When I Was Theirs

13. Emmy

13

Emmy

T he third glass of the night tips, spilling beer all over me before it rolls to the floor and smashes.

A cheer rings out around me as I stare down at it.

“Emmy?” Carla asks gently. She wraps an arm around my shoulders, steering me gently to the far side of the bar and studying my face. “Oh, honey. What is it?”

I can’t look at her. I don’t want to voice the thoughts in my head. Don’t want to put them out into the world, some superstition I never knew I had until now. “Nothing. I don’t feel well.”

It’s not a complete lie. I feel sick, almost dizzy, as the seconds tick by, agonizingly slow as I wait for the end of my shift.

He’ll be there.

The dread only grows as the hours pass and there’s no sign of him. Ben doesn’t walk in, taking his usual spot at the bar. There’s no sign of his smile as he shoulders through the crowd with glasses in his hands.

Carla keeps asking, but I shake her off. She has enough of her own pain going on, with Katie’s illness.

I leave the regular customers, the bigger tippers, to her and take the college students that don’t or can’t tip much.

“Carla.” I grab her as she’s coming back from her break. My head is spinning. “How much do you need for Katie’s trial? The one you’re saving up for?”

A flash of fear flits across her face. “This one? We think at least fifty, with everything considered. It’s in Germany.”

Fifty thousand dollars.

Carla and John barely earn that in a year.

A single medical trial.

By the time we close up, I can barely focus for the fear clogging my throat. I burst out into the street, my head twisting as I call out. “Ben?”

I know.

I know.

But I search anyway. I search every corner of the street, my eyes blurring with every step.

Casual only.

I’m leaving soon.

He wanted to be alone.

That’s why he came here.

My sob catches in my throat as I head toward Ben’s apartment. My umbrella hangs at my side, the lights off.

I don’t rush.

I don’t want to face the moment when he’s not there.

Because I know he won’t be.

I lift my head as the sound of shouting reaches my ears. Up ahead, a group of people are clustered on the sidewalk.

I pause beside them with little interest, waiting for the lights to change.

“—the hell is he doing?”

“He’s going to get himself killed.”

“Should we call someone?”

I glance over to where they’re pointing. Over to our right, a man is walking directly up the middle of the main road. A car swerves around him, the driver yelling angrily as he gestures out of the window.

My brows knit together.

And then I’m running .

I shove people out of the way, ignoring the irritated shouts as I run directly for him, my scream ripping from my throat. “Ben!”

He doesn’t turn around.

“Ben!” I can’t get the yell out through the terror in my chest as another car barely avoids him. “ Get off the road !”

Is he—

No—

I slam into him, nearly taking us both over. He spins, hands landing on my arms as I shake him. “What are you doing ?”

“Emmy?” Ben… he smiles down at me, and I pause, both of us standing in the middle of the street. “There you are.”

Panting, I stare at him. “What… what are you doing?”

His brow creases. “Coming to pick you up. I always come to pick you up.”

He glances down the road, his eyebrows dipping further into a frown as he looks around us. “I was… I was coming to get you.”

I wet my lips. My words are almost voiceless, choked and slow. “Which way were you going?”

He stares at me, mouth opening before he turns and points. “I… that way. That’s the way to the bar.”

I turn with him, staring down the street toward the oncoming traffic as my eyes blur and horns blow.

I thought I knew what heartbreak felt like.

Pain. Grief. Rage.

But I didn’t. I had no idea what true heartbreak felt like.

Not until this moment.

I know that I will never forget it. That amidst everything else in my life, amongst every bad memory, this one – this is the one that will haunt me.

Because he has no idea what’s wrong.

“Em?” Ben is starting to look worried. “Why are you crying?”

I shake my head, forcing a smile. “I’ll tell you at home. Let’s go home, okay?”

But he’s staring down the road again. “Why are we here?”

“It’s okay,” I say again. It’s the only thing I can say, as I reach for his hand and force the tears back around the aching in my throat. “It’s going to be okay, Ben.”

It’s not going to be okay.

None of this is okay.

But he grips my hand tightly, and lets me lead him off the road, on to the safety of the sidewalk. People give us a wide berth, whispering behind their hands.

One woman has her phone out. She pales when I turn to glare at her, lowering the screen.

“Emmy?” Ben mumbles my name. “What’s happening?”

He sounds so young. Young, and vulnerable, and scared . So scared that I stop in the middle of the street and wrap my arms around him. My tears spill over, soaking into his chest as I grip him tightly, listening for his heartbeat. “Everything is going to be fine. We’re going home now, okay?”

And Ben’s heart – his strong, sure heart – it stutters beneath my ear. “But home is the other way.”

My eyes close. “I found a shortcut. I’ll show you.”