twenty-three

BIRMINGHAM, SOUTH CAROLINA

2010

Emily sat in the back seat trying to read her parents’ every move and glance. Were they mad? Sad? Glad?

“Say something,” Emily finally asked.

Elena turned in her seat. “That was a nice lunch, didn’t you think?”

“Of course I did. Why did you run off?”

“Can’t you for one second imagine that was hard for me?”

“Of course, Mom. Mr. Jack thought he hurt your feelings with the ‘aunt’ comment. I could tell. He didn’t mean it though.”

“That wasn’t it. I was upset because my heart breaks every time I hear you doubt yourself, every time I hear you talk about how you’re not good enough or smart enough or pretty enough. I don’t know what I’ve ever done to make you believe that. You’re amazing and you can do anything you want.”

“What are you talking about?” Emily scooted up in the seat, straining the seatbelt across her chest.

“When you said you’d never be as good at writing as Tara. Why do you say things like that? I didn’t raise you that way, Emily. I’ve always told you how…”

“What you tell me and what I feel aren’t the same thing, Mom. Not the same thing at all. And it makes me crazy when you tell me how great I am over and over and over. Of course you’re supposed to believe I’m the most wonderful of all wonderfuls, but guess what?” Emily took in a long breath and hollered, “I’m not!” Her words echoed inside the tiny rental car.

“Yes, you are.”

“Damn GPS,” Larry said. “It keeps taking us in circles.” He stopped at a red light and turned in his seat. “Okay, that’s enough. You’re both emotionally fraught and tired. Please.”

“God, Dad, why do you have to be so freaking logical? Can’t you just let us freak out?”

He laughed and shook his head. “Nope. No freaking out.”

Elena attempted not to laugh, but the sound bubbled up and she turned in her seat to face the windshield, pulling down the visor to check her face. “I look a wreck.”

“No, you don’t.” Larry reached across and took her hand. “All is well.”

The GPS’s robotic voice announced, “Stay left and keep in the right-hand lane.”

The three of them burst into laughter. “How do I stay left and keep in the right-hand lane?” Larry said as they drove past the restaurant for the fourth time.

Only Emily saw them on the bench: Mr. Jack and Miss Katie. Her head was on his shoulder and his face was lifted to the sun.

“Just turn left anywhere and see where it leads us,” Elena said.

Emily settled back into her seat and ran through the list of questions that still remained, but not one of them was as important as this answer: Yes, they’d loved each other when they’d made her. She’d been made of love instead of the other options she’d imagined in her worst moments.

It was important, she thought, to know where you started. It seemed to her that where you started just might have something to do with where you ended. And love was a good place for a start and a finish.