Authors: Rebecca Donovan
"I couldn't carry you," I choked, my lower lip quivering. "I didn't know what else to do. I'm sorry."
"I can't believe you," she seethed, shaking her head, infuriated. "I can't believe you."
She turned her back to me. My heart beat erratically with the suffocating fear that I had finally made her not want me. I ran up the stairs and blurted desperately, "I won't talk to him anymore, I promise. But please don't be mad at me. I never meant to hurt you, I swear. I won't ever talk to him again, just don't be mad." I bit my lower lip and my vision blurred with tears.
She stopped before entering the bathroom, absorbing my frantic pleas.
"It kills me to see you like you were last night. I don't want to do that to you. Please, don't be mad anymore, please?" My throat ached from holding back the tears. I swallowed hard and waited as she turned around.
Her eyes softened as she took in my tortured face. "Tell him you don't ever want to talk to him again, okay?"
"Okay," I sobbed, a tear rolling down my cheek as the pressure in my chest released. She walked in the bathroom and closed the door. I shut my eyes and took a deep breath, dreading what I was forced to do next.
29. Fatherly Advice
There was no movement in the house when I left to meet Vivian Sunday morning. My mother had pretty much been avoiding me, so I let her.
The guard at the gate checked me off the list, and I continued to drive further down the road that split the golf course in half. I followed the signs to the club house and parked in the lot outside a dark stone building with a wall of windows.
Vivian was in the lobby talking to a group of women dressed for brunch. I was relieved I'd asked Evan what to wear when I spoke with him yesterday afternoon, because I would never have thought to wear a dress to brunch.
"Emily," Vivian smiled brightly, reaching out with her arms to embrace me and kiss me on the cheek. "You look lovely as always."
"Thank you," I replied, draping my jacket over my arm.
She addressed the women who lingered before her, "Ladies, this is Emily Thomas, Evan's girlfriend."
"Of course," one said with a smile. They each carefully looked me over, forming their own opinions of the girl from the headlines.
"Shall we?" Vivian prompted me. "It was so nice to see you all again." We walked past the ladies and into the dining room.
"Perfect timing," she whispered, "I was having difficulty continuing to be polite to that group of shallow human beings." I widened my eyes at her remark and she smirked. It was the first time I recognized Evan in her face. I smiled and followed her to a table by the large windows that overlooked the rolling green course.
"The woman I want to introduce you to is running a bit late," Vivian began after ordering a mimosa for herself and an orange juice for me. "So I thought this would give us time to talk about the other night."
My heart skipped a beat, fearing she was going to tell me that Evan wasn't going to Stanford.
"Stuart is very strong-willed. Evan shares the same spirit. So when they have opposing opinions, they will never reach a resolution. That's usually when Jared or I intervene, since we tend to be more open-minded and willing to compromise.
"Unfortunately, I'm not certain how to find a common ground over this matter. Stanford is a marvelous school, and I am so proud of Evan for being accepted. However, Stuart has wanted one of his sons to attend Yale since they were born. Jared didn't quite have the grades to be accepted, despite Stuart's efforts. But Evan does.
"Evan is convinced that he didn't get accepted to Yale on his own merit, and Stuart won't admit if he had any influence over the decision. But I do know that I've never seen Stuart so upset, and I'm trying to understand why."
"It's me." I said it so quietly that Vivian had to ask me to repeat myself. "Mr. Mathews doesn't approve of me, and Evan choosing Stanford is him choosing me over his father." I looked out the window, trying to calm the spasm in my chest.
"Why would you ever think that?" Vivian questioned in complete bemusement.
"I overheard him telling Evan that I wasn't his future, the night of the New Year's Eve party," I admitted softly, the words still stinging.
Vivian was quiet. Her face was smooth but her sharp blue eyes moved in contemplation.
"This is not about you," she said firmly. "This is between my husband and my son, and I'm so sorry that you were made to feel you had anything to do with it. Emily, I adore you, and I couldn't think of anything that would make me happier than for you to be my son's future.
