After She Said 'I Do'

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving had come and it seemed like Austin had only left yesterday and he was already back once again. Emily sighed. She was still feeling an array of emotions from returning home a couple of weeks ago. She finally started to ease down since Austin had left but it was like he left one day and came back the next—it wasn't enough time for Emily to regroup and collect herself. She felt incredibly guilty for feeling like this. She felt very selfish, wanting Sue for herself when she is Austin's wife. She was betraying her own flesh and blood, her own brother. It was hard for her to grasp sometimes.

Emily sighed and fell back onto her bed, letting out a huff. She grabbed the pillow from behind her and brought it to her face—a scream vibrated into the fabric of the pillow and Emily tossed it back behind her when she felt some sort of relief.

"Fuck." She whispered harshly, forcing herself off her bed. She stood up and flattened out her disheveled forest green plaid dress. She knew she couldn't act like this—it would be painfully obvious in front of everyone at the Thanksgiving party that she was in distress about everything.

It was four o'clock in the afternoon and guests were slowly starting to trickle in one after the other. Dinner was set for five o'clock, but arriving an hour early to socialize and get comfortable was always the game plan for events like this. Austin and Sue had arrived a few hours prior—Sue went to work in the kitchen and helped Maggie, Mrs. Dickinson and Lavinia prepare the Thanksgiving feast while Austin talked about work and had drinks with Mr. Dickinson in the parlor. Aunt Lavinia arrived at four o'clock on the nose, followed by Jane and her usual crew, Mr. and Mrs. Humphrey, George and Ship, a handful of neighbors from around town, and finally a few of Mr. Dickinson's colleagues.

The first floor of the house was full of people chatting, laughter, classical music playing, and appetizers and drinks spread out on fancy tables in the parlor and dining room. Emily could hear it all from her bedroom in which she still had not left. She was trying to prepare herself to act normal, well, as 'normal' as Emily Dickinson could be. What was normal anyway—Emily thought before snapping back to reality.

She breathed out one last sigh before opening her bedroom door and making her way toward the staircase. She knew she had to just bite the bullet and go—she couldn't hide all night and she had already been hiding since Austin and Sue arrived. She typically didn't act this way in front of Austin and Sue; she was pretty much always able to keep her cool. But her feelings are strong and they are valid. She is in love with Sue and seeing them together in that way makes her blood boil. It has progressively gotten more apparent that Emily was having a difficult time keeping her cool now that Austin was home. She was already getting used to Sue being alone at the Evergreens and Austin out fighting. She liked her alone time with Sue. And though she did also get a thrill out of sneaking around together, she certainly was still feeling incredibly distraught.

She arrived downstairs and made her way toward the dining room where she spotted the wine. She grabbed a glass and poured a generous amount for herself.

"I'm going to need this," Emily mumbled to herself before taking a huge sip of the red poison in her glass. To Emily, it was poison. When she had that liquid courage, anything went and sometimes the things she would say would come out like word vomit—no filter whatsoever.

"Brace yourself, Dickinson," She mumbled again. She took another sip and the drink was already gone. She poured another and then made her way throughout the house greeting everyone she saw as she passed on through.

"Happy Thanksgiving, Emily!" Abby called out from across the open corridor. Alongside her was Jane, Abiah, and Toshiaki.

Emily nodded and walked toward the group. She wasn't best friends with them by any means, but she was friendly enough with them to make light conversation and such. She despised Jane, though. Always had and always will. She scoffs at the thought of how she treated her in school growing up before approaching the group.