Authors: Katrina Penaflor
It’s funny when she’s talking with a mouth full of pizza because
her words are slightly muffled. And it’s the first time tonight that Emilie
actually looks happy, and it’
s over eating good food.
We continue to eat our pizza and ask each other questions. I tell
her about how I used to study photography at my old school, but switched to
business when I transferred, because I felt like I needed something to fall
back on if photography didn’t work out. She tells me she’s a community health
major, and also mentions that I’m so tan, it’s unfair. I agree, and I thank the
Columbian heritage on my mom’s side for my warm skin tone.
Slowly, I think she’s starting to warm up to me, and her
straightforward attitude is beginning to fade.
The check comes and we both reach to grab it. Luckily I get to it
first. “Don’t even try to fight me on this, Emmy.” I try out a nickname on her
that I think suits her more than Emilie, or Jarrod’s
Em
.
She pauses as if thinking over whether or not she wants to argue
about who’s paying. “
Fine,
but don
’t call me Emmy.”
“Okay,” I tell her, even though I know that I’m going to continue
to call her that.
As we get back into my car after leaving the restaurant, I try to
decide on what to do next with Emmy. “Did you have fun?” I ask to try and get
an idea if we should keep hanging out.
“It was alright,” She says, but I think she sounds sarcastic?
I wonder if she always acts like this. With a permanent chip on
her shoulder. “Just alright? Does that mean you want to go home?”
“That’s probably a good idea. I don’t mean to sound rude, but I
don’t really date people. I don’t know what it was about you that made me say
yes, but I probably won’t go out with you again for the sole reason that I’m
not looking to commit to anyone.”
Is she seriously saying that she never dates people, at all? Guys
must constantly ask her out. Hell, two of my friends wanted to. “So you’re
saying that we won’t go on anymore dates because you don’
t date?
”
“Exactly.”
I can’t say I was won over by her charm tonight, or lack thereof,
but I do want to hang out with her again, even if it isn’t a date.
“Fine. I’ll take you home.”
Emmy raises her eyebrows as if surprised by how I’m going along
with what she said.
I drive her back to her apartment and park my car.
“We will see each other again though.”
“Ren, I just told you that I don’t date.”
“I didn’t say ‘date’
I said we’ll see each
other again. You’re kind of a brat, but for some reason I want to continue to
hang out with you.”
“
You aren
’t trying to trick me into dating you, right?”
“Nope, just to hang out. What, you don’t like being friends with
people?”
“I didn’t say that, this just seems odd. The whole, ‘let’s be
friends’
thing after a bad date sounds too cheesy to me.”
When she’s talking to me, I can’t help but notice hundreds of tiny
freckles stamped across her nose and cheeks. I will photograph those.
“Let me ask you this question again, and give me a real answer.
Did you have fun?”
I stare at her again, counting countless freckles.
“Yes,” Emmy says quietly.
“Then it’s settled. No more dating, but more hanging out. You just
transferred to a new school. What kind of harm can one new friend do?”
“Okay, fine.” She opens her door and gets out of my car. Before
she closes it she says, “And thanks for the pizza. That place really is my
favorite.”
I
feign shock at her thank you, dramatically dropping my jaw and holding my hand
over my heart. Emmy just rolls her eyes and purses her lips. I watch her walk
into her apartment, and I smile in triumph as I pull out of the parking lot.
* *
“Where have you been?”
Mason asks me when I walk in the door. He’s sitting on the couch
in our living room watching television.
“I had a
date.”
His hand full
of popcorn pauses midway to his mouth. “A date? You were on a date? I can’t
freakin’
remember the last time you took a girl out on a date.”
“Well, I did
tonight and it kind of sucked. She even said so herself.”
“Ha! Who’s
the unlucky girl?”
“Emilie, the
girl from the diner the other night.”
“You took out
the girl from the diner? What the hell, man! How did this even happen?”
I didn’t
think he would be this pissed about it. Okay, maybe I did, but he’s
overreacting. Mason isn’t one to take women out either, but for entirely
different reason than my own.
“You didn’t
bother to ask her out when you had the chance. I went back into the diner this
morning to grab my sweatshirt and she was there. I asked her out. The date
sucked. That’s it.”
“Why did the
date suck? Were you bad company?”
“She’s kind
of a bitch.”
Okay, maybe that was a harsh assessment.
“You’re
joking.”
“Yeah, I am.
But she is a little mean, but sort of in a funny way. Like everything she says
is really direct, and she doesn’t apologize for it.”
“Sounds like
my kind of woman. Maybe I should ask her out.”
Mason better
be kidding. He’s not taking Emmy out on a date. “Don’t even think about it.
Besides, she says she doesn’t date. This was an exception.”
“You don’t
really date either, or at least not since your last girlfriend.”
Mason says while I join him on the couch.
“I have since
then, but it
’
s only been a few times.
