Part 6: I'm just visiting! No more!

Once Timothy left, I went inside the house, and prepared for the doctor’s return. Since her previous visit, I hadn’t wanted her to come back; unfortunately it was one of the rules of the Rowley household. I must remain in therapy to remain in this house.

 

When she arrived, I greeted her at the front door, and escorted her to the dining room, where we always had our meetings and tea. Today however, she asked for no tea, which I didn’t complain when she asked that.

“How are you doing?” She asked, starting off this long boring meeting as usual. I answered that I was well, as she went on with the same old questions, making notes with her black pen.

 

“And had Lily... Accepted her death?” She worded carefully, watching me closely as I tried to conjure up another doctor appropriate answer, or at least something this American could understand. I had learned how to speak like an American, but sometimes I slipped back into British English.

“No,” I said, knowing how much fun I enjoyed insulting her profession. I think that’s the only reason the doctor was forced to come: because I was making up crap about how Lily hadn’t accepted she was dead when really, it was just a way for me to speak out for the dead.

 

I knew Lily Rowley too well, I even knew her better than her parents did. When I first arrived here after the mental hospital and adoption, I was only 15 or 16 and Lily was just 11. From what I saw, the Rowley’s only mistreated me; probably it was because I wasn’t “one of their own.” Which didn’t make me jealous of Lily at all; in fact, I would have had it me rather than her. Lily would tell me a whole range of things that had happened to her that she just couldn’t let go, and would haunt her in her dreams.

 

I could recall the night she told me those things, she woke up screaming, terrified that someone was out to get her. Back then, I was sleeping in the same room as Lily, being treated only slightly less than her.

 

“Emily?” I heard the doctor say my name, snapping me back to reality, and away from the fading memories.

 

“Huh?” I said, rubbing my head and looking up from my hands. I didn’t know I had actually spaced out; that almost never happened to me.

 

“I think we’re done for the day,” she began to collect her papers, tucking her glasses safely away in her pocket, and rising to go.

 

“Okay,” I said, my mind still fogged with a collection of memories and useless information. I heard the front door slam shut, and the doctor’s truck start and speed away, leaving me alone once more. This time, I knew the Rowley’s would be home late, I knew I could use the shotgun if I did dream so.

 

Could I? I asked myself, getting up and walking to face the grandfather clock, the lock still not on it. I rubbed my hand against the tinted glass, and ran my hand over the small designs that were inscribed in the glass.

 

6 feet away until I could be 6 feet under.

 

I heard an unfamiliar car door slam shut, followed by a knocking at the door. I turned away from the grandfather clock, and made my way to the door, checking through the eye hole as to see who it was.

 

It was a couple, the man looks to be in his 40’s while the woman could’ve passed for 30’s. Both had brown hair and green eyes, bright smiles on their faces. I opened the door and asked who they were, and if I could assist them with something.

 

“I’m Jenna, and this is Doug,” the woman introduced the two, both still smiling, “and we were wondering if your parents were home?”

 

“They should be back within the next few hours,” I said smiling, trying to hide the disappointment in my voice, “if you come back then, I’m sure they’ll be home.”

 

“Thanks,” and they turned around and walked to their car. I stood in the doorway, and hoped, prayed, that they would turn around and ask me to come with them.

 

“Please don’t leave me here,” I muttered under my breath as they waved and drove away. I should have said something like that to them, or implied that I was sore because they liked to practice their boxing skills on me, but again my words were jammed in my throat, choking the part of me that was honest. I could have lied and said a lot to them; they’ll be back in a few minutes, or they won’t be back for a few days, anything to get their attention.

 

I closed the door behind me, and headed back out to the crap shack, too tired to wait up for a beating. If Mr Rowley was that desperate for a brawl, he should start going to bars, not to his adopted kids. I round the corner and watched as the lights from the greenhouse shined brightly in the darkening sky, paralyzing me with its sheer beauty.

 

After a few moments of examining every tulip and tomato plant, I continued on my way to the shack. I heard a rustling in the bushed, and heard a thump, followed by Timothy jogging towards me.

 

“Damn low hanging branches,” he cursed, smiling and holding a big blanket under his arm, reaching me and wrapping his free hand around my shoulders, gently squeezing.

 

“Good timing,” I said, “I’m freezing!”

 

“Well I figured you’d be tired after the adventure at the beach,” he trailed off smiling, as I grabbed his hand that fell down. He was warm, slightly warmer than normal anyways, that or I was just unusually cold.

 

“You’re warm...” I examined his hand, which was only slightly bigger than mine, but was creased with many lines and scars.

 

“You sure you don’t want me instead of the blanket?” He asked, sounding sincear. I would have smacked him if he was implying sex, but I could tell he wasn’t.

 

“Maybe, dunno,” I said, looking over to see him looking surprised at my answer. I giggled and he blushed, as we made our way into the crap shack. I placed the blanket over the bed, and sat on top of it, Timothy following behind me.

 

“I wasn’t being, y’know,” he gestured with his hands, “rude, or anything when I said that. I just mean, well, being warm and all...”

 

I laughed, which interrupted his sentence, and made him blush even harder, his cheeks turning a darker red, almost purple.

 

“You can stay if you want, I’m always cold.” I said smiling, “I knew you weren’t being rude.” He smiled and wrapped his arm around my shoulders, and gave a slight laugh, sounding as if my answer had released some heavy burden.

 

“Ah, this sounds like the start of an awesome friendship, my little English muffin.” That, I smacked him for, which only made him laugh louder and harder.