The Zoo

EMERALD

I stared out of the passenger side window, holding a bag of frozen peas on my bruised hand while we sat in deadlock traffic.

After hitting my brother, I had turned around and left, leaving him cupping his face in shock. I’d gut-checked Lance plenty of times before, and I’d punched his arm more.

Never, not even in the middle of the worst fights we had while growing up, have I ever ~wanted~ to hurt him like that.

To be fair, he’d never said anything that—mean to me before, either.

He’d said things that ~could have~ been hurtful, but he was always a master of delivery, softening the blow so I got his point without the slap to the face.

~Yellow is a happy color, and it’s great you’re trying to deviate from black and gray, but you’re too pale to pull off that much of it without looking a little sick. Maybe you can tone it down with a jacket or something?~

~That dress suits you from the waist up, but it poofs out and makes you look like you’re trying too hard to hide a baby bump or something. Dear God, tell me that’s not what you’re doing.~

I sighed and took the peas off my hand, flexing my fingers and letting my head fall back to the headrest.

“He didn’t mean it, Emerald,” Tate said, looking at me.

“He did. Lance never could stop his brain from shooting out the bare honesty when he’s worked up.”

I shook my head and put the peas back on my knuckles. “He might not have intended to say it quite that way, but he meant it.”

“He regretted it as soon as he said it, you know,” he said after a small moment.

“I know.” I sighed.

“I’m sorry, Emerald. I should have waited for you to tell him.” He sighed and ran his hand down his face.

“Clearly,” I agreed softly.

“I just keep fucking up with you, don’t I?” He groaned.

“Lucky for you, I seem to be insanely forgiving where you’re concerned. Fucking annoying.” I throw the bag of peas onto his lap. “For the record, I still blame you for this.”

“You should,” he muttered.

“But I’m not mad.” I huffed out a long sigh. “I want to be because that was ~really~ fucking stupid on your part. You’re lucky he didn’t pummel you before storming after me.”

“I would feel better if you were furious with me,” he admitted. “I put a huge rift between you and your brother.”

“Stop that.” I pointed with my good hand. “You didn’t do that. You may have been the one that started that shitshow, but Lance was the one that ran it over a cliff. You’re guilty about the wrong thing, Tate.”

“What does it matter? Guilty is guilty, no matter how you look at it.” He snorted.

“A bird flew in front of my car and I hit it. Means I’m a murderer, right?”

“I hate it when you make a point,” he muttered as we crept forward. “Did you have to kick him out of your apartment, too, though?”

“One of us was going to end up staying with Mom when she gets out of the hospital. I can’t make that kind of commute every morning.” I shrugged.

“You don’t have a job anymore, remember?” He smirked at me, looking suspiciously like he was gloating.

“An unavoidable result of our current situation.” I groaned. “You wouldn’t happen to know of anyone looking for an assistant that pays more than you did, would you?”

“Why do you need more?” he asked. “Nevermind. I saw your apartment.”

“Okay, ouch. Dick.” I smiled at his teasing look. “And it’s not really for me.”

“Lance can’t get a temp job or something?”

“So long as it’s minimal risk, yeah, but it’s hard finding somewhere that’ll hire him on leave.

“He’s home now, and he has a maximum of a month, but if something happens and his unit is called in early, there’s little to no notice,” I explained.

“Even if he wanted to bag groceries for a few weeks, it’s not likely to happen. He gets paid well enough and it’s not like he has a wife or kids to spend his money while he’s gone and there isn’t much to buy where he’s sent.”

“Understandable.” He nodded.

“It’s not for Lance, either.” I frowned. “He puts away a little bit of his pay and sends the rest to me to help with Mom.

“With the insurance money from Dad, what they had saved over their marriage, and what Lance was able to send, it was enough for a while.

“I didn’t have a job worth shit for a while so all the cushion we had got eaten away pretty quickly. The savings are empty, the insurance money is gone…

“Do you have any idea how much electricity one old lady uses? Probably a very bad example, though.

“She forgets to turn off lights or shut the fridge or turn off the water. She’ll take five showers in a day because she can’t remember if she took one already.”

“Can’t remember? Emerald, your mother has Alzheimer’s, doesn’t she?” Tate asked, looking at me with concern.

“Yeah.” I sighed and looked out the passenger window again. “She was diagnosed about a year after Dad died.

“Fun fact: you’re more likely to have Alzheimer’s if a parent or sibling had it. Guess what Poppah Jan died of?”

“How did your mother end up in the hospital yesterday?” he asked, reaching over the center console and holding my good hand.

“Overdosed on painkillers.” I closed my eyes. “I hired a nurse, but she can only work certain hours. It’s not been a problem because Mom has reminders all over the place, thanks to Barbara.

