Vixen - h.s.

one

Wendy's motor rumbled. Emmalyn gripped the steering wheel tightly, her knuckles turning white as she willed her to keep moving forward. Wendy was her granny's car before hers, and the grape juice she spilled on the seat in the back nearly twelve years ago was still vibrant. The old car had some work done over the years, but Emmalyn was willing to hold onto her as long as possible. It was very convenient not having a car note to pay, especially while in college. She did the job, bringing her several minutes off campus to work and the occasional trip to target with friends, but it's been about an hour and a half on the road, and Wendy was feeling it. It really took a two hour drive from campus to Emmalyn's hometown, but she was hitting close to ninety on the freeway. She took the exit off and navigated her way through the familiar streets of her old neighborhood.
Emmalyn hadn't seen her mother since she left for college last August, and it had been an adjustment for both of them. They hadn't been particularly close for a while, but the distance was definitely hard for her mother. About two years ago, she began dating a man from a large company who had plenty of money. They were happy for a while, but Emmalyn noticed changes in her mother, and saw right through her boyfriends friendly demeanor. He manipulated her right in front of Emmalyn's eyes, and it caused a tension between them when her mother didn't want to believe her. He ended up having a wife with three children and she left him soon after. Even though things were better after that, there was still heat in their conversations and resentment on Emmalyn's end. It took her a while to forgive her mother for being so blind and putting them both through that, but even after she did, things still weren't the same.
Her heart skipped a beat when she pulled into the driveway, anticipating the reunion with her mother. For some odd reason, she went to knock on the front door, as if this hadn't been her home for most of her life. She checked to see if the door was locked and stepped in. The house was quiet, a faint smell of lemon coming from the kitchen. It wasn't strange; her mother loved to bake and lemon cookies were a favorite. No surprise, when she walked into the kitchen, there was a plate of them on the counter, sprinkled with powdered sugar. Emmalyn smiled to herself and felt like she was a child again. She turned back toward the door to go retrieve her bags from the car and bumped into her mother on the way.
"I thought I heard you come in," she said. Emmalyn saw her eyes glaze over and embraced her mother tightly. "I've missed you so much."
Violet was a small woman, barley into her forties, looking like she was almost in her thirties. She had red locks like her daughter, they shared the same clear blue eyes and the very same hands that they held each other with now. She was shorter than her daughter, but the twenty years she had ahead of her daughter was visible in her eyes. She's a wise woman, and Emmalyn always admired her for it.
"Mom," Emmalyn whispered into her mothers shoulder. "You made them."
"Your favorite," Violet pulled her daughter away from her to see her face. She put her hand to Emmalyn's cheek and smiled. "I didn't have time to shop and get  dinner together, but I had everything for the cookies. I hope you don't mind takeout for tonight."
"I don't," Emmalyn was use to takeout after this first year of college. "But I am starving. What did you have in mind?"
"I ordered China King, I hope that's okay."
"Perfect," Emmalyn moved around her mother to go back into the kitchen toward the cookies. "Should we go and pick it up?"
"Actually, it's already being picked up," Emmalyn turned from the plate to her mother. Violet was smiling, holding her hands together tightly.
"What?"
"I met someone," her mother giggled from across the island between them. "He is amazing, Em. I can't wait for you to meet him."
It was like a punch to her chest. Right away, Emmalyn flashed back two years ago when her mother was last in a relationship. The fear struck through her like she was a child again. By the expression she held, Violet could tell her daughter was worried.
"I swear to you, Em, he's not like Paul," hearing his name made her shudder. "He is kind and gentle, he has an amazing job-"
"Paul had an amazing job, too," she reminded her. "You don't need someone taking care of you. You've always been fine."
Since Emmalyn was very young, Violet brought men in and out of their lives. She had her fair share of good partners, but most of them used Violet's kindness and loving heart to their advantage.
"I know you're worried, and I love you always for that. But I assure you, Harry is something special."
"Harry," she tried the name out on her tongue. She saw a balding old man in her mind, wearing a nice suit and a bead of sweat on his forehead from a long day at work. Her mind ran back to Paul. She didn't want her relationship with Violet to suffer again, and she was sure it wouldn't take much.
A car door shut outside of the house. They both turned their heads toward the door and Violet's worried face turned bright. "Just please...have an open mind." Violet ran toward the door. "Just in time!" She could hear her say. Emmalyn's mind swam all around. She hoped this summer back home could be peaceful, even with this new guy around.
They turned the corner into the kitchen together, the smell of Chinese takeout overpowering the lemon cookie in Emmalyn's hand. He wasn't going bald like Paul was, that's for sure. He had curls draped around his face—...his face. He had to be younger than thirty. He stood almost a foot taller than her mother, a crooked smile rising when he locked eyes with her.
"Hi," he said, holding his hand out for her to take. She shook it, not able to find words. Why was she so shy all of a sudden?
"Em, this is Harry," Violet said, looking back and forth at the both of them. "Harry, this is my daughter Emmalyn."
"Very nice to meet you, Emmalyn," he took his bottom lip into his mouth.
"Hi," she finally said, quite low, but he was able to hear her. "Where are you from?" She noticed his accent and he smiled.
"Cheshire, in England," the grin never left his face. Violet was watching her face carefully, Harry clutched to her side.
"Interesting," Emmalyn nodded once and eyed the bags of food he was carrying. Harry moved past the women and placed the takeout on the countertop. They ate together around the island, all the while, Emmalyn asked Harry basic enough questions to get a better sense of who he was. He moved from England to America for school and works as a financial advisor in Los Angeles. He and Violet met through work related friends and began seeing each other after a holiday party just a few short months ago. Her guard was up, but based off of this evening, Emmalyn thought he was nice enough.
"I'm going to get my bags," she moved to exit the kitchen after dishes were cleared. "They're still in the car."
"I'll grab them for you," Harry stood quickly to beat her there. "Sit down, I'm sure you had a long trip today."
"Sure," Emmalyn gave him a smile. She couldn't be sure if he was playing nice just because it was day one. "They're all in the back seat."
Violet looked to her daughter with wide eyes. "Isn't he lovely?"
"He's very sweet," she nodded to her mother. "He's...young."
"Em, he's not so young. He's very mature and has a fabulous job, I think he's very good for me."
"How old is he?"
"Emmalyn..." her smile faded but Emmalyn pressed on.
"Mom?"
"He'll be twenty-seven next year," she got up from her seat and walked to the sink to rinse the dishes. She was only looking for something to do with her hands, afraid of her daughters response.
"He's twenty-six?" She turned in her chair to look at Violet.
"Fourteen years isn't too bad," her back was to her, but she could sense the eyes she gave her mother.
"I'm not...judging...but—"
"But, there's a but." She turned the sink off and faced her.
"He's six years older than me," Emmalyn smiled a bit, thinking about this fact.
"Please don't put it that way," she sat in the seat next to her. "He's kind and honest and loving. I really do like him."
"Where does he stay?"
"Here, most nights," she was checking her facial expressions. "I-- ...I get very lonely, Em."
"I know, mom," she reached out to hug her. "I am glad you're happy. Really."
This felt like the same routine. She knew her mother was happy now, but how long could it last? It was painful to admit, but Violet didn't have the best taste in men. She never had. It's true, Emmalyn liked Harry. But she also liked Paul in the beginning. It was too soon to think anything really, but she was glad to be home for the entire summer just in case she had to clean a mess up for her mom...again.