Emmy And Me

Our hotel in Denver was an ‘almost boutique’. It was a good effort for a large hotel, emulating the feel closely enough for most people, I guess. I will admit that it was a breath of fresh air after the last few typical soulless large-chain places we’d been staying at.

When given the choice of stadium or plaza view, I immediately jumped on the southwest-facing penthouse suite. I’d seen enough baseball stadiums outside my window to last me for a long time.

We didn’t go out for dinner that first night, opting for room service instead. I was still operating on a bit of a sleep deficit and Emmy was tired from the weekend in Houston.

Once we settled down after eating, Emmy called and asked Stephanie to get someone to bring her acoustic guitar, but Stephanie told her it was passing somewhere through Amarillo about then. She could probably have it in a couple of days, Stephanie told her, but not a lot sooner.

Once Emmy got off the phone with Stephanie, she asked me if I minded going to a guitar shop the next morning.

“I have been thinking about a song,” she explained, “And I want to work on it while it is fresh in my mind.”

“Of course,” I told her. “You know I’d never say no to something like that.”

Smiling gratefully, Emmy came over and sat on my lap. “Have I told you that I love you?” she asked.

“Yes you have, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to hear it again,” I said, pulling her against me.

“I love you,” Emmy said, leaning her head on my shoulder. “I love you very, very much.”

“I love you very much, too,” I replied, planting a soft kiss on her hair.

As always, I woke way before Emmy was ready to get out of bed. Resigned to using the gym’s fitness center, I was pleasantly surprised to find it was a lot nicer than most hotel facilities. Sure, it was all cardio and strength machines, with no free weights anywhere in sight, but I could get in a halfway decent workout using the equipment.

I put in a couple of hours on the treadmill, then an hour with the balance ball and steps to work on range of motion. It wasn’t the greatest workout ever, but it would do for now.

Emmy was awake but still lounging in bed when I returned to the room. She was busily typing away on Angela’s computer, presumably sending emails to Angela’s sponsors or something like that. Feeling a little guilty that she was tackling that task on her own, I sat down next to her to look at the screen.

“You smell very sweaty,” Emmy said after giving me a quick kiss.

“Sorry,” I apologized, moving to get up, but she put her hand on my arm to keep me there.

“I did not say that I disliked it,” Emmy said with a smile.

Laughing, I wrapped my arm around her and pulled her in close. “Now you’re going to smell nice and sweaty, too,” I told her.

“I miss being covered in your sweat,” Emmy said, her voice wistful. “I am sorry that I have not been receptive…”

“Em, baby, your body has been through an incredible amount of trauma recently, not to mention all the emotional issues. I’d be really surprised if getting all hot and sweaty in bed is on your radar at all any time soon.”

“That is true, but I feel selfish for ignoring your needs. I have been very self-absorbed,” Emmy said.

“Em, I can wait as long as it takes. When you’re back in the mood, let me know. Until then, don’t worry about me. My needs in that area are low on my priority list right now.”

“That does not make me feel any less guilty,” Emmy said with a sigh. “I do not know how long it will take me to feel like a lover should.”

Sitting up and pulling away to turn and face me, she said, “Leah, I would understand it if you went somewhere else until I was ready again. I know that there are many women who would be happy to help you relieve yourself…”

Leaning back against the headboard, I let out a big sigh. “Em, that isn’t what I want or need. I’m not some sort of ball of raging hormones who can’t keep it in her pants. When you’re ready, I’ll be ready, too, but until then, I’m not trying out the field.”

“Katrina was very beautiful,” Emmy said. “I am certain that-”

“Just stop,” I said, putting a finger on Emmy’s lips. “Yes, Katrina is hot, and yes, she probably would drop her panties for me, but that isn’t what I want. I want you, Em. But I want you when you’re good and ready, whenever that is. Just the fact that you’re even thinking about sex at all must mean that you’re seeing the light at the end of the healing tunnel, right? I’m happy to wait for you. I really am.”

“I am sorry I am so selfish,” Emmy said again. “You deserve better from me.”

There really was no way to answer that, so I just wrapped her in my arms and held her close. It took me a little while to realize that she was crying in that odd silent way of hers, but when I finally did, I just squeezed her a little bit tighter. Emmy was processing her grief differently than I was, after all. In all fairness, the attack was much worse for her than it was for me, for obvious reasons.

Eventually Emmy relaxed, all cried out. I helped her up and we took a shower together. It wasn’t really sexy soapy time, like we had so many times before. It was comforting, and that was what really mattered just then. I let Emmy know that I was still very sexually attracted to her at the same time as I did my best to make it clear that just touching her gently, holding her, and kissing her were their own rewards.

We had breakfast at the hotel’s brunch restaurant, then requisitioned a hotel van to take us (and our four bodyguards) to the guitar shop Emmy had found online.

