ABW Three Friends: Chapter 01

Chapter 1

Emma stood by the window watching the rain fall on the blacktop driveway where the basketball hoop once stood. That seven-foot plastic monstrosity with the plexi-glass backboard and tattered net had been disposed of years ago. Despite that, Emma could never forget the good times. The times when her father helped her practice for the high school basketball team. A time when he was still alive. The rain fell heavily that morning; as did the memories.

Pink-painted fingernails twirled the tungsten wedding ring. Everything her father had was either sold, donated, or disposed of within the weeks following his death. This ring, with three golden bands engraved around it, was all she had left.

Her eyes fluttered back up to the window, but it wasn’t the rainy outside she peered into this time. She caught a glimpse of her reflection. A hand gingerly flicking back her dark blonde hair. Eyes as blue as a clear summer sky stared back at her. Why are you doing this to yourself? Asked those icy eyes. She pulled away from her reflection and returned her attention to the ring in her hand.

What did Dad say the three golden bands meant? She pondered the question as the memento played along her finger-tips. After a moment, she recalled the meaning. One was for her mother; whom had died in a car accident nearly a decade ago. The other for himself. The third was for Emma. It meant the three of them would be together forever. Forever.

The edges of her eyelids grew inflamed. Water blurred her vision. The word forever repeated in her mind, along with the officer whom showed up at the door when she was nine years old to tell them there had been an accident. The word forever repeated again, with the memory of sitting on the couch with her father just four years later, when he said he had cancer. Forever was an awful word. Forever never lasted long.

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“Alright, Em,” her father said. “How are you going to dribble the ball past me?”

Emma desperately searched for an opening in her father’s wide defensive stance. Bouncing the ball off the space between his legs and moving around him quick enough to catch it seemed impossible; although some talented athletes could pull it off. Pivoting around one of his out-stretched arms, but that would leave her open to get the ball stolen. Shooting from here, two feet away from the three-point line, looked like the only option.

“You need to make a move here, hun.”

She continued bouncing the ball in the same spot, hoping that an opportunity might show itself. Behind her, it sounded like a car pulled up and two doors had slammed. If she turned, the distraction would cost her the game. Her father taught her that. Focus.

“Paul,” a woman from the car called out, “would you mind helping us with these bags?”

“Us?” Emma asked her father with an expression of disgust and confusion. Who was the woman? She didn’t sound like anyone Emma knew. With an unintended audience, Emma wanted to be extra certain she didn’t fail.

Her eyes observed her father’s movements—a moment of hesitation, a brief drop in his defense, anything to tell her the time to strike is now. And there it was. He faltered a moment, caught off-guard by the arrival of his guest. The opportunity Emma awaited. When his out-stretched arms drooped a few inches, she took the ball left, found her hot spot, and sunk the shot in the net with ease.

“That’s game,” Dad said.

“No, we’re playing to twenty-one.”

“That wasn’t twenty-one?”

“Fifteen, Dad.”

“These bags,” the woman said again. “We could really use your help here, Paul.”

His eyes focused on Emma and his mouth opened as if he would say something, perhaps explain the intrusion—the words never came. Was that an apology in his eyes? A tinge of guilt? His face spoke words he could never utter. The regret of a conversation he never had with his daughter. Eyes that whispered, “I’m sorry, I forgot to tell you.” This was a surprise to both of them. It seemed the woman had arrived earlier than he expected. But, who was she?

“Dad?” Emma held the ball up against her hip.

“Later, sweetheart,” he gave her a kiss on the top of her head and jogged briskly toward the woman and a young girl as they pulled luggage from the trunk of her green sedan.

The woman looked like a model from a magazine. Maybe she was. Long blonde hair, slightly curled down past her chest. A pink button-down blouse with a light frilly hem. A faded blue denim skirt with long tanned legs reaching into shiny black leather stilettos. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. This was Mom’s replacement.

But, I thought we had fun, Dad; she wanted to say. Just you and me, eating pizza on the couch while watching action movies, basketball, and wrestling. Working on homework together after school. Playing basketball in the driveway. Just you and me, Dad. You and me…and now them.

“Emma, I’d like you to meet Catherine and her daughter, Ashley.”

It didn’t matter what Dad said. That smile belied his sorrow. Emma tilted her head and sucked her cheek, that mad face she made. It didn’t matter that her father felt bad about not telling her sooner. Even if he did tell her, she’d still be upset. Four years. That’s all it took? Four years to forget the only woman he vowed to love?

“Emma, it’s nice to meet you,” Catherine said.

She seemed nice. But, nice didn’t matter. Emma slammed the ball against the blacktop, only to have it caught by Catherine and shot into the basket.

“I used to play basketball when I was your age,” Catherine explained. “I even went to college on a basketball scholarship.”

Nothing phased Emma. She didn’t like the woman or her daughter moving into her family’s house.

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That was in 2001—five years ago, now. Emma was thirteen-years old. A lot had changed since then. Catherine and her daughter moved in. Dad married her soon after. Everything seemed great…before the years of pain to follow. Before she knew. And then…

Emma knew where her mind was leading and shook the sorrowful thoughts from her head before the tears could form again. And like the rain outside, pounding against the window with audible ferocity, so it poured heavily in her heart. No matter how much Emma wanted to paint Catherine as the evil stepmother, she couldn’t. Catherine was a genuinely nice woman. She looked after Emma as if she were every bit her daughter that Ashley was. A good woman, a nurse and caretaker of her father, and not a bad stepmother.

Rather than allow herself another puddle of tears in her pity-party, Emma pulled herself away from the window. Jenni should be here soon, driving from her dorm room on campus. Milena can walk over from the house next door any time she likes. Time to put away her sorrow and don a happy face. It wasn’t all niceties, she truly would be happy after spending just a few minutes with her friends.

And that thought finally caused a smile to form at the corners of her lips.