The Rest Will Come Page 15

  “So he wakes up from a coma in the middle of the zombie apocalypse?” she asked.

  “Pretty much.”

  “Wow. That might be the worst thing ever.”

  “Definitely. Especially when you’re trying to run from zombies with your ass hanging out of a hospital gown.”

  “I would think that is the least of his worries.”

  “Sure, he has to figure out why all these zombies are trying to eat him and what has happened to his family, but no one wants the giblets dangling loose while battling the undead.”

  The doorbell interrupted a very tense standoff with gasping and clawing corpses. Jamal paused the show with a zombie mouth spread wide, cheek rotted away to reveal stained teeth. He spread the takeout cartons over the coffee table and handed Emma a set of chopsticks. He sat back down and reengaged the show.

  “Is it weird to be chowing down while watching people get torn apart by zombies?” Emma asked after she finished chewing.

  “Nah. I mean they’re chowing down, why shouldn’t we? Speaking of, that is one dead guy. Kiss.”

  With lo mein still rolling among her molars, Emma pressed her greased lips shut and quickly against Jamal’s. While the zombies feasted on the television, they matched the sounds as they dug into the Chinese containers.

  Emma’s brain detached and climbed more into the post-apocalyptic world in the show with each passing scene. She noticed Jamal’s tightening clutch and her reduced personal space. She chose to ignore that he held her like Justin once had.

  Her eyebrows drew toward the bridge of her nose. Her forehead compiled on top of her brow slowly. She did not think it was the suspense of the looming zombie horde crawling across her face. Something felt off the longer she remained tangled in Jamal and gave him the quick kisses prompted by the plotline. This was the affection she had been longing for each cold night in her dark, empty house. While she sat alone on her couch. When she set her hand on the shifter in her car and no one was there to hold it. The gorgeous man she required was holding her exactly like she used to love. However, somewhere beneath the pleasant hum on her nerves, it felt stifling.

  What is wrong with me?

  Blood sprayed across the screen and Emma closed her eyes to forfeit another kiss.

  This is what I want. He is the one I wanted. It just feels so rushed, so hollow. It feels like Justin.

  With his name on the folds of her brain, it hit her.

  It feels like lies. But his lies or Justin’s? Am I ever going to be over him?

  With Jamal’s face so close to hers, the emotion welled up in her eyes. The frustration roasted from the pit of her stomach down her extremities. She felt trapped, restrained by Jamal’s contrived affection and bound by Justin’s transgressions and damage. She wanted to shed her skin in a pile on Jamal’s uncomfortable couch and run a screaming, bloody mess out of the unpacked apartment.

  Breathe. Just breathe, you psycho. You can’t have a family if you don’t move on. You have to move on. Jamal is not Justin.

  When the ending credits of an episode scrolled, Jamal lifted the controller and froze them in place.

  “Intense, right?” he said, releasing her from his side embrace and sitting forward.

  “Super intense. They just kill off everybody, don’t they?”

  “They definitely do. Don’t go getting attached to any characters.”

  “Whoa! Spoilers.”

  “I didn’t say anything. Yet. Hey, I realized that I haven’t given you the full tour.”

  “The full tour of your one-bedroom apartment?”

  “Yeah. Here, let me show you.”

  Jamal stood and snagged Emma’s fingertips in his, dragging her gently behind him.

  “This is the living room, obviously,” he started. “You’ve already seen this room. Over here is the kitchen. Well, it’s back there among the boxes somewhere. It’s pretty tight. I don’t cook much, so that shouldn’t be a problem. It will get the job done. Down the hall this way is the bathroom, which you have already also seen. In this closet is the washer and dryer. And this is my bedroom, where all the magic happens.”

  Emma stifled a choke in her throat. Jamal released her hand and sat down on the bed in front of her, patting the vacant space beside him invitingly.

  “Why don’t you come over here and check out this mattress?”

  Emma held her breath to not laugh and flexed her eyelids hard to prevent her eyes from rolling around their sockets.

  Okay. Maybe he is Justin.

