Chapter 15 (Earth)

Chapter 15 (Earth) 

Winter arrived with a white vengeance shrouding all the hills near Emma’s home. Trees that had earlier in autumn become skeletons were now part of the fluffy white world. She could visualize the references to death…symbolic bones amid the clouds of heaven. A bleak, yet pure horizon surrounded her. Brisk cold air swirled, inviting all to wrap up warmly with an extra scarf across the face to breath through so lungs didn’t freeze. Emma would bundle up Arty so warm he looked like the marshmallow man, then take him out for a few runs down the hill behind their house on a sled. He laughed so hard he would tumble off the sled at times. She hoped he would not become sick from inhaling all the icy air topped off with snow drifts, but he never seemed to, it just made him happy. 

Snow shoes were now needed for her treks to see Lily which became even more  infrequent. Emma loved to strap on the winter footwear and float on top of the snow where ever she wanted to go. Skiing took money and transportation, but snow shoes made her autonomous over the white hills around her home. She could no longer identify the trails she took in warmer weather, but the tracks she left made sure she could always follow her way out and not get lost. Tracks of other animals and birds were fun to find and follow too. She wondered how wildlife survived in these stark conditions. 

Once she came upon a young doe or maybe a older fawn that had died. She imagined scenarios that may have caused its demise. Perhaps inability to forage for food, or a predator higher on the food chain looking for a meal of their own. Most likely the poor creature was hit by a car and injured and made it this far from the road before giving up the ghost. The large brown eyes were stuck open and stared pleadingly at her it seemed. She wished she could close them in respect, but the carcass was surely frozen solid by this point. At least the frigid weather kept the flies and maggots away. 

A wave of compassion filled Emma’s heart. She hoped someone would tenderly care for her remains one day. Her warmly mittened hands began scooping mounds of snow to pile over the remains of Bambi or his mother. Stacked snow was gently packed and patted around what eventually looked more like a fitting resting place and less like a deer snowman. Emma arranged a delicately balanced headstone of piled rocks in conical shape. She had seen these Scottish named cairns made by human hands often used as trail markers to assist hikers in finding their way home. Perhaps her minor feat of megalithic engineering could help mark the way home for this dear deer. She bowed her head and offered a few words in the creatures behalf before continuing on her way.  

Emma adored all animals. Since she was a little girl she would spend hours looking through dog breed books deciding the kind of dog she would get if ever allowed one. She had it down to three different breeds each with something different to offer. At first she thought a golden retriever like Hemingway would be perfect, they were so family friendly and would be great hike companions, but the long silky hair that shed would not be popular in their home, so she switched her first choice to a cousin of that breed, the Labrador Retriever.  She would welcome one in black, yellow or chocolate. 

Her next choice if her parents would not allow a large dog was one of those tiny dogs the celebrities carried around sometimes called “handbag dogs”. Her favorite breed in that category was probably the Yorkshire Terrier. They were such petite dogs and could go with her wherever she went. Or if she compromised and went with a mid-sized dog, beagles were so smart, but she would probably stick with an English Springer Spaniel or possibly a Cavalier King Charles Spaniel, they were darling dogs. She had narrowed it down to a Lab or one of the Spaniels most likely. The real truth was, Emma would be thrilled with even a rescue dog or mutt. She just dreamed of having her own live creature to love, one that would love her back unconditionally. She wanted to find out if a dog really was man’s best friend.

Every year her father had told her maybe next year they would get a dog, until Arty arrived and then her mother’s aneurysm and they had enough to take care of in their home. Maybe something terrible would have happened to her puppy as well. She did seem to draw disaster. Since a dog did not seem to be in her near future, she had adopted birds as her non-house pets. She had so many and they could fly away if she brought danger their way. Their freedom inspired her. Besides seeing Lily that was other reason she loved visiting the lake house.

When Emma finally did attempt a dog-less Iditarod adventure to Wildwood that winter, Lily seemed to lack her normal luster. Crevices carved visible lines on the lovely face and for the first time Lily looked old. She always made a valiant attempt to be her usual grand hostess self, but something had changed. Lily exuded a loneliness about her that was palpable, something was missing. But Emma was too trapped in her own woe-is-me world to have much to offer. Hopefully the spring in Lily’s step would return with springtime. A sad thought from somewhere entered Emma’s mind and she wondered if Lily would be around by next winter. Maybe misery loves company and Emma was projecting her plans onto others. No, Lily and other’s lives would likely go on. But Lily was definitely sick of either body or heart. Emma promised herself to check in more often.