“The most anyone can guess is that Mom had some kind of pain, headache, backache, whatever. She took something for it, then forgot she took something, then took something, then forgot.

“Barbara wasn’t supposed to be in for another hour when the maintenance man went in and found her.”

“Shit. I’m sorry, Emerald. Why didn’t you say something sooner?”

“What could you have done?” I chuckled. “It’s not like you can fart a cure for this…this…~monster~ that’s destroying my mother.”

“No, but I ~can~ help.” He narrowed his eyes at me. “All you had to do was ask.”

“Well, I’m asking. I need a job that pays a shit ton for very little,” I replied.

“You know that I’m going to pay for your mom’s care now, right?” He lifted an eyebrow at me.

“No. No, Tate. Absolutely not.” I shook my head firmly and took my hand out of his. “I’ve taken care of her since her diagnosis. One more year and Lance is out of the military and can get a job. Until then, I can hold on.”

“What is the main job every husband has?” he asked forcefully. He almost sounded angry, though I’d bet my bunny slippers he was annoyed.

“To not irritate the wife.” I rolled my eyes. “Tate, you aren’t paying my mom’s bills.”

“No, his job is to make sure his wife is happy and taken care of,” he snapped and reached over, clamping his hand over my mouth when I tried to argue.

“Would you be happy knowing your mother was left alone for hours with a failing memory? After yesterday? No. You’d be worried sick and stressed and anxious, just like you are now.”

I narrowed my eyes at him and resorted to the fail-proof method of getting someone to let your mouth go.

“Emerald! Did you just ~lick~ my hand?” Tate jerked his hand back and wiped it on his pant leg.

“I did.” I nodded with no remorse at all as I crossed my arms. “You’re missing something pretty freaking major, Tate.

“We aren’t married. I’m not your wife. You aren’t my husband. Even when that changes, you aren’t paying a single cent. This is ~my~ family, Tate. My family, my problem.”

“That’s bullshit logic.” He pointed at me, moving closer and closer toward angry.

I like to believe I’m an intelligent woman. I know what to say, when to say it, and, more importantly, when ~not~ to say a damn thing.

This moment, in this car, with this man, is one hundred percent one of those moments where I ~really~ need to keep my mouth shut because what I want to say is going to blow the lid of this fucked-up can of Chernobyl worms.

I tried.

I really, ~really~ tried to keep it to myself. But Dad always said my mouth and inability to let an opportunity slip by was going to get me into a lot of trouble.

And that was exactly what was about to happen as I almost literally felt the words forming on my tongue, waiting for the breath that would give them life.

“This whole thing is bullshit, Tate! Every single thing about the past twenty-four hours is complete bullshit!”

I throw my hands up. “You know what? Fine. Fuck it. Do whatever the hell you want, Tate. It’s only temporary anyhow, right?

“I’m fucking tired.

“I’m worn out and exhausted.

“I thought that maybe spending time with you today might ease some of the ‘what the actual fuck’ that’s been bouncing around in my head like it’s goddamned bouncy castle since this morning.

“But the only thing it’s done is make it worse. So fuck it.”

I unbuckled my seat belt and got out of the car, flipping off the people that honked when Tate put it in park and jumped out after me.

“What are you doing, Emerald?” he shouted as I slammed the door and started weaving through the grid-locked traffic.

“You do whatever makes ~you~ feel better, Tate, and I’ll do what I’ve always done and take care of myself.” I waved over my shoulder as I reached the sidewalk and slipped into the foot traffic.

I heard him shouting my name a few times before I shook my head and went to the one place that always made me feel better.

The zoo.

It took a subway and a taxi to get there, but it always did the trick when I needed a pick-me-up.

Dad started it when they had first adopted Lance. He was angry and bitter and so full of hate at everything, which I understand now, but when I was six?

All I knew was that he said he hated me and he pushed me down at the playground when I tried to hug him.

~“Look at all of these happy faces, little gem,” he said, looking around as we walked from one exhibit to the next.~

~“Look. Even the grumpy old gorilla looks like he’s laughing. Kind of hard to frown with all of this joy in the air, huh?”~

~“Why does he not want us to be a family? I’ve always wanted a big brother, but he doesn’t want a stupid little baby sister,” I mutter as I kick a rock in the path.~

~“Well, my precious jewel, he’s hurting an awful lot. You see, he had a mommy and a daddy, but something bad happened.~

~“What do you think you would feel if something happened to me and Mommy and you were left all alone?”~

~“I don’t want anything to happen to you or Mommy!” I gasped and looked up at him, tears in my eyes already. “I’d be really, really sad!”~

~“Sometimes, when we hurt or feel ~super~ sad, we act the opposite of how we ~want~ to. When you fall and scrape your knee, you ~want~ someone to make you feel better, right?” he asked, and I nodded.~

~“But you’re also scared, so you yell and push us away, right?”~

~“But I just want my new big brother to like me.” I sniffed and rubbed my eyes with my little fists.~

~“It’s going to take some time for Lance to see that we just want him to feel better before he lets us close.”~

~Dad knelt in front of me, wiped my face with his big hands, and smiled at me. “But when he does, I know he’s going to ~love~ his amazing little sister.”~

I took a shaking breath as I stared at the sleeping tigers through the thick glass.

