Chapter 9

The phone rang that evening just as Emma was settling down for bed. She knew immediately it was Joe, and she wanted to kick herself for not calling to ask about his flight. He assured her that everything had been smooth.

“I’m sorry I couldn’t be with you today. Was it hard?”

“Not too bad. The trash and the dishes were pretty rank, but– ”

“I mean, was it hard facing Rachel’s house? It must have been a long day there all alone.”

Emma hesitated. “I… wasn’t alone the entire day. The Realtor came by to look the house over, and he stayed awhile.” She twisted the phone cord around her finger.

“Well?”

“Well, what?”

“What did he say?”

He said I was even more gorgeous than he remembered. Feeling the blood rush to her cheeks, she was glad Joe couldn’t see her. “He said we’ll need an area rug, some curtains, and slipcovers for the living room furniture.” If he couldn’t see her face, he could certainly hear her chirpy voice, like a low-budget radio ad announcer.

She breathed deeply and then went on. “And of course we’ll have to paint the whole house—something neutral, Darren said.”

“Oh, it’s Darren is it? So you’re on a first-name basis with the Realtor. I see how it is.”

She could hear the laughter in his voice, but her heart accelerated as she stumbled over her answer. “He’s an old friend. We… went to school together.”

“A long lost friend? That makes me feel much better.”

The receiver slipped in her sweaty palm. “It wasn’t like that. I never looked twice at him. He was just a skinny band geek.”

She didn’t mention that he’d filled out in a most appealing way since high school.

***

After she hung up with Joe, she was too keyed up to sleep. Instead she sat at the vanity table and scrutinized her face, tracing the fine lines around her eyes and the vertical crevice to the left of her mouth. What had Darren really seen when he looked at her? 

Staring at her reflection in the cracked mirror, she suddenly imagined Rachel’s face next to her own, soft and unlined.

It was prom night at last, and Emma’s makeup brushes fluttered over her younger sister’s face. A cloud of loose powder made Rachel cough, and Emma admonished her to sit still.

Trying not to move her lips, to which Emma was applying a frosty pink lip gloss, Rachel asked, “So what do you think? Is tonight the night?”

“The night for what?” Emma feigned nonchalance, but ducked her head when she saw the color in her cheeks.

“The night Evan will kiss you!”

Emma’s hands stilled, and a smug grin tugged at the corners of her lips. She gestured to the pink sequined dress laid carefully across her bed. “When he sees me in that, his eyes will pop out of his head. Mmm-hmm, I feel lucky tonight.”

“Well, if he doesn’t, I’ll think you’re losing your touch. What is this, your third date?”

Rachel didn’t need to ask; she knew every detail of how Emma had pursued Evan. She’d had a crush on him since seventh grade, but until three weeks ago, he’d been oblivious to her relentless flirting. Of course, he’d had a girlfriend most of the time, but he’d broken up with his last one at just the right time.

When he invited her for ice cream after a football game, she was so giddy she could hardly string a sentence together. Still, she must have done something right because he asked her to the prom two weeks later.

Rachel had squealed in delight with her, holding both her hands and jumping up and down with her.

Now they were crowded together on the low bench, admiring their reflections. 

“You look gorgeous, sis.” Rachel gave Emma a sideways hug, careful not to disturb her artfully arranged curls. “Evan would be crazy not to kiss you.”

“You’re beautiful too, Rach—or you will be as soon as I’m done with you.”

She began unwinding springy curls from the Hot Sticks which hung in loops from Rachel’s head.

“Ouch!” Rachel cried, grimacing when Emma tugged too hard.

Emma dropped a pink rubber stick into its slot and licked her thumb and finger. “Shut up, you baby. At least you haven’t been burning your fingers.”

After they’d slipped into their dresses, they stood side by side in front of the mirror. Rachel tugged at her blue sheath dress, which looked almost like Emma’s, except that her dress clung more tightly to her curves, while Emma’s just skimmed her stick-thin frame.

“See, I told you that was the perfect dress,” Emma said.

“It’s not too tight?”