  Emma shook her head as the apartment door closed behind her. She discovered that her head continued to sway in dazed confusion when she sat down and slipped her key into the ignition.

  Why am I surprised? Why the hell am I shocked? He’s a hot jerk. And he acted like a hot jerk. Just like I knew he was going to. I knew he was going to throw me some pathetic, cliché play the entire day. I still sat there. I still wanted him to be the guy.

  On her drive home, Emma did not know if she was shaking her head at his ridiculous line or the fact that she had stayed there long enough to hear it.

  ***

  “At least you didn’t sleep with him,” Ronnie said as she unloaded the baby from the car seat in Emma’s living room. “Old Emma would have sat right down and checked out that mattress.” Ronnie let a giggle ripple out from her chest.

  “Shut up,” Emma said. “I mean, you’re right. Old Emma would have married him.”

  “Did marry him.”

  “Whatever.”

  “So you’re growing. That’s a good thing. There’s progress. Now pour me a half glass of that wine. I can’t have you drinking alone.”

  “Ronnie with a half glass. Who would have ever guessed?”

  “Can it.”

  “I feel like I’m never going to find the guy.”

  “You only started this online dating thing. You’ve only been on literally one weekend of dates. You have to stop trying so hard. You can’t make someone the guy. What about the other two?”

  “Rick.”

  “The dog park guy?”

  “Yeah. He just kind of vanished. Like at the end of the date, he said he wanted to go out again. We messaged a little bit back and forth, never set anything up. Then poof.”

  “You don’t want yet another poofer.”

  “No. I wasn’t super into him, so I’m kind of letting him go.”

  “So there’s the meathead?”

  “Yes. Drew.”

  “What’s happening with him?”

  “He actually messages me pretty consistently. He has even called me after our date. We’re supposed to go out again. I have to get my schedule tomorrow and see when I can actually squeeze in a date.”

  “Ah. See? One is still in play. How long is this three job bullshit going to last?”

  “As long as it has to I guess. I can’t pay the mortgage with one job, and there is so much debt from Justin.”

  “Why don’t you sell the house? File for bankruptcy? Something.”

  “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “I don’t want to. This is my house. I made this my house after Justin insisted we get a new one. I love this house. I wanted to have my children in this house. And the debt is my mistake too. I let him charge all that stuff on cards in my name. This is my mess. I want to get out of it myself.”

  “That’s admirable, sweetie, but shouldn’t there be some kind of pain point, a threshold where it’s not worth teaching yourself a lesson? You could start over with a bankruptcy. Your credit wouldn’t be any more worse off.”

  “No. I’ll get there on my own.”

  “I believe you will, but how are you going to have any sort of life, meet any sort of person, and have a relationship if you are working so much you don’t even have time to sleep? Especially when you refuse to date anyone you meet through your three jobs.”

  “I don’t know.”

  ***

  The weeks dating Drew passed steadily and uneventfully enough for a cauti
ous optimism to bloom somewhere beneath Emma’s depression. One small leaf arching up into the darkness above. She did not find him underwhelmingly platonic like Rick, nor did she find him blatantly empty like Jamal. Somewhere between a good guy she should have been attracted to and a gorgeous man who would only rip her heart again, she gently hoped Drew was the compromise between them.

  Each week, Emma contorted between her schedules to carve out a brief window for a date that did not occur when normal people would be sleeping. She concealed the dark circles of exhaustion beneath her energy drink infused eyes with makeup and smiled wide with anticipation when they met at the gym after his shift for protein shakes or caught an evening matinee action movie or when he made her flavorless macro driven meals in his condo.

  Gladys knew him by name rather than a random identifier, though Ronnie referred to him as Meathead. He had been in the picture long enough for Brendan to ask about him while he filled up his coffee without Emma having to tell him how Drew had vanished and she was trying something else new. Hope grew in her like a cancer, and she became comfortable enough in the idea of him to promote him to the next level.

  Meeting Ronnie and Terrence.

  “Why are you so goddamn nervous?” Ronnie cackled as she watched Emma meticulously arrange and rearrange the table.