I really missed Dad right now. God, what would he think about all of this drama?

Nothing, probably. If he was still here, he’d be taking care of Mom. I never would have dropped out of college. I wouldn’t have even met Tate King.

Something about that thought made something inside me—somewhere I couldn’t name—recoil and screech in pain, like some mutated flesh-eating nightmare tulip with an aversion to fire.

~I knew there was a reason to always carry a lighter or some matches. Damn you, tiny purse!~

I sat down on the bench under the observation awning and sighed, letting my eyes close.

“I thought I’d find you here.” I heard a familiar voice.

I gasped, and my eyes shot open to meet the pale blue eyes of June Wells, my mother.

“Mom?” I blink in disbelief.

“Yes, that is what you call the birth-giver.” She chuckled and sat down beside me, and I looked around, finding Barbara not far away.

“What are you doing here and not at the hospital? Or home. You need to be resting.” I frown.

“Stop it.” She flicked my nose. “Lance came to the apartment with his bags. Said you two had a bit of a scuff. Sounds like my kids. He had a fat lip, too.

“Your father would probably be giving you that look. The frowny one that I think was supposed to be disappointment.

“He never could pull it off, though, because he could never feel disappointed in anything you or your brother did.”

“How bad is it?” I pulled a face.

“He’ll have his pretty face back in a day or two.” She chuckled and patted my knee. “So, not bad enough, in my opinion. He told me what he did to earn it. You should have gone for the balls.”

“Hey. I want nieces and nephews someday.” I snorted, and she laughed.

“He told me he’s worried about you.” She sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me you were paying the bills yourself, Emma? And don’t tell me you did and I forgot. I’ll have Barb hold you down while I tickle you.”

“I didn’t tell you for the same reason I didn’t tell him.” I rolled my eyes. “You have enough on your plate already.”

“I can’t remember half of it, so it never seems full,” she mused and gave me a teasing smirk.

“Very funny. But Lance has the military, which is one of his biggest dreams. He’s saving everything he can so that when it’s time, he doesn’t have to re-enlist.

“If I told him, he’d send more, then not have enough to stay home when he’s done. Or he’ll take longer tours. Or reenlist on principle.”

“So you think a shoebox apartment and Ramen noodles is the way to go?” She gave me a look that told me I was being stupid.

“I don’t have ~that~ many.” I rolled my eyes. “They’re easy to make when I get home after a long day. A girl can only eat so many sandwiches before they start to taste like cardboard and sandpaper.”

“I’m sick. Fine. I’ll give you that one. And your argument about Lance is pretty solid,” she said. “But you don’t have to give up your life to make everyone else’s easier, Emma.

“It’s not going to matter much if I’m in a home funded by the government or one of those fancy ones that seem like a spa for the forgetful. There’s a good chance I’m not going to remember it anyhow, so who cares?”

“~I~ care, Mom. Lance cares.” I glared at her. “Don’t even think about it.”

“And how are you going to pay for it? You already work full time. Unless you’ve discovered the cure to sleep, another job isn’t on the list,” she said.

“I just need a different job. One that pays more.” I shrugged.

“You know that’s stupid, right?” She turned to sit sideways on the bench and took my face in her hands.

“I don’t want to see you working a dead-end job when you have so much more in you. You’ve given up so much, taken care of everyone else. My selfless baby girl.

“But now, it’s time for you to think about what ~you~ want. What ~you~ need.”

“It’s not time for that.” I took her hands off my face and held them. “Lance doesn’t get home for good for another year. It’s not that long. Best part is, you won’t even remember most of it.”

“But you will.” She smiled softly. “Your father and I wanted so much more for both of you than this. A lot can happen in a year, baby girl. Don’t put off to tomorrow that which can be done today.”

“I hate it when you make a point,” I muttered, then laughed, remembering Tate had said the same thing not long ago.

“This man your brother told me about”—she smiled that tender motherly smile—“a bit nontraditional, getting married before dating.”

“How—?”

“I know my daughter, Emerald.” She squeezed my hands. “But you like him. A lot. You wouldn’t smile like a fool when you think about him if you didn’t.”

