“Baby, sometimes love just ain’t enough,” Caroline said.
I rolled my eyes, my tears beginning to subside. This wasn’t the time to be quoting country songs. Or maybe it was. I probably wasn’t an expert on that.
“LA proved too much for the man,” Caroline said, winking at Sloane.
But I didn’t find it funny, not at all. I sniffed and wiped my eyes and said, “Caroline, what is wrong with you? I’m having a real life crisis, and you’re having karaoke night.”
“He’s leavin’,” Sloane crooned.
“On that midnight train to Georgia,” Caroline chimed in.
“Leavin’ on that midnight train,” they both added together.
They’d had too much wine. That was certain. I was beginning to get warm, fuzzy feelings, remembering all those good moments with my sisters when we were growing up, as Caroline sang, “I’d rather live in his world,” and Sloane chimed in, “Than live without him in mine.”
But I realized something all at once. It hit me so hard that it took my breath away. As my sisters inhaled, I interrupted them, tears streaming down my face. “I’d rather live inmyworld.”
Sloane took my hand. “Oh, honey. Don’t cry. It’s OK.”
Caroline put her arm around me and pulled me close to her, as I put my head in my hands. “What is wrong with me?” I sobbed. “You should pick true love. I feel like the most selfish person in the world.”
Sloane gently took my hands off my face. “That’s the thing, sweet Emmy. When it’s true love, you make a different choice.”
I wasn’t sure I believed that then. But either way, despite my sadness, I knew Mark and I had done the right thing. I looked out the window, where I could see the light on at Jack’s house. I knew that the one person who could make me feel better, the one I had been so horrible to, was over there. I had always done this, pushed her away when I needed her the most. I had to go over there. I had to apologize. And it made me wish I could get on the midnight train, not to Georgia, but going absolutely anywhere else.
THIRTY-THREE
ansley: the far corners of siberia
After Emerson had told me about her canceled engagement, she said something that shocked me: “I’m so sorry, Mom.”
It was an apology I hadn’t expected, honestly. But it was one I felt I deserved.
Once she stopped crying, once she calmed down, I said, “Honey, I am so sorry about Mark. And I am so sorry about everything these past few months. I think you know that.” I cleared my throat, trying not to cry. “But to think you could even consider that I didn’t love your father is just...”
I trailed off, and she shook her head. “I shouldn’t have said that, Mom. I was just trying to hurt you.”
I nodded. “You did an excellent job.” Then I smiled sadly. “Is it time for the more-fish-in-the-sea conversation?”
Emerson laughed sadly and took a deep breath. “I’ll find my fish. I just really wanted it to be Mark, you know? I wanted us to want the same things.”
“Oh, honey,” I said. “I wanted it to be Mark, too.”
Even once Emerson stopped crying, I couldn’t sleep. I was so worried about her. She hadn’t been herself at all lately, and between her health and this tumultuous engagement, I couldn’t possibly close my eyes and drift off. I just sat there stroking her long hair, wanting more than anything to wash the dried mascara off her face.
The small-town mother in me wanted my child to move home, marry Mark, have babies, and go to lunch with me. I wouldn’t have to worry about her anymore. She wouldn’t be facing the world alone with Mark there to take care of her, wouldn’t be living her life as a series of triumphs and failures, oftentimes ones that the entire world was there to see. But I knew that was what she loved about her life in LA—the rush, the full-throttle sense of living right on the edge, an ever-exhilarating day-to-day existence. It was a love affair that never ended, one that she loved more fiercely than she loved Mark. And I understood.
In the middle of the night, Jack came and sat beside me on the couch. He held my hand, and I laid my head on his shoulder until we both drifted off. When I woke up the next morning, Emerson was gone.
“Why in God’s holy name do you keep me around?” I asked Jack.
All he said was, “Ans, I don’t get to walk her down the aisle.”
I smiled sadly and squeezed his shoulder. “Oh, honey. I’m so sorry.”
“I thought it would help,” he said. “Maybe give us a bond that I don’t have with Caroline and Sloane, even the score in her mind a little.”
I shrugged. “Maybe. But I think you’ll get there with her anyway. I have to believe that it will all work out.”