  “Because meeting you guys is a big step, and I’m scared to hope it will work out. This time around, the guy needs to get along with my friends. I don’t want to have to have two separate lives again.”

  “Aw, I’m so flattered!”

  “Don’t be a bitch.”

  “I’m not. Stop cleaning. No one’s house is this clean and organized. At this point, you need to sell him reality.”

  “I clean when I’m nervous.”

  “I know. Stop it. It is just a casual dinner with friends. There is a baby here for Christ’s sake.”

  “I think I am more nervous about this than I would be taking him home to my mom or to Noah.”

  “That’s because your mom and brother won’t tell it to you like I will.”

  “Exactly.”

  “Breathe, Emma. Just breathe.”

  “Em, if he makes you happy, we’re going to like him,” Terrence said. Both Ronnie and Emma shot him a look of sharp disbelief. “Fine, if he makes you happy, I’ll like him. Ronnie will do, you know, whatever the hell she wants.”

  The doorbell echoed through the house, and the three froze. Emma grew rigid, and her eyes widened. She moved to twitch toward the door when Ronnie stepped in front of her.

  “Look at me,” Ronnie said. “Take a breath and relax your eyes a little bit. Better. Okay, now go.”

  Ronnie and Terrence were giggling behind her on her walk to her front door. Drew stood on the other side holding a small bouquet of flowers and a bottle of wine. His normally enticing grin stretched more strained across his cheeks, mild panic igniting his eyes.

  “I didn’t know what to bring,” he said as Emma guided him into the house. “I’m not sure why; I’m nervous tonight.”

  The tension in her face dissolved by half. Her posture relented and allowed her shoulders to descend from their clutch beside her earlobes.

  “I’m so relieved you said that. I thought I was being ridiculous.”

  “You talk about them all the time. It’s, like, worse than meeting your parents.”

  “That’s what I said!” Emma whispered so Ronnie and Terrence could not hear them.

  They both laughed, authentic smiles gracing their cheeks. Emma took his hand more confidently and led him through her house into the kitchen. They walked in to Ronnie holding Josiah against her chest while Terrence leaned in to pretend to eat his belly. The blob-like infant faintly registered the attack and tried to muster a grin in response.

  “Guys, this is Drew. Drew, this is Ronnie, Terrence, and this is Josiah,” Emma said.

  “Hi. It’s really good to meet you guys. Emma talks about you guys all the time,” Drew said.

  Drew moved around the counter and shook Terrence’s hand firmly while looking him in the eye. Then he turned to Ronnie. She shifted Josiah to liberate a hand to meet his. Drew even took a second to crouch down to Josiah’s level and greet him individually. Emma nodded approvingly behind him, a rush of relief swelling beneath her skin.

  They sat around the table. Terrence took Josiah from Ronnie and balanced the infant on his thigh in front of his plate. Emma moved to the oven to extract the steaming dish of homemade macaroni and cheese. The aroma of the meal instantly consumed the room, became palpable in the air.

  “I know, it’s not in your macros,” Emma joked as she dropped a scoop onto Drew’s plate.

  “That’s okay, I made sure today was a cheat day. This looks like a great way to cheat.” He took in the food then beamed up at her.

  “So, Drew,” Ronnie said between bites, “do you watch what you eat and macros and all that as part of being a personal trainer, or are you working toward another goal?”

  “When I was married, I got kind of fluffy. When I got divorced, one of the first things I wanted to do was cut weight and tone up. That’s how I started on the personal training thing. It allowed me to focus on fitness. When I’m preaching that kind of eating every day, it felt right to be practicing it myself. Then it kind of became habit. I have also started looking into competing.”

  “Like bodybuilding?” Terrence asked.

  “Not any Arnold Schwarzenegger level, but yeah.”

  “What is the appeal? Is it the aesthetic appearance you are going for or is it the competition?” Ronnie asked.

  “I guess part of it is that I do want to look a certain way. I mean, a bodybuilding competition is about how you look. More than that, though, I think I want the challenge, the goal to focus on.”

