Chapter 20

The phone’s insistent ringing dragged Emma from sleep. She pushed herself up on one elbow and squinted at the alarm clock: 9:13. Voicemail picked up, and the phone fell silent. She collapsed onto her back, still atop the covers where she’d fallen asleep in her clothes.

She started to sit up but decided to slip in between the sheets instead. Just when she’d settled into the fetal position, the phone rang again. Remembering the last time she’d ignored repeated phone calls, she groaned and extended one arm out of her nest.

Even though she cleared her throat first, her hello was still gravelly.

“Emma, where were you yesterday? Why didn’t you call?” Melissa didn’t even bother to say hello.

“I was–”

“Sick, right? Well you should’ve called.”

“I’m sorry. I just–”

“See, if you had called I could have sent in the direct deposit orders. Anderson had 30 employees waiting in line for paper checks after I faxed over the totals. I had to give them a credit for two months, but we still may lose them.”

Heat flooded Emma’s face. Why do I keep thinking it can’t get any worse? “I’m so sorry, Melissa. I meant to do the direct deposits from home, but… I forgot.”

“You forgot?” Melissa sounded as shocked as if she’d admitted to forgetting to feed her baby.

“Well, I’ve been really distracted because… because Joe left me.”

Melissa’s discomfort was palpable even over the phone line. After an awkward moment, she softened her tone just a notch. “I’m sorry to hear that. Really I am. I know you’ve had a rough couple of months.”

Emma opened her mouth to say thank you, but Melissa went on before she could speak. “To be honest, though, you really need to get back to work. I took on a partner because I couldn’t manage by myself. And there’s a lot more work now than when you started.”

“I know. I know. I’ll–”

“Just get back to work, okay? Be here on Monday.”

“Okay, I will,” Emma said meekly, but the line was already dead.

Now someone else knew about her wrecked life. “Trixie was much more sympathetic,” she said as she threw off the covers.

So now what? It was only 9:20, and the Saturday hours loomed long ahead of her.

Oh, yes! Pilates. Could she still make the 10:00 class? She hadn’t been to the gym since Rachel’s funeral, and now she was suddenly desperate to get back.

She threw on some rumpled track pants from the growing pile next to the hamper and pulled on a clean T-shirt. She splashed some water onto her wild hair, smoothed it with a comb, and grimaced at the mascara smudges beneath her eyes. “I’m going,” she told her reflection firmly.

***

“You feeling the burn yet?” Katie asked, her glossy black curls bouncing as she circled the room checking the students’ form.

“Yes,” Emma hissed through clenched teeth. She tried to ignore the charley horse building in her left hamstring.

“Good! Give me five more.” Katie grinned at the chorus of groans. But it was hard to hate her with those dimples.

Hugging her knees to her chest, Emma stole a quick break when they switched to the other leg. Then she obediently pressed both feet into the little rubber ball, arching up into a bridge.

“Now raise your left leg,” Katie instructed.

When Emma took one foot off the ball, it rocketed away from her, straight into Little Miss Perfect on the front row. She struggled to her feet to retrieve the ball, but the girl threw it back. “Sorry!” Emma mouthed.

“No problem,” the girl answered, shrugging her shoulders and smiling warmly. “Welcome back,” she said in a stage whisper.

Through the rest of the hour, Emma stole glances at Little Miss Perfect. Maybe she wasn’t as stuck-up as she looked, despite her perfectly coordinated exercise wear and her impossibly smooth blonde ponytail—not to mention her impeccable makeup and flawless manicured nails.

Her own nails were ragged, and her hair was probably greasy. Had the other girl noticed her disheveled appearance? She ducked out the moment they’d finished their stretches, but she wasn’t ready to leave the gym. Tomorrow she’d probably be too sore to walk, but right now she felt better than she had in weeks.

Just before she reached the main exit, she veered to the right and selected a treadmill. She was fiddling with the program, trying to figure out how to set the incline, when someone climbed onto the machine to her left. Little Miss Perfect!

“It’s good to see you again.”

“Thank you,” Emma said, her voice trailing off awkwardly because she should know this girl’s name after over a year in the same class.

“What’s your name again?” the girl asked.

Relief washed over her. “Emma.”

“And I’m Aubrey. Nice to meet you.” She extended her hand, and Emma shook it. “Do you know how to work this thing?”

“No. Maybe you just hit Start.” Emma punched the green button, and the belt began turning and slowly picked up speed. Aubrey followed her lead.

They walked for a few minutes before Aubrey broke the silence. “So where have you been? You never miss Pilates.”

“I was in Indiana for a couple of weeks.”

“Oh, on vacation?

“No, at my sister’s funeral. She and her husband died in a wreck.”

Aubrey gasped and lost step, then caught herself on the bar. “I’m so sorry!”

Emma couldn’t resist adding, “And then my husband left me.” Her voice was flat, yet she had a mad desire to laugh. This poor girl would probably think twice before making small talk with a stranger again.

“Wow!” Aubrey shook her head, her eyes filling with tears. “I wish I knew what to say.”

