“You swear all the goddamn time!”
“You know what? You’re grounded until further notice. Leave your phone on the coffee table. And there will be no laptop and no TV until you’re honest about what happened tonight.” “Well, I guess I’ll be grounded forever because I already told you the truth and you don’t believe me.” She slams her phone down on the coffee table. “Stop covering for your friends, Emme. They’re not going to help you out of this one.” “Fuck you! You’re not my dad and you never will be, so stop pretending you are.” She clenches her fists, eye wild and angry. “I wish I’d been in the car with them when they died. It would be better than living with you!” Her words feel like punches to the heart. “Emme! Don’t say that.” She pauses with her hand on the banister, tears streaming down her face. “Why not? You want me to be honest, right? Well, I hate everything about being here. I hate living with you! I hate you!” My chest constricts with her admission, and I stumble back a step as if the words are a physical slap. Her eyes flare and she spins around, her sobs stilted as she rushes up the stairs. The door to her room slams. I close my eyes and choke on my emotions. I want to force Emme to take her words back. I want to make sense of what happened tonight. But the reality is, if I’d been paying more attention to something other than my own needs, I might have seen it. I cross over to the couch and sit down, pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes, as if it will stop the emotion from leaking out. I don’t know what to do, or how to fix this. I slip my phone out of my pocket. I have a message from Kailyn. Her response matches mine. One single word. A simple thanks. God, I’ve screwed this up, too. My entire life is one giant clusterfuck. I want to ask Kailyn how to make this better, but maybe that’s the problem. Maybe I’ve been relying too much on her when I should be trying to manage on my own. I stare at the screen until it goes blank again. Then I sit on the couch, eyes fixed on nothing, wishing my life were different. I’ve ruined everything. Every single thing I’ve done tonight has made this worse. Linda will undoubtedly use it against me, and maybe she has a right to. I knock on Emme’s door before I go to bed, but she doesn’t answer. I peek inside and find her curled up under her comforter with her back to the door. “Em? I’m sorry I yelled at you.” She remains silent, even though I have a feeling she’s still awake. I cross the room and put a hand on her shoulder. She jerks away. “Leave me alone.” “Em.” “Just go away.” Her body trembles as she fights another sob. I don’t want to leave, but I don’t know what else to do for her without making this terrible situation even worse. I close the door and sit down in the hall, listening to her cry, wishing I knew how to be better at this. The next morning I discover just how early in life the wrath of women begins. I figure after a night to cool off and some sleep, we’ll be able to talk it out. Emme’s laptop is in the hallway when I wake up, which I take as a good sign. I assume it to mean she’s willing to accept the consequences of her actions without a fight. I also stupidly believe it means a conversation without yelling is next. Oh, how wrong I am. Emme won’t come out of her room for anything. Not even food. By dinnertime on Saturday I’m fed up with the standoff. I open the door to her room and find her lying in her bed, facing the wall, exactly as she was last night. I have to wonder if she’s moved at all. “You have to eat.” “I’m not hungry.” “I’m not leaving this room until you come downstairs and eat something.” “Fine. Stand there all night for all I care.” “You can be angry at me and hate me all you want, but you’re not going to starve yourself.” My voice breaks at the hate me part. She stiffens but her shoulders deflate and she rolls over. “Fine.” Her hair is a wild mess, and she still has streaks of black eyeliner rimming her eyes, which are puffy and red. I’m pretty sure I look almost the same, minus the eyeliner. She stomps past me and I follow her to the kitchen. “I ordered pizza.” “I’ll have cereal, thanks.” She opens the fridge, pulls out the milk and a box of crappy sugary stuff, slamming it down on the table. I lean against the counter as she grabs a bowl and spoon and crosses over to the island. She doesn’t bother to sit down. Instead, she pours herself a bowl and shovels it into her mouth, barely chewing. I imagine she’s starving and this standoff is meant to torment me. Once she’s inhaled the cereal, she puts everything away, staunchly avoiding eye contact. “We can’t fix this problem if you’re not talking to me, Emme.” “Why should I bother? You don’t believe anything I say, anyway.” “I need an answer that makes sense, Emme.” “Well, I don’t have one, so I guess there’s nothing to say.” And with that she stomps back up to her room and slams her door. I’ve about had it with the damn door slamming. Even though I’m not particularly hungry, I nab a slice of pizza and flop down on the couch. Emme’s phone is still where I left it. The screen flashes with an incoming message. She has loads of them from her friends from last night, one from that Jimmy kid and about fifteen from Clark. After a conversation about privacy and me being responsible for her phone bills, she grudgingly gave me her password and free rein to check her messages. As I scroll, I note a message from Kailyn. I key in the code and check the message. It was sent last night, probably around the same time I dropped Kailyn off. I was a complete asshole to her, and haven’t heard from her at all today. I assume she’s giving me space. Usually when I go through messages Emme is here with me so it feels a lot less like I’m snooping. Guilt creeps up the back of my neck as I read through the last messages to Kailyn.