come every year to pay their respects.

“Where are you going?” Bria asks, when I start to walk in the opposite direction.

“I want to find another name this year.”

She nods and follows me in silence.

I know exactly where to look. Like my mom, Emma’s dad died in the south tower. I researched where his name was engraved. It’s around the corner from Mom’s. I find his name and run my hand across it.

William Abernathy Lockhart, Jr.

Bria puts a hand on my shoulder. “How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”

“Since I’ve seen her or since she dumped me?”

Her face fills with compassion. “Maybe she just needs time.”

“You didn’t see her face when she walked out on me, Bria. She’s done with me. Look around. We’re surrounded by people who’ve lost a loved one. She’s tired of being one of these people. Maybe I can’t blame her.”

“Well,Iblame her,” she says. “She broke your heart. You weren’t even this sad when Amanda left you, and you guys were together for almost a decade.”

She’s right. I think with Amanda, I was angry more than I was sad. Angry at her for not loving Leo. Angry at her for putting her job before her family. But sad? I guess I must have been, but it was nothing like this. Nothing like my heart actually hurting like it has a hole in it and is missing a piece. Two pieces actually. Sometimes I find myself missing Evie almost as much as I miss Emma.

Evie and I still text each other, but it’s not the same. It’s nowhere near the same.

After Bria leaves to go to rehearsal, I attend the annual 9/11 FDNY luncheon and wonder if Emma is here. I’m not holding out much hope, however. If she won’t go to the memorial, she probably won’t come here.

I don’t see her, but I do see two other familiar faces. Evie runs over and gives me a hug.

“Hey, squirt. Long time no see.”

“Too long,” she says.

I nod to her grandmother. “Hi, Enid.”

I know Emma’s not here, but I look behind the two of them just in case.

As if reading my mind, Enid says, “She never comes to these things.”

“I know. I was just hoping …” I run a hand through my hair. “How is she?”

“Immersed in work.”

“But she misses you,” Evie says with a sad smile. “I know she does.”

This is nothing new. Evie tells me similar things when we text.

“I’ve always taken pride in how smart my daughter is,” Enid says. “I’m sorry to say this is not one of those times.”

I’m surrounded by people who have lost someone. Even all these years later, the memory of that day is still raw. “I didn’t really get it until today,” I say. “Being here, and earlier, at the ceremony, I’m beginning to understand how she wants to distance herself from the possibility of history repeating itself.”

Enid shakes her head. “Fear is no reason to forgo happiness.”

“I agree, but fear is often irrational.”

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