”
Okay, it
’
s only been twice. It was a little after I broke up with my last
girlfriend, Lyla. I’ve hooked up with girls since then, but it’s basically just
been casual sex. It’s rare for me to take anyone out anymore.
“Just wait
until Adam hears about this.”
I’m not worried
about what Adam will think of this. “Go ahead, tell him.”
Chapter Five
Emilie
Ren just dropped me off. I can
hear the loud sound of his truck pulling out of the parking lot of my apartment
complex.
I think I
hurt his feelings about his car. No, I know I hurt his feelings about his car.
I felt a little bad after what I said. I was just giving my opinion, but I
probably should have thought about what I was saying before I spoke.
I strip out
of my clothes as I walk through my apartment. I’m ready for a shower, and to
relax. I turn the water on extra hot in my bathroom. You would think with the
run-down apartment that I live in, hot water would be an issue, but
surprisingly it’s perfect.
As the steam
fills the shower, and I blanket myself in the warmth of the water, I can’t help
but think about my date, which did not go well.
Every time I
looked at Ren tonight, something about him captivated me. It’s not just
attraction, but something else. I kept deflecting it by carrying on
stupid conversations and borderline
insulting everything he said. Because I knew, if tonight led to another date,
nothing good could come from it.
Dating only
complicate things. I’m not looking to be in a relationship with anyone, and as
life has told me, I’m better off on my own. That doesn’t mean that I don’t
enjoy the company of guys. I’ve gone out with a few in the past, but as soon as
it led to anything other than casual sex or friendship, I ended it. I just
can’t picture myself being close enough with a guy to call him my boyfriend.
My trust in
people only goes so far.
Maybe I just
haven’t quite caught up to the understanding of a relationship. I didn’t date
in high school like most people did. I pretty much just kept to myself. I
avoided friends, and I avoided boys. I was more focused on wearing clothes that
covered the bruises my father left all over my body than to be worried about
prom or my first kiss.
Ren tonight
though, was different. I’m attracted to him, I won’t deny that. That was the
big factor in why I said yes in the first place. But there was something else
about him, something I couldn’t put my finger on. When he looked at me with
those bright green eyes, it was as if I couldn’t say no.
And not being
able to say no, is not an option.
I finish
rinsing my papaya scented shower gel off my body and turn off the water. As
soon as I wrap a towel around myself I think I hear a knock at the door.
“Ren, if
you’re back I swear to God,”
I say to myself.
The bathroom
is close to the front door, so it only takes a few steps for me to reach it.
I don
’t have a peep hole so I
ask, “Who is it?”
“It’s me
bitch!”
A familiar high pitched voice says from behind the door. “And I
brought wine, so you have to let me in.”
I open the door
to see the wide grinned face of my friend Noel. She immediately prances her
five-foot-two frame into my apartment.
“
I don
’t know about
you,
Em
, but I desperately need some girl time.”
“What
happened?”
I ask her.
“I ended
things with Trent.”
I didn’t know
they were dating. Trent was just someone she casually mentioned every once in a
while. “Were things between you two serious?”
“No, not at
all. We were more just hooking up, but he asked me to do something today that
even
I
thought was weird.”
I don
’t even need to ask Noel
what. She continues, “He asked if I wanted to act out this porno he watched the
other day. He said it was because the Asian girl in it looked just like me
—
which, let me just say, I didn’t agree with. And after I watched
some of it, and I saw all the freaky stuff the woman was doing, I was out. I
said ‘bye Trent’
and left.”
This
surprisingly is on the low end of the list of crazy stories Noel has told me.
“So the girl
looked nothing like you?”
“We were both
Asian. That was it. She had bleach blonde hair and mines black. I think he just
used that as an excuse to try and get me to have weird sex with him. Didn’t
work.”
“I thought
you liked weird sex.”
“
Some
.
I like some weird sex, but the stuff this girl was doing was on another level.
I saw ping-pong balls, a container of yogurt, and I swear to God at one point a
monkey was involved.”
“Okay, okay,”
I intervene, not wanting to hear anymore. “No more, let’s just
drink this wine and watch reality TV.”
“Sounds good
to me.”
I excuse
myself to go change out of my towel and into sweats. After, Noel and I both get
comfortable on the couch and I put
Real Housewives of Beverly Hills
, my
guilty pleasure, on my small television. One of the few luxury items I’ve
purchased for myself.
Noel and I finish
one episode and half the bottle of wine before I bring up my date with Ren.
“So,”
I try to say casually, “I had a date tonight.”
Noel shakes
her head back and forth to convey her shock. “What? Why didn’t you tell me? Who
was it with?”
“His name is
Ren, and I met him at the diner.”
“Is he hot?”
“Yeah, he’s
pretty hot.” Okay, that’s an understatement.
“Tell me
more. Now. Give me every dirty detail.”
“Sadly, no
dirty details. The date didn’t really go over well,” which was my fault. “So
there’s not much more to it than that. We got pizza, he took me home, that’s
it.”
“Well, that
sucks. What went wrong?”
“We just
didn’t click,”
I lie.
