Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 101168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 101168 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 506(@200wpm)___ 405(@250wpm)___ 337(@300wpm)
“So I’m not interested in spending time with you guys if I have to compromise who I am to be accepted by you. I’ll be polite in public, of course. Haven’t I always? But you guys go ahead and give me a call if you ever decide that you’d like to know me. Me. Not the kid you hoped you’d have or the adult you hoped that kid would turn out to be.”
Their parents looked at each other, as if unsure how to proceed in this new dynamic.
“Good night,” they said and walked away before their parents could reply.
Heart pounding, Jamie didn’t slow down, even when they realized they were walking the wrong way; they kept going until they found doors to burst through, and then they burst through them.
“Whoa.” Emma jumped out of the way to avoid a collision. She was smoking a cigarette and drinking a glass of red wine.
Jamie swore. “Sorry. Shouldn’t you be at that spa thing?”
Emma rolled her eyes. “I can’t be around people for one more second tonight.” Her speech was softly slurred. “Is everyone gone?”
“Mom and Dad were still in the room.”
“I’m avoiding them,” she said conspiratorially.
“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Jamie asked, amused.
“Because they’re driving me fucking crazy, why else?”
“Cheers to that,” Jamie said.
Emma passed them the wineglass and sat on a marble bench. Jamie followed.
“Was your boyfriend okay?” Emma asked.
“Yeah.” Jamie sighed. “Listen, I’m sorry. For disappearing earlier. He needed me. Good cake, by the way.”
“Dad picked it.”
“The frosting was shit.”
Jamie passed the wine back and took a joint out of a case in their pocket. They’d rolled it with rose petals in a silver paper and dipped the end in keef. They lit it and offered it to Emma.
“I haven’t smoked weed in so long,” she said on the exhale. “Dave says it makes me paranoid.”
“Paranoid about things he might be doing that you don’t like?” Jamie asked.
“Why do you always have to criticize him?” Emma said, standing up. She took another hit. She looked like she wanted to flounce away but offered the joint to Jamie instead. “You criticize everything.”
“A lot of things are shit,” Jamie said. “But I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. I’m sorry you overheard me. Earlier, with Mom? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
They handed the joint back to Emma. The temperature seemed to drop five degrees from one breeze to the next. Autumn was truly in the air.
Emma inhaled appreciatively too, and Jamie remembered that once, they had shared a love of this time of year. She plopped back down on the bench next to Jamie.
“You didn’t hurt me. Of course I knew you didn’t care about this wedding. I have known you, like, most of my life. I…I wish we were close, but we’re not. It is what it is.”
They passed the joint back and forth, and then Jamie crushed it under their boot heel, a tiny sparkle of silver like a fallen star.
“It’s not that easy for me either, you know,” Emma said after a long silence. “With Mom.”
Jamie straightened back up. “You never said. You always acted like you wanted to be exactly like her. Follow in her footsteps. Have her same haircut.” They elbowed her in the ribs.
Emma whirled around. “I do not have her haircut!” She shrieked, patting her hair.
Jamie laughed. “Emma, come on. It’s identical.”
“That’s not even funny, you little shit,” Emma said, scrambling to grab her phone from her bag at the base of the bench. “She has a frozen old lady wig, and I have a French bob.”
But she was stoned, and her balance was off, so she just succeeded in pushing it farther away and gave up.
Jamie bit their lip but couldn’t keep from laughing.
“Yeah, well. I don’t want to be her. It’s easier to go along with her until she burns herself out. I save my energy for battles I care about.”
“Like what?” Jamie asked. They hadn’t realized Emma had any battles with their parents.
“Can you keep a secret?”
“From Mom and Dad? Of course.”
Emma looked around cautiously, as if Blythe or Hank might be lurking behind a topiary or urn.
“We’re going to move next year. After Dave’s contract is up.” She rolled her eyes fondly. “Dave wants to open a winery. And I don’t really know what I want, but I’m going to figure it out on my own.”
Jamie’s mouth fell open. “You’re not joining the political legacy?”
“Nope.”
“And you’re gonna be a…vintner? Is that the word?”
Emma raised an eyebrow. “Guess so. Until I figure out what else I want to do.”
Jamie’s mind was reeling. “Shit, Em. I really know nothing about you either, do I?”
Emma looked like she was going to make a joke and laugh it off, but sadness flickered in her eyes. “Probably not,” she said.
“Dave must be really loaded, huh?” they observed.