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The last day before Christmas break Cash dropped a bombshell on Emma. He would be leaving in January to go to Amsterdam for the next semester where his dad had been offered a teaching exchange for one term at the University of Amsterdam which was becoming wildly popular with Americans. Cash said it would look good on his college applications and future resumes to attend school internationally for those few months.

Emma hopefully masked her horror and tried to appear happy for him. How would she even make it until April without Cash to be her buffer and bodyguard at school every day. The sorrow that seeped into her soul was almost more painful than she could stand, but she squeezed out a congratulatory hug for her best friend. 

Knowing it would be hard on Emma he tried to allay some of her fears by assuring her he would be back before the end of the summer so they would spend their senior years together. (If she was even still here by then she thought.) He tried to get out more words to share some of his personal feelings with her, but decided he would have to save them for his return since they froze like icicles to his lips. 

Since seventh grade Cash had been in love with Emma. They had been friends for the four years before, but her actions that year took his emotional investment to an elevated level. It was football season and the school was having their seasonal sports pep rally during the class period before lunch. Usually the pep rallies were held at the end of the day, but this was a big game and the team was going to get out of school early to prepare, so the rally had been moved earlier in their daily schedule. 

Cash usually spent pep rallies cheering on science in the computer lab instead due to his total lack of interest, but he had agreed to join Emma in the bleachers that day to get an early start on their lunch break. Cheerleaders romped back and forth along the sidelines leading chants and players were introduced. There was a short skit followed by the announcement of an activity needing a volunteer. This time instead of asking for volunteers they were going to draw a “random” name to participate.

Both Emma and Cash had an uneasy feeling when his name was “drawn” from the container. Calculating his options, Cash reluctantly climbed down the bleachers to stand on the polished planks of the gymnasium floor. The name of the opposing team’s mascot, the “Cavemen”, was hung on a signboard around Cash’s neck, guaranteeing embarrassment was on it’s way. Underestimating the humiliation, he imagined that they might have him try to shoot a basket and he would miss the whole hoop or have him perform some other action that highlighted his lack of athletic prowess to make the Cavemen look beatable. Not only was he not skilled in sports, Cash dreaded be in front of crowds so it was a double-whammy. He looked wistfully at the exit doors as they handed him his Caveman club and wrapped the Caveman mascot’s loin cloth over his clothes.

The uneasiness turned to a sick feeling in Emma’s gut when she saw their school’s Wolverine mascot and several of the football players being handed cans of spray shaving and whipped cream. Then began to chant “Cream the Cavemen, Cream the Cavemen” as they circled and pelted poor Cash with mounds of whipped cream. It appeared he had been totally consumed by whiteness before the school administration stopped the pillage. Later they would say in their defense it had all just been good clean fun. 

Emma immediately upon sensing what was going to happen escaped the gym and hurriedly ran to the Home Ec room to gather towels, then swung by the Drama Department to grab a clean shirt from the costume closet, returning just as the “good clean fun” ended. To her it appeared more like segments of the 1976 horror film “Carrie” with the blood being replaced by sticky sweetness. To Cash it was a white nightmare he did not want to wake up from. 

Emma had guided him from the arena to a nearby boy’s bathroom to clean him up. He had  already been mortified enough she felt to make him go into the girl’s restroom for the sponge bath. As she gently wiped whipped cream out of his eyes and ears Cash felt a huge serge of gratitude mingled with another emotion he could not yet identify. It made him almost laugh to hear her heartily berate the mascot, football team and eventually the whole school as she continued to help him change into the least conspicuous pirate shirt she could snag. She refused to let him wear the Wolverine t-shirt they had tossed him as he left the gym and told him they should go to the game just to root for the Cavemen to cream the dumb-jock pack of wolves! Somehow seeing her so upset about his attack made it all okay. He hoped to always have her on his side through thick, thin and even sticky after that.

He wished she could go with them now to Amsterdam, but he knew that was not an option. He could choose not to go, but he knew Emma would not want that either. His mother was even going. She had hired someone to run her Early Learning Pre-School while she was away for the six months. Her business had evolved from mere babysitting to much more, but she wanted to experience Holland with her husband and son. Luckily she was able to arrange it. There were really no loose ends in going besides Emma, but that was a gigantic dangling rope of loose ends. Six months would hopefully fly by swiftly. 

