Page 31 of Fixing Emilee

“Yeah. I broke down, telling my mom everything. She helped me see what Vanessa said wasn’t the truth. Those people hate me because of me, not you. She also reminded me of all the things you did for me. You were always there for me when no one else was. She reminded me of how much unconditional love you had for me.” A sob tears from him, causing his whole body to shake.

“I get that you were hurting, Christian, and I understand the feeling of everything being ripped away from you, believe me. What I don’t understand is how you could hurt me. Me, Christian, the one person who has never judged you or made you feel like you’re different. I loved you. None of that makes sense to me. You hurt me to the point where I stopped believing I had a right to live. Do you not understand that? You made me hate myself so much that I…” I stifle a sob as tears stream down my face.

A throat clears, and we turn to Parker’s aunt, who I forgot was even here. “If you don’t mind, I would like to put my two cents in.” We all just nod our heads and wait for her to continue. “You guys are teenagers, and when you’re as young as you are now, your emotions rule you. You are constantly on this emotional rollercoaster and not mature enough to understand everything you feel.” I feel Parker go stiff at her words, and I know what he’s thinking. Maybe we aren’t mature enough to understand our feelings for each other. That we are, in fact, mistaking lust for love. My heart aches for a whole different reason now.

Luna also knows what he’s thinking because she snaps her fingers at him to get his attention. “Hey.” I look behind me and watch Parker look up, meeting her stare. “You, my son, have always been mature for your age. Do not take what I’m saying the wrong way. The feelings you have for that girl in your arms are true and very valid.” She looks to Christian. “You were hurting, and your thought was to lash out at the one person closest to you: Emilee. Yes, Vanessa was manipulating you, but you thought Emilee loved you enough that you could hurt her, and she would stay.”

She stops, giving Christian time to think about what she said. When he finally nods his head, she continues. “The problem with that is, Vanessa had ulterior motives. I don’t know, nor are we likely to ever know, but I can bet you that she had an alternative motive for hurting Emilee. You were a pawn in her game, but that doesn’t matter. In the end, you guys pushed Emilee too far. Plus, she wasn’t as strong or mature enough to see what you were doing. She saw the one person she trusted the most in this world turning against her. She had no clue why the person she loved was hurting her. If you add that to her emotions going crazy thanks to my lovely son and her family, she was in a bad place.”

Looking around the room, there’s not a dry eye, including Luna’s. “When you guys get older, you will understand everything I’m saying, but I think you are at a great place right now.”

“You do?” I ask.

“How are they in a good place, Mom?” Parker sounds just as confused as I am.

“Yes. Christian has realized that how he dealt with his hurt was not the healthiest. He has tried to correct his mistakes through his actions tonight. He chose to be the bigger person when you questioned him, son. Christian gave you all the information you needed, even though that meant he would face the consequences of his actions. It takes a big person to admit when they have done something wrong. I have a feeling that he will take this life lesson and run with it. He will find a way to use this time to help others. Just like Emilee is learning, her self-worth is not defined by what others think of her but by what she thinks of herself. What you two need to figure out, but not right this second, is how to move forward and whether or not you will be in each other’s lives.” I guess she’s finally finished because she sits back, resting her arms on the back of the chair.

No one says anything. We are all too lost in thought over that life bomb she just dropped on us. Christian is the first one to speak up. Turning to look at me, he says, “I’m so sorry, Emilee. I will never be able to find the words needed to tell you how sorry I really am. Can you forgive me?”

I’ve been telling everyone the truth when they ask me this question, so I don’t stop now. “It’s going to take time, Christian. What you guys did hurt me more than I can ever express. You broke my self-esteem but, more importantly, my trust in others and myself. To be honest, I don’t think we can ever get back to what we had in the past, but maybe, with time and work, we can get to, I don’t know, something.” His face falls slightly with my response, but I owe it to myself to be as honest as possible.

“I don’t hate you or want to see you hurting. Even when everything was happening, I never wished anything negative on you. I just wanted it to stop. Do you promise that you won’t do anything…”

I can’t finish my sentence before he replies, “God, yes, Lee. I haven’t had a hand in anything since the papers at school.”

“I believe you. So, a clean slate with the possibility of becoming something in the future. But for now, we both just focus on ourselves and find a way to heal from everything?” I ask, holding my hand out for him to shake.