"The only reason I was telling you this was to apologize for the tension the other night. I wish you didn't have to witness my husband's silent defiance." She cupped my hands that were clasped so tightly, my knuckles were white. "Please do not worry about this matter. I am quite certain it will work itself out."
"I want to promise you that I will never do anything to hurt Evan, and I will not come between him and his family. I love him, but I would walk away before I'd ever let anything jeopardize his happiness," I vowed passionately.
Vivian smiled adoringly. "I know, dear. That's why I wouldn't want him with anyone else." My heart swelled with her words, and I blinked away the sentiment with a smile. She laughed lightly at our emotional state, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a tissue.
"Oh, there she is," Vivian stood to greet her other guest.
A tall, slender woman with dark skin and big brown eyes approached us. She seemed so refined, in a light blue dress with pearls strung around her neck. I stood with Vivian to be introduced.
"Emily Thomas, I am pleased for you to meet Dr. Michelle Vassar. She is an alum from Stanford University, and was on their women's basketball team."
Dr. Vassar offered her hand, "Nice to meet you, Emily." I smiled and shook it firmly.
When we sat down, Vivian beamed and proceeded to gush about my acceptance to Stanford and my scholarship to play soccer for the university. I'd never had anyone so openly proud of me before, and at that moment I wouldn't have wanted it to be anyone other than Vivian Mathews.
After spending hours talking about Stanford, medical school and Dr. Vassar's professional experiences, I drove to the soccer field feeling lighter and more excited about my future than I had in months, replaying the entire conversation in my head.
I emerged from the bathroom dressed in my soccer gear and spotted Evan standing along the sidelines.
"Hi," I said, coming up behind him.
He spun around at the sound of my voice and his face lit up, making my heart falter. "Hi. How are you feeling?" I was relieved that he was over his skepticism regarding my feigned illness.
"Great! I had a really nice brunch with your mom."
"Good," he returned, pulling me toward him. I wrapped my arms around his chest and held him tight. He gave me a kiss and said, "Good luck in the game."
I grimaced. "Sorry, but I'm probably not playing today. You don't have to stay if you don't want to."
"I'll stay." His arms squeezed tighter around my waist. "Then we can do something after."
After benching me the first half of the game, Coach started me the second half. I had a feeling it had more to do with us being down by one, and he preferred winning to upholding his policies. He announced that since I wasn't sick any longer, I could play. He conveniently didn't mention the two missed practices.
We came back in the second half and won by two. It was a good thing Evan had stayed after all.
"Do you want to follow me back to my house?" Evan asked. "Jared and Sara are there. They want to go bowling with us tonight."
"Bowling?" I questioned dubiously.
"Yeah," Evan chuckled in amusement. "You've never played before, have you?"
I shook my head, making him smile wider. "Yes, I'll follow you," I sighed.
"Emma," Sara laughed, "you already let go of the ball. You can't steer it down the lane like
that
."
I continued to lean to the right, hoping the ball would redirect itself and not veer so far left. My body movements didn't help. I only knocked down two pins.
"Sorry," I frowned. "I suck."
"It's your first time," Jared consoled, trying to keep me positive. "We'll come back. Just try to keep your wrist straight so you don't spin the ball so much. Don't worry. Sara's not all that great either.” He ducked away when Sara swatted at him.
It felt good to laugh. I hadn't done it very much of it lately.
After Evan rolled a spare, Jared stood up and said, "I'll try to take it easy on you, Evan." Evan gave him a mocking smile. "Oh, are you coming to New York this weekend before you take off to Hawaii for April break?"
"I'm not sure," Evan told him, sitting next to me and draping his arm over the back of my orange plastic seat.
"You really can't come with me?" Evan asked me again while Jared selected the perfect ball.
"To Hawaii?" I laughed like he'd just asked me to fly with him to the moon. "No way. I couldn't afford a trip like that. Besides I have to stay for soccer. It's the same reason I'm not going with Sara to the Keys."
"First of all, I told you, you wouldn't be paying for it. And secondly, you already got into Stanford to play soccer. You can miss a week." He begged one more time, "Please, come with me."
