Finding Emmie.

The Best Loser.

I am Emmie Henderson. 

My real name is Amelia.

Like my grandmother.

I don't hate the name Amelia.

But I don't want to be someone else.

I don't want to look like someone else.

I don't want to be named after someone else.

I want to look like me.

I want to have my own name.

I want to be Emmie.

No expectations.

Nothing to show up.

Just be Emmie.

Just show the world who I am.

But it's hard.

My mother is a real estate agent.

She's an important one.

Real rich.

We live in a big house.

It has a little lake in the backyard.

A small one.

My room looks over the lake.

I call it the Lake Room. 

It's the only room in the house that does that.

Except for the kitchen. 

When I was little my dad used to sing a lot.

He would sing as he flipped pancakes.

He flipped pancakes for me and my mom on Sunday mornings.

Singing Sundays. 

That's what he called them. 

Then they started the noise.

The noise was my code word for yelling. 

For screaming.

For the threats. 

"I'm done Sue!" My dad used to yell. "I'm here for Amelia.  Not you."

"Well Fuck you," My mom yelled back, "Pack your bags! I don't give a shit!" 

"She's up there Sue, she can hear, she's not deaf. She's smart. She'll know." My dad said, more quietly. He spoke softly. With daggers in his voice. He was not being gentle. He was not calm. He was furious. 

It carried on all night like this when I was five.

Then one day he was gone.

His stuff was gone.

My mom cried.

I cried.

I was the second kid in my kindergarden class whose parent's got divorced.

The other kid was Ethan Mcwright. 

That's when I started liking Ethan.

He was cute.

Blond hair.

Brown eyes.

We talked a lot. 

Then his mom got remarried in second grade.

We stopped talking. 

My dad got remarried to a lady named Jean a year later. 

I was in third grade.

I had to go to the wedding. 

Then he had a kid.

A girl.

"Emmie," My mom had said on December 21st, "Richard and Jean had a girl."

I didn't understand.

Richard was my dad.

Jean was his wife. 

Like my mom had been.

And they had a child?

But I was supposed to be his child!

What about me?

"Her name is Flora." My mom continued, showing me a picture on her iphone.

I didn't like Flora.

She was bald.

She was pink.

She was small.

She was my sister.

My half-sister.

And after that my dad stopped inviting me to his house.

My mom's career took off.

I stayed with my Grandma, Josaline , almost everyday. 

I felt alone.

Dont get me wrong, I loved my grandma.

She was wacky and fun.

But I was second prize now. 

I was no longer my dad little girl.

That was Flora. 

I was his second little girl.

In a marriage that crashed and burned.

To my mom, It was work.

She married her work. 

She forgot about me.

Staying with grandma until late at night.

Later and Later.

Then the day she didn't pick me up at all.

My grandma dropped me at school.

I hadn't seen my mom in a day.

I cried.

The teacher called my mom and she picked me up.

Then we bought ice cream.

And she tried her best to juggle family, and work.

She did a lousy job. 

I was second to Flora.

I was second to work. 

I was second place.

Second prize.

Second is a consolation.

"Good Job! Your the best loser!"

I was the best loser. 

I lost my family.

After that I hated second place. 

But that sucked for me.

Emmie didn't like second place,

But Emmie always came in second place.