Page 38 of Searching for Beautiful
The word is makes my heart jump slightly. I feared a was. Was is so hard when you’re using it in regard to someone you love. “Oh. Where is she?” Is it bad that Brenda’s pain makes me feel another tie to her? I don’t want her to hurt. Don’t want anyone I know to hurt, but in a way it makes me feel less lonely.
It takes Brenda a few seconds before she replies. “I’m not sure. I think she’s with her father. She doesn’t want anything to do with me. ”
My chest cracks open for her. How can anyone not want something to do with Brenda? Does Angelica talk to Christian? I think about Dad. Things are strained between us, but I know he would never cast me out.
“When I left her father for Sally…well, you can imagine things were hard on her. It was hard on Christian, too, at first. I mean, he had to leave here, and all his friends behind. ”
Oh. So now I know why Christian disappeared all those years ago.
“I’ll always regret how I did that. I should have been smarter about it—my children deserved that. Angelica took it the hardest. I should have realized how hard, but I didn’t. I let her be angry and let her tell me everything was okay. It’s one of the biggest mistakes of my life, mija. I will always feel like I failed her. I don’t want any other kids to feel like they don’t have someone there for them. ”
“I’m sorry. ” All I can think is how incredible she is. Just like Christian, they’re both still going. Sure, there are little bumps in the road. Maybe Christian’s outburst at the center was one of them. But they’re not folding in on themselves like I am. They’re living…and I’m just being.
I’d like to try to live again.
Before I get the chance to say anything else, she announces, “We’re here! This is going to be so much fun!”
…
The first thing I notice when I see Emery is the red tinting her eyes. The frown on her face. She’s never sad, and seeing her like this immediately makes my gut sink. All I can think about is the baby, and I’m hoping and praying that nothing is wrong with her.
“Are you okay?” I ask as I approach her in the corner. Another sign something is wrong. Emery is in a corner alone.
“Peachy. ” There is a roughness in her voice I’m not used to.
But I remember crying and how I felt when I lost my baby and it’s all I can think about—the bump under her shirt. Please let everything be okay with her baby.
Emery turns and pushes her way through the crowd. I find myself following her. She stomps down a hall and I’m right behind her when she goes into another room.
“Is the baby okay?” My voice squeaks, and I can’t even finish the sentence.
“Yes! God. Why is it always about the baby? Either it’s all people care about when they talk to me, or they’re so mad about the baby they won’t talk at all. Baby, baby, baby!” Emery falls to a chair and starts to cry.
My eyes are watering, too. I don’t know what’s wrong with her or what to do, but I find myself walking to the chair next to her and sitting down. I put my arm around her the way no one did to me—the way Dad tried but couldn’t bring himself to—and I let her cry.
And she does. So many tears that I wonder how she has any left.
I just sit there with my arm around her, hoping that I’m doing the right thing. That this somehow helps, because if I can’t help myself, it feels good to do it for someone else.
When the tears finally stop, she wipes her eyes with her sleeve, and then her demeanor completely changes. “Wow. I totally freaked out on you there. I’m sorry about that. ” She smiles at me. I can’t believe she’s smiling after she just cried so much.
“I’m being stupid,” she continues. “I just got in a fight with my boyfriend and I lost it for a minute. I’m fine now. ”
“I thought you didn’t have a boyfriend?”
Her mouth widens as though she just made a mistake. “I don’t. I didn’t mean that. He’s my ex; I just said the wrong word. I’m having a bad day. It’s hormones and stuff. ”
“Oh. ” Her reply doesn’t sit right with me. There’s something off about it, but it’s not like I’m going to call her a liar. I know how it feels to have people doubt you.
“Thanks, though…for talking to me. I needed to get that out. ” Emery reaches over and gives me a hug. “Thank you,” she whispers again and I hug her back. The way she says it, combined with the way she hugs me, makes me wonder if she could possibly be as lonely as I am. You’d never know it by looking at her, but as she clings to me, it seems truer and truer.
“It’s okay. I didn’t really do anything. ”
Emery shakes her head. “Yeah you did. I know how hard talking without being prompted is for you, and I appreciate it. ”
I roll my eyes. She might not have known me long, but she seems to know me well.
With that, she heads for the door. With her hand on the knob, she turns and says, “Can I ask you a favor?”