Eddie entered the shop first, took a look around, then signaled it was O.K. We all followed him in, except Nick, who stayed outside by the van, keeping an eye out. Living this way was getting really old in a hurry. I knew that once we’d hunted down the crew that had sent the attackers we could relax, but for now, making a show of heightened security was important.

Of course everybody in the store had figured out who was about to arrive when Eddie cased the place. Given the menacing looks our three dark-suited friends were giving everyone in the store it was no surprise that the staff and patrons were slower to rush up and fawn over Emmy than I’d seen in the past.

Of course everyone knew the need for security and I don’t think anybody resented it, but still… it did put a little damper on things, even if Eddie and the guys did their best to blend into the background once they were comfortable that the shop was safe.

Emmy tried out a handful of guitars and dutifully posed for the shop’s promo pics, as she always does at these places. I’m sure none of the people there had any idea, but I could see that Emmy wasn’t really in the mood as she would normally have been. Sure, she was pleasant and friendly, but to my eyes it seemed just a little bit forced.

Of course Emmy played a couple of songs which would be up on Youtube the moment we left the shop, as was expected. I think what probably wasn’t expected was that the songs were classical Spanish-style instrumentals on an acoustic. She wound up buying that Yamaha Concert Acoustic, along with a case and all the various accoutrements needed.

“It is nice enough,” Emmy said in the van ride back to the hotel, “But I doubt I will ever play it on stage. This is merely a practice instrument. Something for me to play in the hotel room, or perhaps on a bus on a winery tour- times and places like that.”

“Makes sense,” I agreed. “It’s good to have a beater instrument that you can keep handy.”

“Exactly,” she said, patting the plastic hardshell case. “I will take this with us whenever we travel.”

“Sounds like a plan,” I said.

We really had no plans for anything to do or see in Denver, so when Grace arrived the next evening it was a welcome distraction. I was glad she was sensitive enough to ask nothing more than how Emmy and I were doing and avoided dwelling on Angela’s murder. At dinner at a nearby restaurant that specialized in southwestern cuisine we spent most of our conversational time talking about Grace’s studies at Northern Arizona University and how she was thinking she’d have enough credits and had met the requirements to graduate at least a term early, maybe even two if she really buckled down.

“I don’t know what I’m going to do with my degree in social work,” Grace admitted at one point. “I always thought I’d work with at-risk teens, helping to keep them off the streets and whatever, but now I’ve done a few internships it seems sorta hopeless.”

“What do you mean by that?” Emmy asked.

“It’s just that no matter how many kids you help, there’re always more that need it, you know?” Grace said, looking despondent. “It’s like nothing you do makes a difference.”

“Grace,” Emmy said, her tone a bit sharper than either Grace or I expected. “It makes plenty of difference to the ones that you help. Let me ask you a very direct question- did Leah help you when you needed it?”

“Oh, God, more than I can ever say,” Grace said.

“You are one person. One person who got the help that she needed. Leah did not cure the world’s problems when she came up to Arcata to help you out, did she? It might not have mattered in the grand scheme of things, but for you, Grace, it was life-changing. The children you might help- they need to have their lives changed. They need help. It is true you cannot possibly help them all, but even if you only help a few…”

Grace sighed, letting her shoulders droop. “Yeah, I get it, I really do. ‘It might not make one bit of difference to the world at large, but it makes a world of difference for the one you help’. One of my teachers used to like to say that.”

“That is exactly it,” Emmy confirmed. “One child saved from a terrible life is a triumph. Any more than that is a miracle.”

“Yeah, I know… Really, I do. It’s just disheartening when you do everything you can for a kid, only to have them wind up back in the same shitty situation they started out in. And there are never enough resources, you know? Not enough good foster families, not enough mental health care, not enough substance abuse treatment… It’s a fucked up system,” Grace said.

“Be somebody’s hero, Grace,” Emmy urged. “You do not need to even try to be everybody’s hero. Just do what you can, for those you can. It will never be enough, but it will make a difference.”

“Yeah, that’s what Rosalie says, too,” Grace admitted.

“You two must be coming up on your one year anniversary pretty soon, right?” I asked.

“Our first real date was in October, so it’s still a few months away, but yeah,” Grace replied.

“Are you two thinking this might be a long-term thing?”

“I want her to move in with me instead of her staying in the dorms next year,” Grace admitted. “I know, I know, U Hauls and all that, but it only makes sense. She barely spent any nights at her dorm room last year anyhow. We eat at home way more than she ever does at the cafeteria- she’s a great cook, you know?” Grace said.

“You have described how it is right now,” Emmy pointed out, “But not where you see it going.”

Grace groaned, leaning her head back. “I hate thinking about it. I want us to be together, and Rosie does too, but sometimes I think that our lives might not be meant to be together. Like, after she gets her Bachelor’s, she’s gonna go to veterinary school, right? She’s hoping to get into UC Davis, which is cool for her and all that, but that’s right when I’ll be trying to find a job in social work, if that’s even what I do. So, do I just get a job there in Davis, and figure that it’ll only last a few years until Rosie finishes vet school, then we’re off to wherever?”

