The table was quiet aside from the clinking of silverware on plate and the occasional glass hitting the table just right. Brian watched Emma as she pushed her food around on her plate, one hand absently holding the edge of her fisherman's cap. Her lips were pursed, her eyes solidly concentrated on her plate, never wandering up to meet his. He chewed his food, only half hearing what little smattering of conversation Molly was trying to hold up - basically rambling to herself for everyone else to hear. He took a swallow of ice water.
Finally, Brian cleared his throat. "Look it's obvious we're all skirting around the elephant in the room here," he said. He pushed his chair back to a more comfortable distance from the table and folded his hands over the arm rests. He took a deep breath. "Did you bring copies of the medical bills with you tonight? Did you total them up?"
Molly hesitated. "Yes," she said finally.
Emma glanced at Molly. They'd discussed whether they should do that or not and Emma had insisted that Molly not prepare anything. Emma didn't want to look assuming. Molly, however, had done it anyways. Emma gave Molly The Look and Molly shrugged as she pulled a plastic file from her oversized bag and passed it to Jake, who handed it to Brian.
Brian opened the file and glanced inside. He looked up. "Okay, so here's what I want to do," he said, and he tossed the file onto a chair behind him. He looked from Molly to Emma, unsure which of them was the 'spokesperson'. He finally decided on Emma. He stared at the side of her face, even though she kept her eyes adverted from his, even though she stared down at her plate the whole time he spoke, "When you get a bill, I want you to send it here and I'll take care of it directly with the medical provider."
Molly's eyes welled up, "Are you serious?"
"Yes," Brian answered, "No cash from my hand to yours, only to the medical provider. Does that sound fair?"
Emma swallowed and folded her hands on her lap. She felt sick to her stomach. She'd never been able to accept things gracefully from people - even birthday gifts and Christmas presents were awkwardly received with Emma. She couldn't bear to look up at Brian, even as her mind coached her how incredibly rude she was being not to be jumping up and down thanking him. She just couldn't do it. She felt petrified and sick and obligated - though what to, she didn't know.
"Thank you," Molly's words were deep, reverent.
Emma stood up quickly and let herself out the back doors of the house into the yard and the night air.
Brian, Molly and Jake all watched her go. Molly turned red, "I'm sorry," she said to Brian. She started dabbing her mouth, "I'll go get her," she declared. But just as she started to stand to go, Brian shook his head.
"No you finish eating," he said, "I'll go." He tossed his napkin down and headed for the doors as well.
Molly looked at Jake, a nervous expression in her eyes. Jake reached over and clasped Molly's hand in his own and gave it a little squeeze.
Emma was standing on the clear opposite side of the land behind the Harris house, her hands wrapped around herself, her head hung and crystal tears slipping down her cheeks. Brian walked up behind her and hovered a few feet away. She could feel him there, knew it was him by the tone of his breathing, though the pace was different than she remembered it. After a long moment, she said, "You breathe differently now."
"More shallow," he agreed. "I had heart surgery in 1998," Brian explained, "And I just never really breathed as deeply as I once did." He stuck his hands into his pockets. "I can't believe you noticed."
"I used to love listening to you breathe," Emma said quietly. "All those times we watched movies or went star gazing... I just sat and listened to your breath. It was so relaxing and comforting." She dropped her arms, "It was one of the things I always imagined when I pictured us married," she said, "I pictured laying in bed on Sunday morning before church and listening to your breathing."
Brian swallowed. "I'm sorry," he said quietly, "For leaving."
"You followed your dream," Emma answered. "Don't apologize for following your dream. I'm glad you got your dream."
Brian inched closer. "Did you get your dream?"
Emma turned around and smiled sadly, "How could I? My dream was our plan."
Brian felt his heart crack. He stepped close enough to wrap his arms around her, and he stared down at her eyes, "You deserved better," he whispered.
Emma shook her head.
Brian reached for the edge of the fishing cap, but her hands flew up to hold it in place. "Don't," she whispered.
"Why?" he asked.
"I'm bald," she whispered, "Other than this." Her finger tips moved the strands that hung in her face.
"I don't care." Brian reached for the hat and pulled it off. Her scalp was pale and covered with the finest downy peach fuzz of hair he'd ever seen. Only a couple of strands remained, the ones that hung out from underneath the hat. If he'd been forced to make a comparison, he would've mentioned Gollum from the Lord of the Rings, but he felt cruel even thinking the words. Emma's eyes filled with tears as she stared up at him. He dropped the cap onto the ground beside them and stared down at her. "You're beautiful," he whispered, "Don't cry."
Emma pulled away from him, picked up the hat and pulled it back onto her head before turning away. She wrapped her arms back around herself and lowered to a squat on the grass. She rocked herself in a soft sort of way. "I'm sorry Molly brought this all to you," she said. She reached down and grabbed a handful of grass from the ground. Emma glanced at him. She shook her head, "You're too late."
"I'm not," he answered, lowering next to her, "You're here, aren't you?"
Emma laughed and looked down at the ground. "I already gave up, Brian," she whispered. "I'm not scared or nothing, you know? I just wish it wasn't so hard to let everyone down. Molly, I mean. By dying."
"You can't give up," Brian replied, "Not as long as there are people that love you. Not until those people tell you that you're allowed to give up."
Emma dropped the grass. "You aren't allowed to talk about people who love me, Brian."
"I meant Molly," Brian answered, "And Jake."
Emma took a deep, shaking breath. "Did you even try to call me?"
"What?"
"When you left to go to Florida with Kevin," Emma said, "Did you even try to call me to tell me? Did you even think about everything we'd planned and dreamt of? Did you miss me?"
Brian picked up some of the grass she'd thrown down and started working on tearing it apart. He watched his progress. "Yes," he said quietly. "I missed you." He looked up at her. "The first night I spent in Kev's apartment in Orlando, I laid there on the bed staring up at the ceiling wondering about you."
"Only the first night? How heart broken you must've been," Emma's words came out sharp and sarcastic. She stood up. "Forget it, Brian."
"Em," he reached up for her hand and caught it before she could get too far. "That wasn't the only time, Emma," he said. "It's just -- I can still feel the way your name seared my heart that night every time I thought it."
"So why didn't you call?" she questioned, "Why didn't you give me a chance to join you, to go with you? I mean we were going to go to Tennessee and get married and get an apartment and work for a living. Why couldn't we have done that all in Florida? Why did going to Florida end our dreams?"
"I was scared, Em," Brian replied.
"Scared to marry me?"
"Scared of life," Brian answered, "I was scared of everything unknown."
"So you threw away the only constant?" Emma asked.
Brian's eyes burned with the threat of tears. "I don't know why I did what I did. There's no excuses. If I could take it back... if I could fix it... Emma, you need to believe me that I would. But so much has happened."
Emma sighed. "Brian, I'm sorry. You must feel so caught up in the middle here. Molly had no right coming to you, no right to tell you that I was sick. If she'd just left you alone, you never would've had to know..."
"I would've wondered," Brian said.
Emma shook her head, "I don't believe that, Brian. You don't need to help me, Brian," she said. And with that sentence hanging in the air, she headed back to the dining room.