“It’s okay,” Emma answered with a slight shrug. She jabbed one of the plus signs, and the base rose, gears rumbling. She held onto the bar as she labored uphill.

“I can’t believe I let the ball get away from me,” Emma said without looking at Aubrey. “I was so embarrassed when it hit you.”

“Oh, that was nothing. I’ll tell you what’s really embarrassing. Remember that poor lady back in January who farted during Rolling Like a Ball?”

Emma broke into laughter. “You heard it… too?” she choked out.

“Of course. How could I miss it? I wanted to tell her, ‘Hey, these things happen.’ But I thought it would be better to pretend I hadn't heard.”

“She never came back, did she?” Emma wiped the tears from her eyes and turned to face Aubrey. “Thanks. I needed that.”

“You’re welcome.” Aubrey drew in a breath and squared her shoulders, looking as nervous and determined as the last interviewee  Emma had hired as an administrative assistant. “What do you say we get off the treadmill and go have some ice cream? I mean, organic whey protein smoothies?”

Emma hit the Stop button. “Ice cream. Definitely ice cream.”

***

Over turkey pitas and frozen yogurt, Emma told Aubrey the whole story just has she’d done the night before with Trixie. And this time it was a little easier, though she ended up crying in front of a stranger.

“I’m sorry,” she said, blowing her nose on a napkin. “I don’t know why I’m telling you all this.”

“It’s okay. I only wish I had the answers for you.”

Emma sniffled. ‘I think I just need someone to listen.”

“Then I’m your girl.”

***

Things were pretty tense back at the office on Monday, but Emma was surprised at how much better working made her feel. Or maybe it was the relief of sharing her story with Aubrey.

Whatever the reason, she found herself humming that evening while she walked Trixie. And when Trixie lunged at the neighbors’ Yorkie, yanking Emma’s arm across her body and pulling her to her knees, she just laughed. “You big lug. What am I gonna do with you?”

Back at the house, she flipped on the porch light and sat at the picnic table with the latest journal. Trixie squeezed her nose under the arm of the chair and laid her head in Emma’s lap.

Emma gave her a pat and then shoved her off. “Let’s see what’s happening with Rachel and Evan.”

Friday 2/26/99 PMI don’t think I’ll be here much longer. I’m getting so tired of this creaky twin bed, though I have to admit I’ll miss Mom’s cooking.
Evan and I have been seeing each other two or three times a week for the last month. I think we’ve done more talking in that time than we did in five years of marriage.

Last night we talked about our dreams for the future. Not surprisingly, his don’t include another factory job. I asked him why he doesn’t go to med school, but he said he’s too old now, and he’s not sure he wants that anymore anyway. But at least he’s thinking about other options.

It means a lot to him that I’m willing to support him if he goes back to school. I hate it that I never offered before, nor even noticed how miserable he was.
 Thursday 3/11/99 PMI didn’t expect to be at Mom’s so long. I don’t understand it. Things are good with Evan, I think. But when I asked him when he thinks we might get back together, he said he needs more time. He’s figuring things out, he says.

What does that mean? I thought I was the one who needed to figure out if I wanted to be married. I did. I do. So why is he dragging his feet?

Emma pushed her chair under the table and knelt to scratch Trixie’s ears. “I hope Joe figures out that we belong together.”

Trixie gazed up at her adoringly, her tail thumping against the flagstone deck.

“If he ever talks to me again, I’ll tell him he’s the man I want to be with…. In the meantime, I’m sure glad you’re here to keep me company.”

***

When Emma arrived at her Thursday night Pilates class—early, this time—Aubrey waved her over to the spot next to her on the front row.

“You look great!” she said.

“Thanks!” Emma smiled at herself in the wall of mirrors. She was wearing her favorite fuchsia and black workout clothes, two coats of nail polish, and a touch of lip gloss.

“Are you feeling better, too?”

Emma unrolled her mat with a snap and sat cross-legged on it.  “Yes, I guess I am, though nothing’s changed.”

“I’m going to hang out at Café Bohemia after class. Want to come? I’d like to hear about your week.”

“I’d better check my calendar.” Emma flipped through an imaginary datebook. “Let’s see… I’ve got absolutely nothing planned. It’s a date.”

***

Emma and Aubrey lingered over lattes until nearly 10:00, when the pony-tailed young man mopping around their feet ceased all efforts to hide his dirty looks. After that they stood in front of Emma’s car for another hour.

Emma learned that Aubrey was a nurse at a pediatric hospital, that she’d never been married, and that she was between boyfriends. She learned that they had the same taste in music and movies, but held mostly opposite political views. And she learned that Aubrey was a fervent Christian.

“You should come to church with me,” Aubrey said casually.

Emma backed up, bumping into her car door. “I don’t know. I’m not really…. Maybe someday.”

She thought about Aubrey’s invitation all the way home. Would it hurt to go check it out? But then she thought back to her discomfort at the funeral. Maybe she wasn’t the churchgoing type. What good had praying done—except maybe to give her a better appreciation for Trixie?

No, she didn’t need to add anything else into her mixed up life. If there were any chance of salvaging it, it was up to her to make it right.

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