Crushing Emeralds

Chapter Two

Marching directly to the sweet escape of my room, I find my curtains open indicating that my mother thinks sunlight does the body good. I stand at the foot of my bed, blank of emotion, blank of thought, somewhat hollow for some reason. I don’t know why I’m acting like this over a boy I just met; I knew Evan my whole life.

It is true that Blake is easy on the eyes with his thick dark brown hair, striking gray eyes, and his spectacular body. I shake my head to force my concentration to go elsewhere. Maybe I needed to lighten up on Evan our families do have history together.

Twenty years ago, my parents moved here from North Carolina and met their new next-door neighbors, which were Evan’s parents. They were instantly friends. They had parties and celebrated certain holidays together. They were ecstatic when they found out that they were both pregnant at the same time.

It’s just that maybe Evan expects that since we were kind of forced on each other as babies to kids to teenagers that we would be together forever with a possibility of children of our own. However, maybe one day I want to stray away from that idea. Between being forced into a family planned marriage, let’s face it sooner or later if not already it’s likely to be drilled into our heads.

Not to mention Flourish’s future raining on my parade. I didn’t need to think or go to college to know how my life would turn out. Maybe that is why I am so hung up on Blake; he’s like a wild card. “What am I thinking? I need to get back on track.” I say aloud to myself.

My book bag is already packed; all I have to do is transfer my purchases from the Tech Shop into a reusable bag. Nonetheless, with one quick glance around my room and a recap of my entering the house, my bag Isn’t here…it’s still in Evan’s backseat. There’s no way I’m going to try to sneak the bag out or go crawling over to Evan’s asking for it, so I’ll have to wait until tomorrow.

I stream one of my favorite songs through Spotify. Nothing helps calm the nerves like music that speaks to the soul. I hum along to the lyrics as I bring up Google. Curiosity kills the cat, but this cat doesn’t care. I type in Blake’s name, but have no luck in finding anything that points to the boy I met earlier. f******k , **, Twitter I check all of them because I need to see if I can find anything out about him. The investigator in me needs to know...plus, Kordie will be all over me for details. I am never unprepared.

An anxious excitement comes over me at the prospect of digging for juicy details, but my good mood turns slightly sour. He’s already requested to be my friend, no need to dig, all the info I need is being handed to me.

He blocks all information about himself unless you’re his friend; I hit the accept button without really thinking and I go immediately to his page. His gray eyes stare at me from his profile picture. There is no doubt that this is the boy that I met at the mall. The smile on my face fades away as I see he only has thirty friends none of whom I know.

“He just wants to keep his page personal,” I lift an eyebrow as the thought comes without me wanting it to, “Then what about me.” I say contradicting my not so logical explanation.

With a look at his personal information, I find out that he’s from Nebraska, nineteen years old, an only child and his last post was from two days ago when he said he was visiting Wisconsin for a few weeks. Why anybody would want to visit Wisconsin is shocking to me. I can’t wait till I can leave this state for a better one, preferably one with only one season, and that’s summer.

Calling all the strength I have built up inside me to leave his page is pointless. All I can do is stare at his name; Blake Ashton. When I’m finally able to pry myself from his page I go to Kordie’s instead to see if she got home yet. There was a post from her cell phone two minutes ago saying she can’t decide between vixen or jezebel, like there is a difference.

I hop over to Evan’s page to find his status as ‘confused’, really what’s he confused about, being a jerk or an over sensitive macho man. My loud ringtone suddenly fills the room startling me. Picking it up to examine the picture displayed, I breathe in a sigh of relief when a large purple flower is pictured.

“Hello, mom how’s work?” I ask.

“Just great. I wanted to remind you that there’s lunch in the fridge and I will bring home supper. I have to go, love you Emerald.”

“Love you too, mom.” I say even though I know she already hung up. One of her quickest phone calls ever.

With no idea when she is actually going to get home, I make whatever surprise she left me for lunch. Refusing to go back to my room and have that feeling of being watched due to Evan probably lingering in front of his bedroom window staring down my house, I plop down on the living room couch and watch some meaningless television.

My mother doesn’t show up until six, she enters the house with a loud thump as she drops her purse on the table and kicks her shoes off. “Emerald, I have food.” She yells as if it were the dinner bell.

“I’m in the living room with our favorite show on.”

Before she joins we in the living room she stops in the kitchen. She tries to hide the bottle of wine. She drops a brown paper bag from our favorite diner on the table and falls onto the couch beside me. With both of our feet propped up on the coffee table, we dig in. We stare straight ahead with food stuffed mouths, keep talking to a minimum as our eyes are glued to the TV.

During commercial breaks are the only times we dare talk about our day. She tells me that she has eight new orders that have to be done between one to two weeks and would like my help this weekend. I accept as if I have a choice and tell her what I got at the store, but decide to keep my little fight with Evan a secret along with Blake.

A little over an hour later I decide to leave her on the couch, “I’m exhausted. I’m going to take a bath and go to bed to be bright eyed tomorrow. Goodnight mom, I love you.”

She takes my hand, “Goodnight Emerald, I love you too.”

“Mom…” I say looking back at her as I reach the staircase.

She keeps staring at the TV, “I know honey, go to bed.”

Depressingly, I start my hike up the stairs. I worry about her every evening; she hasn’t really been herself since we lost my father. We don’t talk about the accident that killed him but my mother can’t seem to let go. A full glass of wine accompanies her to the rest of the evening.

The story plays in my head over and over again as if it just happened yesterday. One night a teenager decides that he wants to start a fire in an abandoned warehouse and more than one life changes. By the time the fire crew gets there with sixteen fire fighters on board it’s too late to control it, but with screams coming from inside my father wants to be a hero. With a fellow fire fighter following behind him to help, the building collapses minutes after they enter. It burns brighter and more aggressive for ten minutes before they can put the blaze out.

They enter the debris to find my father, Andy the other fire fighter, and two unidentified bodies lifeless. The arsonist as he was labeled got sentenced to only thirty years, and my mother and I along with Andy’s family got sentenced to a life without a husband and a father. The idea of me leaving home to some far away college doesn’t help my mother cope any better.

I let the hurtful memories fade away as I sink down into the warm bath water. Soaking away the misery and depression that hangs over my head with the belief that it will never go away, I close my eyes. Breathe in…breathe out, for tomorrow I have to face a whole slew of people, half of which I could really care less about.