“What do you mean, the mess with Jed is officially cleaned up. What happened?” I ask, deciding to focus on this mess first, instead of trying to figure out why I’m not more excited to know I can finally go back to Chicago.
“Well, it looks like the medical examiner has officially ruled Jed’s death as an accident,” Bettie informs me.
“What? How is that possible?” I question in shock.
“There were a hundred and twenty-seven people who confessed to his murder at last count,” Emma Jo says, taking up where Bettie left off. “Too many confusing stories and confessions, no witnesses, no viable suspects, and no murder weapon equals case closed. Did you know we have a sprinkler system installed in the yard?”
I shake my head at Emma Jo’s question. She nods and continues.
“Yep. We had it put in about ten years ago. A couple of the spigots have pushed up out of the ground a little higher over the years. The medical examiner concluded that Jed must have tripped over something, landed on one of the spigots, managed to pulled himself off of it, and then bled to death in the yard.”
My jaw drops open and though the explanation seems plausible I guess, something just doesn’t feel right about it. There’s still something unaccounted for.
“What about the missing award from the front table?” I whisper.
Emma Jo squeezes my hand, but doesn’t say anything for a long while. Finally, she lets go of my hand, gets up from the bed and walks over to the window, staring out into the backyard.
“The first time he hit me, I was so shocked, I actually laughed,” she speaks softly with her back to me and Bettie. “I didn’t laugh the next time when he broke my nose and I couldn’t breathe from all the blood dripping back down into my throat. It became my reality, my way of life. Watch what I say, be careful of what I do, but even then I wasn’t guaranteed to walk away without a bruise or something broken, it all depended on his mood or which way the wind blew or something other stupid thing that had crawled up his ass. He kept doing it, because I kept letting him. I had no other choice, nowhere else to go. I didn’t have a job or my own money. I was a housewife. That’s all I’d ever known. I spent twelve years making up excuses for why I couldn’t attend certain functions or why there were marks and bruises on my body that make-up and clothing wouldn’t cover when I did leave the house. I made up excuses for the beatings, I made up excuses for him and I came up with a hundred different excuses for why I couldn’t leave.”
Even though I know Bettie isn’t the touchy-feely type, my hand automatically reaches for hers where she’s still propped up on the bed next to me, listening silently to Emma Jo speak right along with me. She doesn’t pull away when my fingers lace with hers. She squeezes them tighter and holds on for dear life.
“When I was in the hospital and they asked me if there was an emergency contact I could call, I didn’t hesitate to give them your information. I needed strength. I needed someone who could make a decision that I hadn’t been able to make for twelve years. Someone who was always stronger than me, smarter than me, and would never in a million years let herself get to the point I was at – hopeless and just wanting it to end, however that had to happen.”
Emma Jo finally turns away from the window, wiping a few tears from her cheeks that fell while she spoke, giving me a shaky smile.
“I don’t know what I would have done if you hadn’t gotten on that plane and showed up at the hospital. Actually, yes I do,” she says with a humorless laugh. “I knew there was a full bottle of sleeping pills in my medicine cabinet that would do the trick. Finally end all of this bullshit and give me some peace. But you did it. You showed up and you saved me. You kicked my ass into gear, got me out of the hospital, and gave me a reason to keep fighting. So I fought. When you were passed out on my living room floor, I made a decision and I fought and I took back my life. I’m not sorry for what I did, but I am sorry for everything that happened after and how you got caught in the middle of it. I never wanted that to happen.”
She stops speaking and the silence is so thick in the room I can almost see it clouding the air. I’m in shock at what she just sort of admitted, but then again, I’m not. There’s only so much a woman can take before you push her too far. Emma Jo was pushed far beyond her breaking point and like she said, she just wanted it to end. She just wanted some peace.
“Jesus Christ, and I thought I was a scary bitch,” Bettie mutters. “Remind me to never piss you off.”
Emma Jo smiles, a little less sad this time.