I’ve known Noel for a while now, but not
long enough to
give her all the details about my past. She doesn’t know the hang ups I have
with relationships; she just thinks I’m more into casual hookups than being
someone’s girlfriend. Which is true, but she doesn’t know the extent of the
details.
“So you won’t
see him again I take it?”
“Not to date.
He said he wanted to see me as friends, but I’m not sure how that will work
out.”
“Hmm, you
never know,
Em
. Things might work out differently
than you thought they would.”
“You
might be right.”
* *
Noel left after we watched way too much
television and finished off the bottle of wine. She had one of her friends pick
her up and take her home since she walked to my house.
I’m lying in
my bed now, and I’m doing one of my worst habits.
I’m thinking.
Not about school,
or Noel, or my date tonight, but about my past. About my father.
“Emilie,
dammit, what time is it? Why are you still awake?”
I’m in the
kitchen and I can hear my father yelling as he comes down the stairs. He’s been
passed out for the last few hours, and I thought it would be okay to work on my
homework in the living room. “It’s seven,”
I tell
him.
He stumbles
into the kitchen and stands in front of the table I’m working at. He looks a
wreck, like he usually does after he’s been drinking. His white button down is
wrinkled and unbuttoned at the top, and his tie is missing. His dark blonde
hair is also matted to his head.
“Take this
shit,”
he points to my papers and textbooks, “and go to fucking bed. Do
you hear me? I don’t want you down here in my space at night. Pisses me off.”
“But I’m
almost done.”
The look he
gives me is full of rage.
After
fourteen years of dealing with him, I should know not to argue.
But for some
stupid reason I did, and it was a huge mistake.
“Excuse me.
What the fuck did you just say?”
“Nothing. I’m
leaving now.”
I quickly try to gather my
materials, dropping papers as I do. This only makes him angrier.
He picks up
papers off the floor and crumbles them within his fists. When he fully stands
again he grips the back of my neck to get me to look at him. “When I tell you
to get up and leave, you leave. Understand.”
He talks in a low voice, saying each word slowly so I can get his
point. I can smell the alcohol on his breath, and I feel the pain of his grip
on my neck—pulling tightly at my hair.
“
Yes, dad.
”
He slams the
papers he picked up into my chest and I try my hardest not to make a sound of
pain. When he finally releases me I quickly hurry up the stairs and into my
room, wishing that my door had a lock.
I push my
hands against my eyes rubbing them back and forth trying to shake my thoughts.
No matter how
hard I try, when I’m in my apartment alone, I find it almost impossible to
block him out of my thoughts. For years he tormented me at home, and even after
I’ve left and moved away, he still continues to haunt me.
It’s nearly
one in the morning, and I’m tired, but that doesn’t stop me from getting out of
my bed, changing into my swim suit, and leaving my house.
The walk to
the old motel takes me about ten minutes. Eight if I’m walking fast. I came
across this place a few weeks after moving into my apartment. I was exploring
the town, and I knew it would be perfect.
The motel
looks similar to my apartment complex. Two floors, with a railed off catwalk
connecting the doors. The major difference is that the hotel makes a U-shape
and my apartment is one solid row.
The pool at
the motel is gated in. It only locks from the outside, but the iron slates are large
enough that I can reach my hand through and pull the handle to open it. I’m
surprised it’s so easy to get into, but I’m thankful because it allows me free
access to the pool that usually is deserted.
Just the way
I like it.
I discovered
while living with my dad that baths were the only place I could calm down
inside my house. The door had a lock and resting in the warm water brought me
peace. It also helped sooth my aching body when needed. After moving out, I
sought that same calming feeling again. One day I decided to dip my head down
and submerge my whole body in the water—I heard nothing but silence. It was as
if my mind, my thoughts, everything, just slowed down and took a break. It was
an even more perfect feeling than sitting in the bath; it was bliss.
But after I
moved into my newest apartment at the beginning of this last summer, I found
myself with only a tiny shower and no bathtub. When I discovered this motel, I
figured it would be the perfect alternative.
After getting
myself into the pool area, I take off my sweatshirt and yoga pants. It’s mildly
cold outside, close to sixty degrees in September, but by some miracle the
water in the pool is heated enough for me to manage a quick swim.
I never dip
my toe in or slowly step into the water to adjust to the cold. I always just
jump right in. The shock of the temperature change hits me, and I instantly
feel cocooned by the water. I swim a few laps back and forth so my body warms
up. After my limbs feel loose and comfortable, I swim to the center of the
pool. I dip my body under and push my flat palms upwards until my body reaches
the bottom.
Sitting
cross-legged, I do nothing but rest. The water drowns out all sounds around me.
I can’t hear any cars driving by, any people talking, or the sound of my
father’
s crass
voice
.
All I hear is
silence, and my mind for one short moment can finally rest.
It’s
funny really. While I sit at the bottom of this pool, with my lungs retaining
only a small amount of air, I feel as if I can breathe again.