Set Me Free// L. Staley

16. Emerson Graham

December 2nd, 2015.

"Rowan, sweetheart, your phone is ringing!"

Rowan looked over her shoulder at Rosie as her hands still occupied making breakfast.

Rosie sat at the living room window, plucking at her guitar absent-mindedly as she looked at the rainy, Seattle morning, a cup of hot coffee sitting next to her. 

The previous night was one of Rosie's major gigs, performing with her band late into the night. Rowan decided to make her a celebratory breakfast for Rosie, congratulating her on the successful performance.

The pair woke up simultaneously, Rowan getting up almost immediately to make breakfast while Rosie strummed the guitar.

"Will you answer that for me, please?" Rowan kindly asked her girlfriend from the kitchen.

"Sure can," Rosie hummed as she placed her guitar next to her before standing up, walking over to Rowan's phone, which sat on the coffee table. 

Rosie paused, however, when she held the screen up to her face, its bright screen illuminating her features through the dim living room.

"I think you want to take this," Rosie murmured as she shuffled over to Rowan, who stood by the stove.

"Why? Is it someone important?" she asked, still distracted by the task at hand.

"It's Emerson, babe," Rosie spoke with hesitance.

Rowan stopped what she was doing, placing her spatula on the counter space next to her. She turned around, looking at Rosie uneasily.

"Can you take over for a sec?" Rowan asked, nodding her head towards the uncooked food. "I'll answer him."

Rosie nodded her head, not another word spoken, as she squeezed by Rowan, handing her the phone before picking up the spatula.

"Just be patient with him," Rosie added as she gave Rowan's waist a gentle squeeze. "He probably needs it right now."

Rowan nodded her head, feeling somewhat relieved by Rosie's suggestion but still distressed. Why was Emerson calling her? Was he okay? 

"Emery?" Rowan asked as she ducked out of the kitchen, walking into the living room, her free hand covering her vacant ear. "What's up, big bro? How are you doing?"

"Roja," Emerson spoke, a twinge of exhaustion on his tone. "It's good to hear your voice."

Rowan furrowed her eyebrows, a wave of anxiety washing over her. "It's good to hear your voice, too. Are you doin' alright?"

He giggled, going silent for a few seconds before sighing. "I've been hotter...How's Rosie? Still makin' music?"

She sat down on the couch slowly, her elbows balanced on her knees. "Rosie's good. She had a pretty big performance last night, but we're still struggling to try to find gigs that'll want her and her band, but she's making it," she explained, worry lacing her tone. "What's wrong, Em?"

"That's good, though. I'm glad you guys are still on your feet," Emerson added. "Maybe I should come down there and play the triangle for her band."

"Em, seriously, what's wrong? You don't sound right," Rowan urged, desperate to know why he sounded so drab.

He sighed once more, this time much more frustrated-sounding. "Rowan...I'm withdrawing."

Rowan sat up straight almost instantly, a faint feeling of relief on her body. "Well, that's a good thing, right? How long have you been withdrawing?"