“What makes you think I was thinking about him?” I crossed my arms and leaned back on the bench, giving her an incredulous look.

“Because I still get that look when I think about your father.” She laughed and looked at the tigers. One had moved so it looked like they were snuggling.

“The tigers were always his favorite. They’re a lot like he was, you know? So big and powerful, but look at them.

“They look so damn adorable—you completely forget to notice the big freaking teeth and claws designed to shred us to bits.”

“Maybe ~you~ forget.” I laughed, and she shot a glare at me right as she reached out and swatted my nose.

“Men are irritating. I can’t begin to count the number of times your father tried to say something completely innocent and kind of sweet, but it came out ~stupid~,” she said.

She propped her elbow on the back of the bench and rested her head on her hand.

“The first ten years of our relationship were spent with him in the doghouse more often than not. He even spent a few nights on the couch.”

“Are we talking about Lance being stupid or Tate?” I asked.

“Both are men, right? It’s safe to assume this applies to both, just like it’s safe to assume they’ll do something like this again.” She laughed.

“Lance less frequently, but this Tate? He’s not familiar with you like your brother is. Which is why I’m going to give you this little bit of motherly wisdom, and you better take it to heart.

“The point of dating is to get to know one another, gradually, before marriage,” she said. “You’re doing things a little backward, baby girl.

“That’s going to put a lot of stress on this relationship when it’s at its most fragile.

“Taking the normal approach to these little problems that you two are going to have isn’t going to work. It’s going to destroy the affection so quick; it will be like me forgetting I had lunch. Barb? Have I had lunch?”

“Not yet,” Barb called from her place off to the side where she was giving us privacy.

“We should fix that. But I was saying something. What was it?” Mom looked confused.

“Backward relationship and normal approach,” I supplied.

“Oh. Right,” she snapped her fingers. “You’re learning about him, and he’s learning about you. There are going to be mistakes—on both of you.”

“Try not to hold it against him, okay? If he’s trying, ~really~ trying, a little forgiveness can be spared.”

“He’s just… He wants to mix things. ~His~ money, ~my~ life.” I shook my head.

“~Your~ responsibility, ~your~ family, ~your~ burden.” She nodded. “Have you stopped to think that maybe he’s doing it because he’s not seeing that line in the sand anymore?”

“Maybe, to him, there is no ‘yours’ or ‘mine.’ Maybe he just sees ‘ours.’ I don’t know why you’re doing this marriage backward, baby girl, but you wouldn’t be doing it if it was only for show.

“It’s real, at least a little bit, for both of you. Communication is going to be the key to making it work and you aren’t so great with talking about things.

“You see a problem, see a solution, then you do. You don’t like to ask for help, especially if you think it’ll be an inconvenience to someone else.”

“He’s not offering help, Mom. He’s just shoving it at me.” I huffed.

“You look like a petulant child right now.” Mom laughed and pushed at my shoulder.

“Face it, Emma. You’re not mad that he wants to help. You’re mad because he thinks you need it, and you assume needing help means you’re somehow less than competent. You’re so much like Mark, it’s a little scary.”

“I don’t want to be ~that~ girl.” I groaned and leaned my elbows on my knees and held my head in my hands. “Tate was my boss. I don’t want to jump into a backward marriage asking for his money.”

“First, you aren’t asking. He’s giving.” She held up a finger. “And what do you mean, ‘was’?”

“Dammit,” I mutter.

“Emerald Rose, what do you mean ‘was’?” she asked sternly.

“There’s a policy at work about superior-subordinate relationships.” I sighed. “Please, don’t tell Lance. He’s already pissed off about this.”

“How do you plan to take care of yourself when you have no job?” She smacked me on the arm.

“I was planning on being Switzerland in this little conflict you have with the man, but I think I’m declaring sides. I haven’t even met him. Have I?”

“No, you haven’t met him.” I groaned. “How can you take his side? Aren’t you supposed to always have my back?”

“I do have your back, baby girl. That’s why I’m telling you he’s right.” She patted my back. “His approach leaves much to be desired, but he’s right. Mostly.

“On an instinctual level, men are providers and protectors. All males of almost every species are. Right now, you need something he can provide.

“He’s got to be completely clueless about women to be relying on instinct like this, but he’s not wrong.”

“I don’t ~want~ his money,” I pointed out.

“What ~do~ you want?” She smiled knowingly.

I stared at Mom as my brain whirled around.

What did I want?

Last week, the answer would have been easy. I wanted my relationship to be happy. I wanted the man I was in it with to love me, and I wanted to love him back. I wanted a long, long life together.

None of that was possible, though. Not with Tate “I Don’t Want More Than One Night” King. I didn’t dare dream of that. So, I said the only thing I could.

“I don’t know.”