Serendipity

chapter 18

TW: Elizabeth still being a horrible mother.
A lot less angst, you’re welcome. xxx

Emily had woken up from a heated conversation going on in her lounge. She heard Isabella’s voice, but not JJ. She made it over to the door just in time to hear the tail end of Isabella’s speech. She had said Emily would have been a great mom, it made her heart skip happily. Then it stopped beating all together. “Did you just tell my mother to go fuck herself?”

Isabella turned to her slowly, “Uh, yes?” she sounded unsure, Emily thought it was cute. She tilted her head to the side and narrowed her eyes at the girl. Isabella started rambling, “She was being a bitch! She said mean things about you, and JJ…someone had to put her in her place, and she already doesn’t like me. I wasn’t planning on it, I just wanted her to stop trying to bother you. She was being annoying. I called her grandma, also. I think that might have been worse. She said we’re lying about you being my mum, why? Why would we lie? I don’t get it. She…she called JJ a hussy, Emily! A hussy! I couldn’t just let her do that!” Emily walked over to her and pulled her into a hug. That got her to stop talking. JJ was quietly snickering, still standing in the same spot she had been for the entire exchange. “It’s okay. Thank you.” The sweetness of the moment was interrupted by Emily’s stomach, reminding them that they hadn't eaten yet. Isabella giggled, “Are we going out to eat somewhere, or can I make something?”

xxx

JJ and Emily had sat at the island counter as Isabella cooked. She looked at home in the kitchen, Emily noted. She wondered if her mom had taught her. Emily had learned what little she knew from the various chefs they had while she was growing up, Elizabeth Prentiss did not cook. Emily wasn’t even sure she would have been able to find the kitchen in most of the places they lived. Presently, she had been given cheese to grate, and JJ was chopping up potatoes, Isabella had something searing in a pan, and it smelled devine. “Tell us a story from when you were a kid.” Emily suddenly asked, she supposed she was feeling a bit sad at not having had this mother/daughter kitchen experience like JJ and Isabella did. She already knew how much Sandy Jareau had loved when JJ helped out in the kitchen, rare as it was. JJ was an outside child, and Sandy had told her how much she cherished the moments. “Uhm, what kind of story?” “Anything, a funny story. I want to know what little Isabella was like.” Isabella thought for a moment, “Okay. When I was about 3, I had this little toy piano. I loved that thing. When it stopped working for whatever reason, my dad opened it up to see if it was something he could fix. I was very interested in what he was doing, so I sat on the opposite side of the table from him to watch. He started taking out the screws and lining them up on the table, but I kept taking the screws and playing with them. He told me a couple of times to leave the screws alone, but I wouldn’t. At one point, after he told me off again, I pointedly asked him who the piano belonged to. He told me it was mine, what was the point. So my smart mouth said to him ‘If the piano is mine, and the screws are from the piano, then the screws are mine too. I’m allowed to play with them’.” Emily nearly tipped off of the stool laughing. “I wouldn’t have expected anything less from you. You do share DNA with Emily.” JJ said through giggles. “What’s that supposed to mean?” Emily pretended to be offended, in reality, she loved how comfortable the whole situation was. “It’s supposed to mean, Emily Prentiss, that you are the most smart assed, defiant person I have met in my life. And this one,” she pointed at Isabella, “Is a very close second.” Emily gaped at her, then clicked her tongue and said, “Oh but you love us.” “For some inexplicable reason, yes I do.” She gave Emily a peck on the cheek.

The disaster of a brunch with her mother two days ago had yet to be handled. Her mother hadn’t tried to contact her again, mind you. Isabella must have really put her in her place. The phone rang twice before Elizabeth answered, “Emily. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Emily flinched at the icy tone. Elizabeth could hold a grudge, that she knew. “Can I come see you? We need to talk.” She figured the conversation was one best had in person. Elizabeth, it seemed, didn’t agree. “I’m a very busy woman, Emily. You can say what you need to say now.” Emily wasn’t sure why the woman so easily got to her anymore. She was used to the treatment. “Mother.” “No. I don’t have the time for your frivolous whims. If you have nothing constructive to share, I need to get going.” That was what Emily had needed to break the ties. “Wow, you just made this a whole lot easier. I am done being your puppet. I am done with you treating me like a child. I am done listening to you tell me that I’m not good enough. I’m done. So you go back to pretending you don’t have a daughter, because as of right now, you don’t. Goodbye.” She ended the call before waiting for a reply. She really was done.