Page 22 of Engulfing Emma

I point to my laptop on the nightstand. “I’m not just lying here. I’ve started working on my online class.”

“You know what I mean. You have to get out of this funk.”

I throw the covers off my face. “You stayed in bed for an entire month after Dad died.”

She gives me a stern look, and I immediately feel guilty. “It’s not the same, and you know it. Nobody died three days ago, Emma. You should be celebrating the fact that you’re alive. Have you even talked to Evelyn?”

I turn over and hug my pillow. “She doesn’t want to talk to her mom when she’s got better things to do at camp. I texted her goodnight, see?”

I shove my new phone at her—the phoneshewent out and got me—so she can read the last few texts I sent Evelyn and the ones she sent back. They’re all the same.

Me: Goodnight, baby. I love you and miss you.

Evelyn: Night, Mom. Love you back.

“You haven’t told her yet?” she asks.

“Of course not. She would freak out. I will tell her, because I’m sure her friends at home will talk about it when she gets back. But I’m not saying anything when she’s a hundred miles away and I’m not there to show her I’m okay.”

“But you’renotokay. You don’t give her enough credit. My granddaughter is stronger than you think. She’s just like her mother—which is why you need to set a good example and get out of bed.”

“Set a good example for whom? She’s not here.”

She turns her back on me and walks out. “I’m not bringing you anything today, honey. If you can’t get out of bed, maybe you should call a therapist.”

“I’m not calling a therapist.”

“Right,” she says from the top of the stairs. “Because clearly you’ve got this.”

I hear her gather her things and walk out the front door.

After a moment, I sit up and look at the window, the curtains barely shading the afternoon light. I stand and pad my way over, approaching slowly. Stepping to one side, I push the curtain back.

“I can do this.”

Taking a deep breath, I stand in front of the window, proving to myself that nothing bad will happen.

I have ten days until Evelyn comes home. Mom’s right. She can’t see me like this—scared to go outside. Scared of the world.

Everything turned out okay. Carter lived. Although despite Brett’s best attempts, I heard he ended up losing his leg. But he’s alive and he has his whole life ahead of him.

Brett Cash.

His name rolls around in my head.

I’ll bet he’s not holed up in his room, hiding under his covers. He saved Carter. Heck, he may have saved all of us. He’s a hero. I should thank him. Maybe one day I will. I look out the window again, then shut the curtains and crawl back into bed.

But not today.

~ ~ ~

I stand at the front door, frozen. It’s just a door, I tell myself. I’ve gone through it a thousand times. But not once in the last four days.

Just do it, Emma. Walk up to it. Open it. Walk through. Close it. Easy peasy.

I wrap my fingers around the door handle.

I let go and back up, falling into the chair in the foyer.

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