Vacant(15)

“I was scared, Ethan. At first, I thought maybe you were just blowing off some steam, off figuring out a way to tell me to leave, but when you didn’t come home that first night or the next morning, I started to get worried. Then Margie came by and said you hadn’t shown up for work.”

So, this is how Margie knows about Emily.

“I wasn’t really sure how much she knew, but I could tell she was surprised to find me here. She was so nice though. I told her how highly you speak of her and how much we appreciated the deal she and her husband gave on the car. Then I lost myself for a little bit and told her about you surprising me and taking me to graduation.” Emily pauses and smiles, then looks down as if she’s a little embarrassed.

“It was nice to have a woman to talk to again. It reminded me a little of my mom.”

Emily continues to tell me about Margie coming to the house. She said she cried for a little bit because she didn’t know what to do, that she’d been relying on me for so long. She didn’t know what she would do if I didn’t come home. She also tells me how Margie asked her about a job and what she liked to do. It seems they went to the public library and Emily applied for a position. She can work there part-time and still go to school. Apparently, she works until closing and that’s why she came home so late. Margie also got her a bus pass and rode with her the first time to make sure it was safe.

There isn’t a bouquet of flowers big enough for Margie right now.





~Home~


“Margie’s been coming by every night to make sure I have food or whatever. We would talk for a little while.” Emily stops and looks toward the door. “I’m guessing she hasn’t shown up tonight because she saw the car out front.”

I yawn, but not because I’m bored. I could listen to Emily talk forever about the six days I missed out on. I’m exhausted though and the days I went without restful sleep are showing.

“You are so tired, Ethan. We can do this tomorrow.” Her hand slides down my face as a warm smile takes over her features.

I stand to head toward the bedroom, and she turns to make her bed on the couch.

“Emily?” I question her. “I was hoping we could go to bed.” The, “well, duh,” look she gives me, and then returns to making her bed tells me she’s not understanding my meaning. “No, ummm…”

Why am I so nervous to say this?

I roll my eyes at myself.

“Like, together,” I say as I step to the doorway of the bedroom, “in here.”

Her eyes get huge, owl huge, and I realize my mistake.

“No! Not like that. I just….” I have messed up so much; I want to get something right, so I pause and collect my thoughts.

“No more sleeping on the couch, Emily. We’re adults who love each other. I don’t want to be apart anymore. Come to bed with me and sleep. Nothing else.” I want her to understand that I’m not pushing. I want her close, but I don’t want her to be uncomfortable. This is a monumental step forward for us.

“You, me, pajamas, and sleeping…” I decide that perhaps a little lighthearted humor won’t hurt. “And maybe a little more of the kissing.”

~

I will behave.

I put on full length pajama pants—over my boxers—and t-shirt.

I get under the sheet, lie flat on my back and cross my hands over my stomach.

I wait. Patiently? No.

Emily enters the bedroom from the bathroom, and I can tell she's nervous. I'm not sure if her anxiety is because of the prospect of sleeping with me or that she is wearing a tank and panty set I'm pretty sure was intended for a toddler and not a full grown woman.

I can see her nipples.

And her…I'm definitely in trouble.

Do I tell her?

I have no idea what the protocol is for divulging sexual history to a prospective mate.

Mate?

I roll my eyes at myself again as images of Emily and me wrapped in fur coverings shoot through my mind. I’m running around with a spear shouting, “Me man, you woman.” It’s totally ridiculous that I’ve reverted to a prehistoric mindset. If I were a caveman, I’d have an easier time with the subject at hand. I’d just grab Emily and shove my penis in her vagina with nothing more than grunts. Being without conversational language skills has its advantages; there’s no way to explain everything.

My thoughts have veered off course, and I need to focus on the woman crawling up the bed like a cat hunting a mouse.

Even though I haven’t admitted it to myself, this is one of the reasons I’m so afraid of this thing with Emily. Sex and the topic of sex have always been off the table with her. We have never discussed previous experiences. I’d always assumed Emily was a virgin, but maybe it was just wishful thinking on my part since she came to me at a young age. I’m not naive enough to think that teenage girls aren’t having sex. I just didn’t want Emily to be one of them.