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Christmas Eve came and Emma could not sleep. Not that she was awake with anticipation of all the treasures Santa would bring her, pretty much the opposite. Would her distant dad remember this holiday at all. He had arrived home earlier that night from a business trip and sent Joy home to celebrate with her near nonexistent extended family which really consisted of friends. Hopefully he had remembered something for Arty at least. 

She and Arty had decorated their mother’s metal bed frame with Christmas light earlier in the week and placed a tiny tree on the nightstand hoping to make Maggie’s surrounds a little more festive. Maybe the decor would conjure a Christmas miracle. At least it made their mother-daughter time together a bit brighter. 

Emma tiptoed down the stairs to check and was surprised to see her father sitting in the rocking chair near the fire. It looked like he had been trying to be Santa, but became lost or exhausted in the efforts. A blank look of nothingness caused his once handsome features to droop. Bitterness like bile filled her mouth, he was not there for them yet once again. She wanted to run back up the stairs to her room and forget what she had seen. Jack always displayed a mask of efficiency and I-am-on-top-of-things to the world, he would not want her to see him like this. But something froze her feet to the spot. It was hard to see him broken, but she still had to check Arty’s stocking.  

She slowly moved in the direction of the hanging socks not thinking her dad had seen her, but words started to spill out of his mouth as he continued to stare straight ahead past her. 

“I cannot do it without Maggie. She was always the one who was good at these things. She always knew just what to do and how to do it. People loved her. I am the one who should be back in that bed in a coma.” 

Light from the fire showed wetness that glistened in trails from the corners of his eyes down mingling with his scruffy start of whiskers. He continued to rock in silence. Emma was caught. She could not go forward now without him seeing her, but was compelled on anyway. Dang that stocking. She took a step and sound emitted from the father figure again. 

“I am sorry, so sorry Emma.” Had he even seen her? “I know I am not the dad you and Arty need. It is just easier to be gone.”  He continued to rock. 

At his feet lay a pile of things he must have been going to fill the stockings with. Most of it looked like items gathered from hotel rooms, things maids refilled in the bathrooms each day. There were also packets of peanuts and crackers most-likely from the airplane. He really was bad at this. 

Emma took another step towards the fireplace and then shifted focus towards her dad. They were all broken by the events of the past few years it seemed. She really could not continue to be angry with him for checking out and doing the same thing she wanted to do. Itching to place blame, she instead came up behind the rocker and draped her slender arms over his shoulders and around his neck laying her cheek on his graying head. Neither of them spoke but the rocking slowed. 

She really wanted to scream at him or even shake him for the neglect she felt, but instead Emma said, “I know the things Arty likes dad, I can help fill his stocking.” 

Jack rallied at the support, so like her mother, and together they found things to make passable Christmas presents. The things they wrapped were not the present either of them wanted anyway. She lay in the room down the hall. 

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Long before dawn Emma wandered down the well-worn hallway into her mother’s dark room. The hospital bad was narrow, but so was Maggie’s withering body. Emma dropped the side rail which prevented her mother from falling should she ever roll around and slipped between the sheets beside her mother. She just needed to be close to her mom tonight and feel a part of her life in any way she could. There was something about touching, even if not an actual hug, that soothed the troubled soul. Thick oppressive loneliness was drowning Emma and maybe her mom was the life raft to keep her afloat. 

Maggie’s form was not soft, warm and inviting. She was currently positioned on her side to prevent bed sores, so Emma scooted her back into her mother’s hallow chest and pulled her mom’s top arm across her needy shoulders in a protective almost embrace. The arm’s weight was feather light and it dangled limply, but hung down over Emma in a comforting way. She felt safe as she softly cried before dropping off to sleep. A lone wolf or coyote howled in the distance. 

It was still dark when she awoke. Her mother had not moved and there was some warmth between their two bodies. It felt nice to just snuggle. Maybe she would spend Christmas Day in bed with her mom. They could live their days in bed together like the grandparents in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, Willy Wonka’s story. She was pretty paralyzed herself anyway. The thought made her giggle, that might cause some stir. She knew she should probably go wait for Arty in the front room near the stockings. Slowly she separated herself from her mother. 

“Merry Christmas Mom,” Emma whispered as she snuck out of bed and back down the hall to the real world.