“It’s not what I want. I want us to be friends again, but I understand you need time, and I need to prove that you can trust me again. So yes,” he says, shaking my hand.

The ringing of a phone interrupts us. Everyone looks around, trying to figure out whose phone it is. Levi pulls his phone from his pocket, and the ringtone gets louder. He looks up, meeting my gaze while he brings it to his ear.

“Hey, Dad.”

Knowing that we have to go home and have a conversation I really don’t want to have, I stand up, pulling Parker with me.

“Yes, sir. We are headed home now. Yes, Emilee is okay. All right, love you too.” He puts his phone back in his pocket, holding his hand out to Tiffani.

“Guess it’s time to face this,” I say, trying to defuse the tension filling the room. Everyone is staring back at me with unimpressed looks on their faces. Pulling my jacket tighter against me, I don’t look back at Christian and my past, but I straighten my shoulders and walk out the door.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The first and only time I told this story, my stomach was full of Jack Daniels. This time, I’m stone-cold sober, and I would give anything to not be sitting around the table with everyone staring at me. Mom, Dad, Adam, Carly, Levi, Tiffani, and of course, my rock, Parker. Seven pairs of eyes staring at me, waiting for me to explain what the fuck they heard tonight. The urge to run, hide, lie, and tell them it was all a made-up story is strong, but I know this is the last piece.

The final part of the puzzle of how I became so broken, and the one wound that I have to fix to be whole again. Shutting my eyes, I block out everything around me, focusing on the sound of Parker breathing next to me. I zero in on the warmth of his hand inside mine, letting it spread like a fire through me. I match my breathing to his, and when I open my eyes, I’m calm and stronger, but mentally I’m not here. I’m eleven and standing in the middle of the small bedroom I called home for two years.

* * *

11-Year-Old Emilee

Mom has worked at the local nursing home for a couple of months. It’s the longest job she has ever held down, so even though I hate being alone in the afternoons, I won’t complain. At least when she has a job, I don’t worry too much about being homeless again or going without food. Complaining wouldn’t do me any good anyway. Any time I did, she quickly reminded me that if she didn’t have me, she wouldn’t have to work in the first place. Which I find odd because she had no problem leaving my brothers with my grandparents but refused to let me stay. All she says is, “It’s for your own good. They don’t want you. I’m the only one who wants you.”

Our front door has always been a revolving door for men that she finds in all kinds of places. I don’t bother to learn their names and try to stay out of the way. Mostly the men leave me alone as long as I don’t get in their way, try to take my mom’s time from them, or expect anything from them. I never had a reason to feel uncomfortable around them before or worry that I wasn’t safe. They treated me as if I didn’t exist, and I was fine with that. Until Kevin came into the picture.

Everything about Kevin set me on edge from the moment I met him: the sound of his voice, the way he dressed. The first time he walked through our front door, my skin felt like millions of tiny ants were crawling all over me. I’m not sure how he met my mom, and honestly, I don’t care. He showed up almost a year ago, claiming he would help fix everything. Even though being around him made me uncomfortable, he was nice to me, and it was a nice change. He didn’t just ignore me like the rest. If he brought something to the house for Mom, he always made sure he had something for me as well. I was young, and my mom wasn’t affectionate, so I ate his attention up.

That all changed quickly. The words spoken to my mom with so much adoration was soon screamed with venom dripping from them. The walls were thin, so I would lay in bed and listen to his fist or belt beat my mom. He wasn’t the first guy to hit her, and I doubted he would be the last. I constantly hoped I never felt his rage like that. The nice things stopped being bought; instead, it was all thrown in our faces. The tv we had was because of him. The new microwave? Well, we better be nice to him because he got us that. The only thing that stayed the same was that he didn’t ignore me, but I started to wish he did.

No matter where I went in the house, I could feel his eyes following me. It wasn’t the feeling of a parent’s gaze following you to ensure you were safe or not getting into trouble. It was what I was sure prey felt when a lion was stalking them. The glances and little remarks on how I was becoming a beautiful young woman started three months before my twelfth birthday. By this time, I was already developing. I wore loose-fitting clothes to avoid attracting attention to my ever-changing body. No matter how baggy my clothes were, his gaze was constantly on me.

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