Page 20 of Control (Everyday Heroes 3.50)
“I promise you pickles and almond butter don’t go together, Em,” I say into my cell as I pull into the driveway.
“This baby has to be a boy. I swear. This pregnancy is different than my others. I craved nothing with Gwen and Taylor. No weird foods. No constant sex. No—”
“No wonder Grant’s walking around tired all the time.” I laugh. “Let the poor man get some sleep.”
“He’s not complaining by any means.”
“What man would?”
“Am I going to get to see you soon?” she asks, and the sound of her voice has me listening closely. Hormonal pregnant woman versus something is really wrong.
“You okay?”
“Yeah. I’m just worried about you—”
“I’m fine, Em.”
“But you’re avoiding me. Ever since the creeper in your house—you’re dodging coming over, because you don’t want me to look you in the eye and know you’re scared,” she says, and I don’t say a word in response. “I’ve known you too long, Des.”
“I’m fine,” I say in exasperation.
“Then tell me the last time you let loose. What wild party did you crash or which bar in town did you shut down while dancing on the tables? Come on, give this old married and pregnant lady someone to live vicariously through.”
I smile but it’s vacant of all happiness as I think of the woman I usually am. The one who has stories to tell and men to confuse. Instead all I do is chuckle in response.
“There aren’t any, are there? And you tell me not to be worried about you?”
“I’m just in a funk is all.”
“No, you’ve put yourself in a funk. You tell me that you’re fine when you’re not. You tell me this creep being in your house hasn’t affected you, and yet you’re afraid to leave your house. You tell me you know you’re not to blame for this, but you’re afraid to be the you I know and go dance with some stranger in a bar just because he can sing the lyrics louder than you.” She tsks.
“That’s not it.” But it is it. The damn man in my bedroom has scared the shit out of me. He’s made me fear that I’ll meet him face to face, maybe even share a drink with him, and I wouldn’t even know it.
“That’s bullshit and you know it.”
“Em.” Her name is a sigh. A plea.
“Then come have lunch with me.”
Fuck.
“Okay. I’ll find a light client day and let you know.”
“And there you go hiding again.”
“It’s just…it’s just hard to explain is all.”
“No one said you had to, but ferreting yourself away in hibernation isn’t good for your soul either.”
“I promise you I’ll let you know a good day,” I say to get her off my back.
“You better...or else I’ll come there and watch you shave dogs and then throw up when you do all the gross stuff you have to do with them—”
“I should have never explained to you what expressing an anal gland was like.”
She gags on the other end of the phone and I laugh. “You burned my memory forever.”
“Goodbye, Emerson.”
