Empty Promises (The Promises Series Book 3) (6 page)

I stalk through the kitchen like a pissed off grizzly bear, fling open the meds cabinet and scramble around for some painkillers. I’ve not been able to take anything that wasn’t prescribed by my oncologist for so long that I pause, momentarily worrying if it will be okay before tossing two pills back and washing them down with a gulp of water directly from the faucet.
What’s the worst that could happen? They kill me? Ha! They better get in line.

I shuffle back to my room and slam the door, wincing as the sound ricochets around my skull as I scowl angrily like it wasn’t just me that made it happen. My dress, jacket and boots are displayed in the corner of the room, all ironed and ready to go. I stare at them for a long moment before squaring my shoulders and standing tall.
Fake it ‘tll you make it, Wilson
. I strip and head into my bathroom. I’m not going to be beaten, not today.

As I climb into the shower, I decide that I’m gonna suck it up and manipulate this day to go my way, and I’m going to do it with a smile, even if it’s forced. Positive Mental Attitude, Emily…

P.M. mother-effing A!

August 2
nd
, 2013

(*4 Months)

Dear Diary,

It’s Friday!

I woke up feeling less than stellar, but as the day goes on, I’m feeling better. By the way, I’m using the term ‘better’ very loosely. I’ve taken a few pills and they seem to be keeping my headache at bay. Let’s hope they can hold out until after the gig.

I’m a ball of nervous energy; if someone came up and touched me right now, I’m sure I’d electrocute them. On one hand, I’m completely amped at the prospect of seeing Ethan, and at the same time, I’m scared to death. I know the chances of tonight playing out anywhere near how I’ve dreamed are about as likely as my doctor calling and telling me that they messed up the tests and actually, I’m fine. But I can’t let go of that little ray of hope—the one tucked down deep at the bottom of my heart—that maybe he’ll like me. Not ‘friend-zone’ like, but ‘damn, you’re kinda hot’ like. I’ve clearly taken too many meds…

I’ll report back after the event.

Wish me luck.

THE ROOM FEELS heavy with the smell of alcohol and sweat. I’m looking down at the big black stamp on my hand that alerts everyone within a fifty-feet radius that I’m not twenty-one. Last week I’d hit Casey up for her college contact that had supplied some kids with a pretty decent fake ID, but a hundred bucks and a shady looking ID later, I lost my nerve. I didn’t hand over the counterfeit license when carded at the club’s entrance. So I guess I can forget about crossing ‘get wasted’ off my list. Maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing though; I’m feeling a lot less than okay at the moment. I can feel the makeup I spent a painstakingly long hour applying sliding right off my face with the beads of sweat that have broken out.

“You want a drink?” Blair asks as she pushes her way through the crowd with her sights set on the bar.

“Yeah…” I attempt to take a steadying breath; there doesn’t seem to be any oxygen in this room. It’s hot. Too hot. Blair’s head whips around and she looks at me with concern filling her eyes. Peeling my jacket down my arms in an attempt to cool off, I stumble; my balance is a little off.

“Shit, Em, you don’t look too good,” she says, taking my clammy arm and steering me over to a table so I can take a seat.

“I’ll be okay, I swear.”

“Yeah, I’m not buying that. What can I do? You want me to take you home?”

“NO!” It sounds desperate and I shake my head. Multi-colored spots float in front of Blair’s face and I need to squint to bring her back into focus. “I promise I’m all right. The heat in here just got to me. Can you get me a bottle of water?”

“Don’t move from here, okay? I’ll go grab you one.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll stay put.” I attempt a reassuring smile, but by the look on her face, I failed. Good thing I left out the fact that I don’t think I could stand without puking and passing out. I couldn’t wander off even if I wanted to.

She frowns and then barges her way through the cramped club, like a tiny bulldozer. I love how fiercely she loves me. I can’t think of a single thing she wouldn’t do for me if I asked; friends like Blair are so rare. When she returns moments later with my water, I want to hug her tight and tell her what she means to me. But she’d probably think I was about to keel over and was attempting my last goodbye, so I hold back. I drink the water hoping it will make me feel better; it doesn’t.

A guy comes out from behind the curtained area just off the tiny stage and introduces Kickstart. There’s a huge gaggle of girls, some I even recognize from school, clamoring for a better spot next to the stage. When Jackson emerges and begins to fiddle with an amp, the club fills with whistles and cheers. The rest of the band walks out onto the stage and I crane my neck to try and get a better view. It’s a hopeless effort as the dance floor floods with people and now I can only see a swarm of backs.