“No, you look amazing. Paul won’t be able to take his eyes off you.” She couldn’t believe Evan’s best friend had invited Rachel to the prom, and now they’d be able to share what would surely be the most amazing night of her life.

***

Even after all these years, her stomach still churned with humiliation when she thought of that night. But now there was no one left to be angry with.

As she settled into bed, her eyes fell on the box of journals she’d dropped onto Rachel’s bed. What if Rachel had written about the prom? She hesitated, not sure she could bear to relive that dreadful night one more time.

Even in the dark, with her eyes closed, that box beckoned. At last she groaned and flipped on the light. She slipped out of bed and dumped the journals onto the floor.

Treating this as just an organizational task, she opened each journal to the front page and stacked them all by dates, not pausing to read a single page until she’d sorted through all 15 volumes. The prom entry had to be in the second journal, a tattered red single-subject spiral. She turned the pages with trembling hands, scanning for the first mention of the prom.

                Thursday 5/14/92 PM

Paul Avery asked me to prom today. He waited at the door for me after Chemistry. His voice cracked, and he kept wiping his sweaty palms on his jeans. 

I almost said yes just to put him out of his misery, but then I told him I’d think about it. I’m not sure I even want to go. It’s Emma’s prom, not mine, and she still doesn’t have a date. Not that she hasn’t been asked. She’s just holding out for Evan. It’s been nearly two weeks since the big game, and he still hasn’t asked her. 

Anyway, I’m not sure if I like Paul. He’s nice, and smart, but not that cute. I know that shouldn’t matter, but it does.

                 Friday 5/15/92 PMI told Paul I’d go. Emma said I’d be crazy to miss the chance to go to prom as a junior. And it’s not like Paul is my boyfriend. If I don’t have fun, I don’t have to go out with him again.

Maybe she’s right, but I hate to get his hopes up. He was so excited when I said yes. He asked for my phone number, then dropped his pen. Twice.

But he was nowhere near as excited as Emma was today. Evan called her after school and asked her to prom! “Nothing like waiting till the last minute,” she said. Turns out he’d made plans with Rebecca before they broke up, and he had to make sure she didn’t still want to go. Nice!

Emma started screaming as soon as they hung up. You would've thought she'd been crowned Miss America. We held hands and jumped up and down in the kitchen, before I even knew what we were celebrating. 

Mom thought we’d lost our marbles. “You’re two peas in a pod,” she said. But when Emma told us about her conversation with Evan, she warned her to be careful, not to set her heart so much on Evan. 

Well, I’m thrilled for her no matter what Mom says. She’s been waiting for him forever. It’s about time he noticed her.

Emma had forgotten her mother’s warning. In all the excitement, she’d probably never heard it in the first place. How did Mom know Evan would break my heart?

She probably didn’t know, Emma decided. Her mother had always been overly cautious after the devastation of losing her husband.

She set aside the journal, her eyes heavy after her long day of cleaning. She wasn’t ready to deal with the memories yet.

***

Ellen was pacing the kitchen when Emma came down for breakfast at six the next morning. “Sit down and eat your oatmeal,” she said. “We need to leave for work in ten minutes.”

“I know, Mom. Sorry I was running late. I was up reading Rachel’s journal last night.”

“That’s nice, honey.” Ellen stood at the back door, her hand on the knob. “You can tell me about it in the car.”

Emma forced down a couple bites of her tepid oatmeal and dumped the rest. Maybe she could find a Starbucks after she dropped her mom off.

On the road, Ellen finally relaxed enough to make conversation. “You look nice. But why are you so dressed up?”

“I’m not dressed up.” Emma glanced down at her khaki shorts and fitted purple blouse.

“You just look a little fancy for cleaning house. Are you wearing makeup, too?”

“Mom! It’s too early for all these questions.” She turned her head to hide the flush in her cheeks.

“I was just curious. I thought you might have plans to meet a friend.”

“No, no plans.”

Ellen eyed her shrewdly. “That Darren isn’t coming back by?”

“He didn’t say if he was.” Still, she couldn’t help hoping that he might.

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