  Emma watched Ronnie watching Drew as she slowly flayed him into pieces with her seemingly innocuous questions. The questions sounded so gentle, appeared conversational. Emma knew from experience that she was lifting one layer of him with each answer acquired. Emma recognized the coldly analytical look on Ronnie’s face while she attempted to glean the interpretations whirling below the stoic surface.

  “So what do you guys do?” Drew asked.

  “I’m a mechanical engineer,” Terrence answered.

  “My wife worked at TechServices.” Drew paused. “Ex-wife,” he corrected. “What about you, Ronnie?”

  “Let’s not talk about the soulless, boring work I do. Between that and the delicious dinner, we’ll all be asleep at the table.”

  Josiah writhed in Terrence’s arms, arching his tiny back and clumsily mashing his fists at his eyes. His cries began softly then quickly built, undermining the conversation. He rocked his tiny head back and forth, mouth wagging open.

  “Uh oh, Momma,” Terrence said. “Looks like he’s hungry.”

  “He’s breathing, so he must be hungry. Let me nurse him real quick, and we can take him home to bed. Emma, do you mind if I use your room to not make it super awkward for us all?”

  “Sure,” Emma replied.

  When Ronnie came back down the stairs, Josiah was already snoozing in her arms, milk drunk. Ronnie tucked him into his car seat.

  “It was nice to meet you, Drew,” she said after slipping on her coat.

  “Yeah, man, nice to meet you,” Terrence echoed.

  “Thanks. Glad to meet both of you.” Drew shook Terrence’s hand once more.

  Emma pressed her palm to the door as she closed it behind them, her chest swelling with reckless elation. The smile stretched at her cheeks as a portion of the hole in her stomach contracted, making her a little less empty, a little less consumed. In that brief victory, she nearly felt normal. She tried to temper her grin before facing Drew.

  His face reflected hers. Without contemplation, Emma simply walked forward and plunged into him. She wrapped her arms around his neck and dove into his kiss. He reacted fiercely, reciprocating the hunger in her touch. She paused and pulled away from him to catch her breath and guide h
im upstairs.

  ***

  “Tell me what you think,” Emma said to Ronnie the next day.

  Ronnie sat at one of the tables at Happy Beans to synchronize with Emma’s break. She held a steaming cup of decaffeinated tea in one hand and a bobbling Josiah in the other.

  “I liked him.” Ronnie looked down briefly and set down her cup.

  “But?”

  “But I don’t think he’s over his divorce. He called his ex his wife. He’s focused on superficial pursuits to find meaning for himself. I think he’s still floundering and recovering, which is fine and completely natural, but I worry that means he isn’t quite ready for what you want.”

  “Ugh, I don’t want to hear that. I really like him. I had this feeling last night that this could work.”

  “So you slept with him.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Hey, I could be wrong. I only had dinner with the man.”

  “You’re never wrong.”

  “This is true, although there’s a first time for everything. Don’t let my judgement sway you. Just be cautious. Keep it in mind.”

  “As if I could keep anything else in mind right now.”

  Emma’s chest deflated beneath her. She worried that Ronnie could visibly see her shrink back down into the darkness as the weight of the depression spread over her again. She had wanted Ronnie to tell her how amazing she thought Drew was, how he was not a douchebag, how he would work out great for Emma.

  It’s only her opinion. She doesn’t know him. It could still work. He could still be the guy. What does Ronnie know?

  She already felt the doubt beginning to coil around her heart, felt it infiltrating and poisoning the edges of her thoughts.

  When Drew arrived at her house after her shift, she stripped off her coffee stained uniform and pulled herself on top of him as if she had not talked to Ronnie at all.

  ***

  Two weeks later, Emma rested her head on Drew’s swollen pecs as they reclined on his couch. The weight of sleep was pressing on her forehead, making her eyelids heavier. She had already worked six shifts in the first four days of the week, only sneaking a handful of hours in her bed. Her body was weary, her cells chanted in sedative unison. She tried to concentrate on how nice it was to bask in his attention rather than how comfortable she was laying against him, how easily she could slip off to sleep on him.