“Sure, why not?” I asked. “No employer is going to hire you right out of college with the assumption that you’ll stay there forever. So you put in a few years at some program in Sacramento if you can’t find anything in Davis itself. Heck, you can put in your time as a volunteer at a women and kids shelter or something- you know we’ll support you if you do something like that, after all. Think of that time as experience and resumé building. Where does Rosalie want to practice?”

“That’s another thing. Like, Flag is I guess a medium-sized city? Seventy thousand people, anyhow, which makes it roughly forty times the size of Wickenburg, where her family lives. She kinda wants to go back to that really small-town life, you know? Maybe not Wickenburg, but someplace sorta like that. You guys know me- you know what it was like, moving to Palo Alto after Arcata. It was a whole new, big world for me. I just don’t think I can bring myself to ever live in a place as small as Arcata again, and that’s almost twenty thousand people. I’d go nuts in freaking Wickenburg. Just no way,” Grace said, shaking her head.

“Well, that’s what, six years away at the earliest, if she does wind up going to vet school,” I pointed out. “By then she may well change her mind. Or you might.”

“Maybe…” Grace said, her voice expressing her doubt.

“But in the meantime, you guys are good?” I asked.

“Yeah, me and Rosie are doing great,” Grace confirmed.

Walking back to the hotel after dinner, Grace asked what we had planned for the next few days.

“We have made no plans,” Emmy said.

“We should do something cool,” Grace said.

“Like what?” I asked.

“I dunno, but sitting around the hotel for four days seems like a terrible way to spend your time here in the Mile-High City,” Grace said. “Tell you what- let me do some research tonight, and I’ll come up with something fun.”

“Sounds good,” I agreed.

That night Emmy took a more active role in our nightly bathing ritual. She was still fairly tender, but she washed my hair and soaped me up for the first time since the attack. She was very careful to get all of those hard-to-reach spots that it’s best to have a fellow bather wash for you, making sure I was nice and clean. I returned the favor, but didn’t push it any farther than Emmy had gone with me. Yeah, I was aroused, but until Emmy felt ready I wasn’t going to press the issue.

I was gentle but playful with the towel when it was time to dry off. I wanted us to get back to where we had been, but it would happen on its own time. I’m not going to say that I didn’t miss Angela constantly, but Rafael was right. The living need to keep living, after all. Emmy and I needed to pick up the pieces and move forward, as painful as it was to admit it.

Emmy fell asleep quickly, and as I lay there in bed listening to her slow, even breathing I thought about Grace and wondered if she had intentionally turned the conversation away from Angela’s loss and to her own relatively harmless topics. Grace wasn’t the most subtle of individuals, but it wouldn’t surprise me to hear that she had done just that.

At breakfast Grace laid out a busy itinerary for us, none of which involved anything in Denver itself. It was a series of day trips to small, historic mining towns in the Rockies. Sure, it was more along the lines of things that Grace was interested in than either Emmy or I, but it was better than sitting in the hotel room for days on end.

I rented us a pair of Range Rovers so the seven of us could travel in relative comfort. We spent the next three days riding narrow-gauge antique railways, panning for gold, and shopping in postcard-perfect little main streets at high elevations.

I made damned sure that Emmy had on her extra powerful sunblock and wore long sleeves, a broad-brimmed hat and her glacier sunglasses since the sun at nine thousand feet can be brutal. All the precautions seemed to help, but she was still the first one to fade as the day wore on.

I wound up buying all the rest of us sunglasses the first afternoon, too, and got myself a cowboy hat that Emmy declared was adorable but made me self-conscious. It did a great job of keeping the sun out of my eyes, and that was what mattered. The guys refused when I offered to buy them hats, so I guess they were O.K. with it.

Grace was surprisingly sanguine about traveling everywhere with four menacing Night Children bodyguards, but when I asked her in private about it on the second night she said, “Well, like, Eddie was there in Vancouver, so, I mean, I know he’s one of your…” she said, searching for the right word.

“Heavies,” I suggested.

“Yeah, he’s one of your heavies, but, like, he helped you save my life, so I guess I kind of trust him, you know? And after what happened to Angela, I can see the need. You know, I watched those videos online. The way you slammed that one guy… You know, I’ve never talked with anybody about what happened that night in Canada, right? Not even to Rosie. I watched you kill two guys right in front of me that night, Leah, but that was nothing compared to what you did in Atlanta. That was some serious next level shit,” Grace said.

“I hate that it’s ever come to violence,” I said. “But when it does, I need to be the one doing the violence.”

“Yeah, well, you’re fucking good at it,” Grace said, so I gave her a little swat on the back of the head.

“Language,” I admonished her.

“O.K., Mom,” Grace said smiling at the long-standing joke.