"They made up," Sara offered with a shrug. "Couples fight and make up all the time. What's the big deal?"
"He's leaving to go to grad school at USC," I explained. "My mother's in love with him."
"Does she know?"
"Yes," I told her, "but she wants to be with him until he leaves."
"Why is that so bad?" It was obvious she didn't understand my concern.
"I'll be gone when he leaves," I continued.
"And you're worried about her being alone?"
I nodded, biting my lip to keep the tears from forming. It ate at me in the pit of my stomach, fearing what my mother would do in her isolated misery. I didn't want her to have to go through it without me.
Sara and I stopped by the house first thing in the morning to pick up my books. Thankfully, the house was empty. I avoided my mother and Jonathan that entire day, staying in my room, out of their sight.
And I thought I'd timed it perfectly when I left for school the next morning, emerging from my room right after my mother had pulled out of the driveway. But as I headed down the stairs, I heard the refrigerator door close and realized Jonathan was still home. I paused in frustration―he was never home when I left for school.
I kept walking down the stairs and straight out the door, shutting it behind me just as I heard him call, "Emma!"
I picked up my pace, not wanting to see him, forget about talk to him. Jonathan stepped out the front door with a coffee in his hand and a laptop bag hanging from his shoulder. He glanced in my direction as I unlocked my car, hesitating slightly. When I avoided eye contact and slipped into my car, he continued to his truck.
I turned the key in the ignition and … nothing happened.
"No way," I grunted, pumping the gas and turning the key again. The car didn't even make an attempt to start. I collapsed in my seat, banging my hands on the steering wheel.
Jonathan braked at the end of the driveway. I remained in my car, ignoring him, grumbling profanities under my breath. This was the last thing I needed this morning.
He tapped on my window, forcing me to roll it down. "You okay?"
"No," I huffed, still unable to look at him. "My car won't start."
"I'll give you a ride," he responded. "Then I'll take a look at it later."
I hesitated, glancing at my watch. I knew Sara and Evan were already on their way to school, and it didn't make sense to have them come all the way out here to get me.
"Please, just let me drive you to school," Jonathan requested fervently when I didn't answer.
"Fine," I huffed. I opened my car door and slammed it in frustration. I tossed my book bag on the floor of his passenger side before pulling myself up onto the seat. I shut the door and fastened my seatbelt, determined to ignore him.
We drove down the street and out of the neighborhood without a word.
"Can we talk about it?" Jonathan finally pleaded, turning down the radio when the tense silence became too much.
"No," I snapped. "I definitely do not want to talk about it."
But after only ten seconds, I turned toward him and practically yelled, "Why are you doing this to her, Jonathan? I don't understand!"
"I … I know," he stuttered. "I couldn't end it. I knew it would make things worse."
"So you'd rather torture her by making her fall more in love with you so you can dump her right before you leave. That's real great!" I shot back, my anger rising with each word.
"Emma, please don't be mad at me," he begged. "That's not what I want, really. I just … wasn't ready."
"Prolonging the inevitable isn't helping her," I lectured sternly. "It's torturing her. You can't protect her forever. You're coddling her."
"And you aren't?" he rebutted, glancing at me out of the corner of his eye. I opened my mouth to defend myself, but nothing came out. In truth, I didn't really know what he meant. He continued, his voice growing stronger, "Emma, you clean up after her when she throws a fit; you comfort her when she's irresponsible, and the other night she basically accused you of ruining her life. You're protecting her as much as I am."
I continued to stare.
"I'm sorry," he said, his tone softening. "I shouldn't have said that."
I let his words soak in. He pulled into the parking lot of the school, stopping alongside the walkway that wrapped around the building. Putting the truck in park, he turned toward me. His brown eyes were heavy with apology.