I smiled, and before I could allow myself to even consider it, I said, "Sorry, I can't."
"I've tried, Evan," Sara interjected. "Believe me, I've tried. I think she's trying to soak in as much time in Weslyn as she can before you're off to Stanford."
"Yeah, right," I shot back with a horrified face that made her laugh. "I can't get out of Weslyn fast enough."
"Speaking of which," Jared chimed in after he motioned for us to admire his strike that was flashing on the screen above our heads. "When are we going to officially celebrate your admittance into Stanford? The both of you, actually."
"Graduation?" I suggested. I wouldn’t be convinced I was going until I walked down the aisle with the diploma in my hand.
"That's actually a great idea," Evan considered. "We can have a huge graduation party in my backyard."
"Yes!" Sara exclaimed in excitement before rolling the ball down the lane.
"And your dad will go for that?" I questioned skeptically, knowing he and Evan weren't exactly on speaking terms―kind of like me and my mother, but for extremely different reasons.
"Who cares," Evan shrugged. "What's he going to do?"
Jared laughed with enlarged eyes, like he knew exactly what their father was capable of. Evan didn't seem fazed. But I couldn't help but shrink a few inches in my chair.
"Should I be worried about Evan and his father?" I asked Sara when I was driving her back to her house.
"Are you looking for insider information because Evan's making it seem like it's not a big deal?"
"Well, yeah," I answered uncomfortably. "Has Jared said anything?"
Sara was quiet, deliberating what to say. She always got fidgety whenever she had to tell me something I didn't want to hear.
"Just say it, Sara," I demanded flatly.
"I promised Jared I wouldn't, so you have to swear that you won't mention it to Evan, no matter what." I just stared at her impatiently. "Fine. Mr. Mathews has threatened to cut Evan off if he goes to Stanford. He said he could freeze his accounts, take away his passport and even his car."
"Over choosing Stanford?" I struggled to get the words out.
"You know it has nothing to do with Stanford."
"Yeah," I breathed. "I do. I can't let this happen."
"It's not your decision to make, Emma," Sara warned. "It's Evan's."
30. Unexpected Future
My mother couldn't stay silent for long. It was against her nature. So whether she'd truly forgiven me or not, she was talking to me like she had.
"I may be a little late tonight," she informed me, rushing around as she tended to do most mornings before work. "Do you have practice today?"
"No, not today," I told her from my spectator position, on the couch with a bowl of cereal.
"Do you think you could cook dinner?" She paused and looked to me. "Or... maybe order out? I don't think I'll be out of the meeting in time."
I smiled and said, "I may go to Evan's for dinner."
"Great. I'll feel better knowing you're eating something that's not microwaved. But I won't be late, okay?"
"Okay." She'd been letting me know her schedule for the past couple of days. I was pretty sure it was her indirect way of apologizing for making me worry about her last Thursday night when she passed out at Sharon's without calling.
She rushed out the door with a lightweight jacket over her arm.
This week had taken a pleasant rise in temperature. They were forecasting near eighty by Friday, which was unheard of in early April in Connecticut. I wasn't complaining.
With the increase in temperature and only eight weeks to go until permanent freedom, the seniors were having a hard time concentrating. Class was more chatty and the halls were bouncing with energy.
"Want to skip last class?" Sara proposed during lunch.
"I can't," I moped, "I have a paper due."
"What are you doing after school? You should come over."
"I don't think I'll have time. I have to get some laundry done before I have nothing to wear, and then I'm going to Evan's for dinner."
"This weekend then. I'm not leaving for Florida until Monday, so you can spend the weekend with me. Do you have a game?"
"On Saturday," I told her. "Yeah, I think we need some girl time."
Sara smiled. "Yes we do! I'm feeling a little disconnected from you lately, so we have some catching up to do."
"Agreed."
I'd decided even before this conversation that I needed to fill Sara in on everything that was happening with my mother. I didn't have Jonathan to talk to any longer, and Sara was my best friend. She was
supposed
to know these things. Now that we had actual time set aside for us, I somehow felt... better. Sara would know what I should do. Or at least have a very candid opinion of the situation.