Ethan’s voice fills the space around me as he introduces the band and their first song. I don’t want to miss this; I’ve waited too long. I stand, ignoring the protests my body is making, and take a few tentative steps closer to the dance floor. I sway and Blair has me in an instant.

“Emily, I really think we need to go,” she says in a soft voice in my ear. Her words are laced with sadness, just like my heart right now.

I twist to tell her no, but my vision takes a little longer to catch up with my body and I know I can’t stay. I feel like my head is about to explode and I’m about ten seconds from internally combusting. I know she’s right.

“Okay.” I swallow the lump that’s forming in my throat. Tonight was supposed to be so different. My chest tightens as the reality that Ethan Jamison and I are never going to happen sets in. The back of my eyes begins to sting, and I realize in horror a second too late that a tear has escaped.

Blair’s face crumples. She takes a second to look at her feet before raising her head and offering me a smile I know she doesn’t feel. “Let's get out of here.”

I’m led out through the throng of people singing along to the music, and when I climb the three stairs to head out to the exit, I stop. Blair jolts back and I drop her hand as I look out over everyone’s heads and take in the sight of Ethan. His eyes are closed as he sings into the microphone.

Enough.
Enough is enough.

Blair takes my hand again and we leave. I’m hit with that feeling you get when you know you’ve misplaced something, or overlooked something important, only you can’t quite remember what it is. But as Blair helps me into the car, I realize I do know what it is that I’ve forgotten.

My heart.

My broken heart that is sitting shattered at the table inside of the club.

August 2nd, 2013

Dear Diary,

I want to give up. I’m not going to, but I want to. This shit’s too hard.

I haven’t updated my diary in almost a week. I couldn’t face it. I haven’t been at school, either. Mom took me straight to the hospital on Friday night when Blair brought me home. After hooking me up to an IV for the evening to get some fluids into me, they let me leave Saturday morning with a bag full of meds and an appointment for Monday.

I haven’t lived this week; I’ve only existed. And I’m sick to fuck of existing!

I pull on my sweater and head out to the car. My dad insisted on driving; maybe he thinks I’ll ditch my appointment today. He’s waiting to take me to Dr. Zahn’s, and Blair’s already sitting in the back seat. I don’t know the exact moment we decided that she would come to my sessions with me, but I’m thankful she’s here right now.

The ride to Dr. Zahn’s office is painfully quiet. I’m not exactly in the mood to talk, and Dad and Blair seem to be taking their cues from me. The atmosphere is thick and muggy with everything that each of us isn’t saying. Dad drops us at the entrance and I tell him not to wait. He looks sad as he puts the car in drive and pulls away.

“Seriously, Em… I can't even imagine how bad this is for you, but you have to pull yourself out of this funk. You really want to spend your time moping when we could be doing so much more? Let's go skydiving, or cliff jumping or something epic… Let's live.”

My tears are instant, and by the look on Blair’s face, completely unexpected.

“Shit …Gosh, Em, I didn’t—”

“Stop! You’re right. I just needed to hear it, I guess.” I dig around in my purse, looking for something to dry my tears with, when Blair steps forward and swipes under my eyes with the sleeve of her shirt. “Nice!”

“Hey, you should be thankful. I love you, but damn, you are one ugly crier.”

I burst out laughing because only she could say something so mean, yet project it with such good intentions. “Do I have panda eyes now?” I ask, widening them.

“A little bit, but it looks good. Kind of like you’ve tried to make your mascara all watery and smudged.” I step back looking skeptically at her and she snorts. “Okay, maybe not good … but not horrendous.”

“Great,” I groan. “Well, let’s go inside and get this over with. We don’t want to be too late to go throw ourselves off a cliff!”

“Yeah … you do realize that I meant
you
should do that? Not me. I’ll just watch and be there for, you know, moral support and stuff.”

“Gee, thanks. Whatever happened to you go, I’ll go?”

“Yeah, pretty sure I canned that after you convinced me to go to that roller skating rink last year. My ass has never seen so much floor time.”

I loved that day. I spent more time helping her up off the floor than I did skating, but it was pure fun. Most things with Blair are.

We check in at reception, then wait to be called in. The blond guy with the slogan T-shirt is here again. He’s leaning forward in one of the chairs reading a music magazine with a pair of obnoxiously large headphones on, bobbing his head to whatever’s playing. I’m trying to peep over his magazine to see if he’s wearing another slogan shirt. If he is, I’m totally introducing him to Blair. I turn to see she’s pulled out her e-reader and is now mirroring the guy’s pose, wearing her blue ‘Free Shrugs’ T-shirt.