For some reason, the distance between Emily and myself is growing already even though she’s sitting mere inches from me. Maybe separation is good, given she’s leaving, but deep inside, I know I’m not ready yet. I wasted precious time—two nights ago because I lost my shit over Gabe, and last night because I still stewed over it. Once again, he’s stolen from me. Stolen precious time with Emily.
You did that to yourself, I remind myself. You made the decision to fester and stay away from her.
“Your stubbornness is unnerving,” she said. Yeah, I’m ruining things all on my own.
I sigh as I watch Katie continue to play with Emily’s zipper.
Zip up. Zip down. Zip up. Zip down.
The noise becomes more annoying as my tolerance lowers.
“Enough,” I hiss while I look from Katie’s fingers to her face. With both my eyes and my words, I warn her. When she first stopped speaking, eye contact was integral to our communication. I needed her to look me in the eye when I spoke so I’d know she heard me, and her expression told me if she understood something. Tonight, I’m on edge. The air around us crackles and I want to dismiss it as anticipation of the fireworks display. People surround us with their cheerful chatter and their playful banter. It’s a night of family, happiness, and celebration, but I’m slowly unraveling.
“Are you trying to zip me up?” Emily interjects, maybe trying to lessen the tension around us. She keeps her eyes on Katie, who has stilled mid-motion. Of course, Katie doesn’t answer Emily. She doesn’t even look up at her.
“One more fairy secret, Princess Katie,” Emily says, and I roll my eyes. Not this shit again. Sitting forward, I bring my knees upward and wrap my arms around them. Squinting off in the distance, I feel numb with all this princess and fairy crap.
“A poem.” Emily takes a breath before she continues. “I will miss you when I go, but in my heart, I’ll love you so. If you should ever wish to speak, know your words will stay with me. My heart will always hear your voice. Your words are silent by your choice. And though the miles keep us apart, I’ll hear your words deep in my heart.”
What the hell?
Silence descends over our little space and Katie slowly restarts the zipping motion.
One—click—tooth—snap—at a time.
Her little eyes shift to me. She looks to see if I’m watching her as she plays with Emily’s zipper even though I’d warned her to stop. Between Katie’s defiance and Emily’s poem, I lose it. I’ve had enough of the zipper noise and enough of Emily’s mumbo-jumbo.
“Shut it with that nonsense,” I say to Emily. Katie freezes. The zipper is almost to Emily’s neck. “Just shut up, Emily.”
The silence from a moment ago becomes an eerie stillness. My mouth fills with more angry words, more explanations of why she needs to stop spewing this crap about fairies and professing her love.
“Mommy said shut up.”
The world stops moving.
Trees halt their swaying.
The air stagnates.
The lake stills.
“What did you say?” I don’t even recognize my own voice, let alone the soft tenor of hers. Katie has stilled again on Emily’s thighs.
“Jess,” Emily whispers. “Don’t frighten her.”
Frighten her? Don’t frighten her? Did she not hear what I heard?
“Say it again, baby,” I whisper, afraid that I’m dreaming. My heart thumps triple-time in my chest.
“Mommy said shut up,” Katie repeats. She falls against Emily’s chest and buries her face at Emily’s sternum. It’s not enough. I need to hold her, touch her, feel that it’s real. That she spoke, and what she said is the truth.
Debbie told her to shut up. So she did.
How does a four-year old find that strength?
And how did she become brave enough to finally tell me at six?
I reach for her. My hands slip between their bodies, and I tug Katie to me, tuck her into my own chest. My head rests on the top of hers as I wrap my arms around her. I want nothing more than to cocoon her from the evil of what happened, to protect her against it ever happening again. And most of all, I want her to forgive me for ever letting it happen in the first place, even though it wasn’t my fault. Not directly.
I hold my breath as my heart thunders in my chest. I think I’m going to throw up, and I want nothing more than to get out of this suffocating crowd.
Then the first hiss fills the dark sky, and the black night bursts into color. A spray of fire in electric white jets upward, illuminating everything. Only I’m not watching. I’m not really seeing the display.
My child just spoke.
And what she told me makes my heart hurt.
The fireworks go on for what seems like an eternity. When they finally finish, I stand with Katie held tightly to my chest. I turn around, and my brother looks up at me.
“What’s wrong?” he asks, slowly standing.
“Katie just spoke.”
“What?” Karyn shrieks. She struggles to stand quickly, but I just want to get home. I just want to ask my daughter a million questions.
Jess, don’t frighten her.
Then I remember Emily.
I spin to face her. Her expression mirrors the mix of all my emotions. Elation. Concern. Fear.
“I need to get home.” I don’t know why that’s what I say.
“Of course. You need to go.” Emily pushes at my arm, and then Tom adds, “We got this stuff. Go.”
I walk away with Katie’s legs looped around my waist and her arms around my neck. Her leg kicks out, and I feel a tug to her body. I crane my neck around and realize Emily’s behind us, her hand on Katie’s outstretched ankle.
“Hold on to me so we don’t lose you,” I say. I stretch out my hand to hers, entwine our fingers, and lead us through the jumbled maze of bodies all trying to exit the marina area now that the fireworks have finished.
Eventually, we snake our way through the surge of bodies and walk the final street to my mom’s house. Mom, Tricia, and Pam sit in the front yard with bottles of wine standing on the grass between them.
“What’s wrong?” Mom says before I’ve crossed the lawn.
“Katie just spoke.” My voice should hold excitement, but I’m still too stunned.
“Praise Jesus,” Mom says, rising up from her yard chair and coming to me. I set Katie on the ground before me, and Mom squats before her. “Can you say something to Grandma?”
“Hello,” Katie says. It’s the sweetest sound, the prettiest word. A key has been turned in the lock on my heart, and a million pieces of light have been set free inside me. Mom holds out her arms, and Katie walks into them, knowing she’s safe in the trusted, loving embrace of my mother. Tricia and Pam hover, and it’s a beautiful moment for my family.
And then I turn.
Emily stands at the edge of the yard. The miracle worker. The fairy queen.
Oh my God, I’m a sap.
How did she do it?
Why did she do it?
What did I say to her before it happened?
Shut up, Emily.
I step toward her, but she steps back. Her feet move from the grass to the street.
“You take this moment, Jess.”
I’m overflowing with gratitude, but I can’t find the words to express it. Most of all, I owe her an apology, but I’m speechless and can only manage to mouth two words. “Thank you.”