Saving Emery Clarke

E M E R Y · 1 3

E D I T E D : J U L Y  3 0 ,  2 0 1 7

•°•°•

"It's done. A fresh start," I say, trying to smile.

"A fresh start," Mom repeats, smiling back.

  We just finished pouring all of her liquor and beer down the drain. To be honest, I'm on cloud nine because I finally have my mother back. It's crazy how in less than a week, my life went from hell to this. One incident, and my mother is a completely different person.

I almost can't believe it myself.

"We need to get going soon," I say, running my fingers through my hair. I wince as the skin on my torso stretches, the bruises still fresh.

Mom frowns at my wince. "I'm so sorry, honey. Really, I am. I don't know what I was thinking-"

"Mom. It's okay," I say, smiling weakly at her. She apologizes almost every day. My response is always the same: It's okay.

It's not okay.

It's far from okay.

I was raped less than a week ago. I'm not going to be okay for a while. Maybe I'll never be okay again.

That thought kind of terrifies me. But I can't let my mother know that. She'll just sink into a hole of depression and return to her old habits. That cannot happen.

"Grab your bags, Mom. I'll get mine and we'll meet Seth out front in about five minutes," I tell her.

Seth is going to drive us to a rehab center, where my mom can get the help she needs. It'll take a while to pay off, but as long as it helps my mom then I don't care.

A loud honk snaps me out of my reverie and I grab my backpack and the old duffle bag I have filled with my clothes. While my mom is in rehab for the next three or so months, I'm going to be staying with Seth and his mom, so I'm not living alone.

"Mom! Are you ready to go?" I call, walking down the hallway.

"One second!"

I open the front door and hold out my index finger, indicating that we needed a minute. Seth shoots me a thumbs up and cheeky grin. I roll my eyes.

"Emery, I wanted you to have something," Mom says, walking over with her bags in tow. She holds a picture frame in her hands and stops in front of me.

"What is it?" I ask.

Mom hands me the picture frame and I almost start crying. It's a picture of my parents, my twin brother, Everest, and I from about eleven years ago, when I was about six years old.

"I want you to have it. To remember me while I'm gone, and to remember them," Mom says, her smile watery. "We all love you, very much."

I throw my arms around her, hugging her tightly. "Thank you, Mom," I whisper, squeezing my eyes shut.

"I love you, sweetheart."

"I love you too."

•°•°•

"Bye Mom. Remember to call if you need anything for want to talk. I love you," I say, kissing her cheek.

"Bye Mrs. Clarke!" Seth hollers from the drivers seat. My mom and I are standing outside the car, hugging goodbye.

"Please, it's Carrie. Bye Seth," my mom says. "Take care of my girl, you hear me? Make sure she gets enough to eat."

"Yes ma'am," Seth says, smiling.

Mom shakes her head. "I love you, Emery. Stay safe and keep that boy around, I like him. He's seems good."

I nod. "Okay. I'll see you in three months."

"Goodbye, honey."

"Goodbye, Mom," I say, hopping back up into Seth's truck. I wave as she turns and walks into the rehab center, ready to start a new life.

I sniff, trying to keep the tears at bay. I've been crying way too much lately. "What's wrong, Em?" Seth asks, pulling away and onto the road.

"I just got my mother back and she's already gone again," I say, rubbing my eyes. "Ironic, isn't it?"

"This is for the best. She's getting the help she needs, to be better for you," Seth tells me. "You'll see her soon enough. Isn't there like a day or something for visitors?"

"I think so. You always know what to say," I say, leaning my head back against the headrest.

"It's one of my many quirks," he says nonchalantly. I roll my eyes at him and slap his arm. "Hey! Don't harm the driver!"

"Please, as if that hurt you," I say, scoffing.

"You're right."

"I know," I murmur, looking out the window as we drive to Seth's house. "Are you sure your mom's okay with me staying for such a long time?"

"Totally. She suggested it, actually," he says.

"Really?" I ask, surprised.

"Really," Seth answers, smiling lazily at me. "How are your bruises?"

I shrug. "Hurts like hell. But I'll live."

"Good. Well, not good, but good. Uh, not good, but good. Not good they hurt, but good-I'm going to shut up now."

Seth knows just how to make me laugh. "I get it, Seth."

"Good. Shit, now I hate that word," Seth mutters. I laugh again.

A little while later, we pull up to his house. We get out, Seth grabbing my bags like the gentleman he is, and enter the house.

"Hey kid. Long time no see."

•°•°•