I could still picture Emmet’s face…the hurt in his eyes. It was stupid, but I cried.
My eyes ached and I tried to hold back more tears, unsuccessfully. I couldn’t keep my emotions buried. Once the first tears fell, the quiet flood began. The betrayal I felt from everything Lawrence had done—all the lies, my misplaced trust. For the first time I mourned the loss of the life I left behind, or maybe more accurately, the illusion of the life I thought I had.
The tears had ceased when Emmet came upstairs. He quietly stepped into my room and put my keys on the nightstand. I knew it was an excuse to come to my room. Emmet preferred for everyone to hang their keys in the key box downstairs. There was a low creek as I heard him settle in my reading chair. I believe he wanted to talk, but my eyes were puffy from crying and I was absolutely exhausted.
12
Looking in the mirror at my swollen eyes, one would have sworn I had been beaten. I must have been crying in my sleep. I wondered how long Emmet had stayed and if he had heard me. I draped a cold washcloth over my eyes and lay back in bed. I debated. Would Emmet listen if I explained everything to him? Was it fair to wait until Sunday—fair to me; fair to him? No, it wasn’t fair, and, surprise or not, I would tell him this morning after the boys left for school.
I fixed a wonderful breakfast buffet and coffee exactly the way Emmet liked it. The table was set perfectly, Ms. Manners herself would have been proud. I stayed in my room until just before the boys left for the bus, remaining completely out of Emmet’s way to guarantee nothing would happen to make him gnarly at me. In fact, I went out of my way to put him in a good mood. I even double-checked his pinstriped suit was pressed well and ready for his meeting that afternoon before heading downstairs.
Something was already wrong. Emmet was in his office banging things around and he barked at me to walk the boys to the bus stop. They looked at me and shrugged. I shrugged back and the three of us made our way out the door and down the driveway.
When I came back inside Emmet was on the phone berating someone. I took a deep breath and headed back upstairs. Although a little part of me was glad Emmet was criticizing someone besides me, this was not the time to try to make amends.
The boys arrived home at 11:30. It was their last day of school—a half day. The weather was miserable and after lunch they were complaining there was nothing to do. They enjoyed the reptile room for a couple hours, but when we walked out the look of boredom returned to their faces.
“What’s in these rooms?” I asked pointing to two closed doors.
“Christmas decorations, winter stuff, some of Mom’s stuff,” Josh
replied, uninterested.
“Maybe there’s something in there we can play with.” They were both skeptical but followed me in anyway. We searched through boxes until an idea hit me. “Let’s play aliens and astronauts.”
“Aliens and astronauts?” Eli asked.
“Like cowboys and Indians, but much more fun!”
Neither of the boys sounded impressed.
An hour later we had transformed the basement into an intergalactic world. There were white Christmas lights, three lava lamps, and alien creatures made from some of Emmet’s clothes using balloons for heads and bodies stuffed with newspaper. We searched the garage for weapons and came upon short pieces of PVC pipe. Decorating the piping and ourselves in tin foil and sparkly Christmas cotton it all came together. Now, we were ready for battle.
Josh turned on the movie Star Wars and I cranked up the volume until the walls were reverberating in surround sound. We ran through the basement shooting at each other with mini marshmallows propelled through the PVC piping—our weapons. Josh and Eli also had toy guns with suction cup darts they shot at the other aliens.
The two had hunkered down behind one of the couches and I was tucked behind the entertainment center reloading. They jumped out ready to pepper me with more marshmallows when the sound gradually went quiet. In the heat of battle I absently turned my “gun” toward the stereo and fired. A marshmallow hit Emmet in the head—right between his eyes.
“Good shot,” he scolded.
“Daddy!” Eli yelled, bounding toward him in his makeshift astronaut suit. Fastened to his clothing was a blanket of glittery Christmas cotton, his snow boots and bike helmet were both covered in tin foil. “We’re playing aliens and astronauts,” he exclaimed. “Annie’s the alien.”
“Creative,” Emmet remarked, taking in the adapted surroundings of lights, aliens—dressed in his clothing—and marshmallows littered on the floor.
“Josh and I are winning,” Eli said, pointing to the other aliens wearing plastic suction cups on their heads. I was momentarily speechless.
“For dinner we’re having peanut butter and alien slime sandwiches,” Josh added. Emmet looked to me for translation.
“Peanut butter and jelly,” I stated, feeling ridiculous in my alien outfit. Emmet gave me a slow look up and down. I had a foil-covered colander tied to my head, a white dress fastened with a foil-covered belt, a crisscross of foil across my chest, and foil-covered calf-height boots. I was dressed for Halloween and Emmet looked impeccable in his pinstriped suit and power tie.
“Peanut butter and alien slime,” he repeated.
“And alien urchins…,” Josh continued. Emmet’s eyes were on me again for translation.
“Bananas,” I whispered.
“With alien eyeballs—covered in alien blood,” Eli added.
“Red grapes and citrus yogurt,” I finished, with my eyes on the ground feeling like a complete moron in my alien outfit.
“Creative,” Emmet commented again.
“We did Annie’s hair too. Just like Princess Leia,” Josh continued. “Show him Annie.”
“Yes, show me, Annie,” Emmet echoed. I removed my headgear, wishing I had the power to disappear, and unveiled my lopsided hair style the boys had fashioned me with: two braids twisted and affixed to my head with enough bobby pins to set off a metal detector. Emmet pursed his lips, possibly hiding a grin.
“I didn’t come home to spoil the fun. I had to change my tie before my dinner meeting,” he said, motioning to a barely noticeable coffee stain on his tie. I put my alien helmet back on not sure if it was better or worse than showing off my hair style.
“We’re going to write a story too, Dad,” Josh said, without prompting. “Annie said since you like to tell us stories we should make one up for you.”
“So, Annie’s heard my stories?”
“Just the King’s Secret, but she liked it,” Josh said, standing proudly. I closed my eyes regretfully. Was there anything else they could say to make this worse?
“Did you tell her the secret?” Emmet asked, looking a bit concerned.
“No Dad. It’s a secret,” Josh said with a roll of his eyes.
“We have a secret too!” Eli squealed. “A secret mission you don’t
