Emmie is standing in my kitchen, her tears blending with the raindrops on her face. Her hair is plastered to her forehead; her glasses are fogged up. I can’t even see her eyes. I can see only the tears that have slipped past her glasses to slide down her cheeks. Her head is bent. She is broken-hearted. She is shaking so badly that I wonder if she will shimmy all the way into the living room.
Kookie stands staring at Emmie. They are both dripping wet. Water cascades off their drenched clothes to shower the kitchen tile. But Kookie is oblivious. He’s shivering, but he doesn’t even seem to notice. The expression on his face is priceless. Precious. It’s that look of awed vulnerability, when the truth buried deep in the heart of someone is finally unveiled before them, and they see themselves as they truly are – or they see a truth they have long denied. Kookie has just come to a realization. Something that’s been flirting with him, dancing around the edges of his heart and mind for years. But he just wasn’t ready until this moment to accept it.
He’s in love with Emmie.
With the little girl who skinned her knee in front of our house when they were five. Kookie had convinced her to try his roller skates. It had ended badly, but as she lay on the sidewalk, her knee bleeding, she had still stared up at him with stars in her eyes. As far as she was concerned, Kookie had hung the moon and could do no wrong. And he was the one that cleaned her knee and bandaged it for her that day.
He’s in love with the little girl who threw up all over him in the car on their way to the pumpkin patch with their second-grade class. Sitting there with her green puke all over his lap, he had comforted her.
“It’s all right, Emmie. Don’t worry about it. It’ll wash out. Here,” he had pulled a Walmart sack out of the little cubby in his door. “Have a barf bag. Does your tummy still hurt?”
She had stared at him in awe out of her round glasses before shaking her head. “It feels better,” she had whispered.
Right before she had puked all over him again, the Walmart sack barely catching any of the contents of her stomach. Thankfully, I had volunteered that day. So I had cleaned them both up and driven them back home. Kookie and I had spent that day taking care of Emmie. I can still see the tenderness in his expression and touch that day. Even as a seven-year-old. He’d been really worried about her. They had both weathered that storm, and by some miracle, Kookie hadn’t even gotten sick.
Kookie is in love with the girl who fled from the stage while they attended their first practice for the fourth-grade play. Emmie had landed a starring role because she was at the top of the class. But her stage fright prevented her from performing. It was Kookie who finally convinced her that she could stand on a stage and recite four lines.
“Emmie, pretend it’s just you and me. That you’re talking to just me. I’ll be here for your whole performance. Just look into my eyes. You’ll be OK.”
Somehow, Emmie had drawn the necessary courage from those beautiful, obsidian orbs. She had stared deeply into Kookie’s gorgeous eyes, his smile lighting her way. She had spoken her lines perfectly. I still remember the beaming grin on Kookie’s face when she finished. He’d been so proud of her. He’d walked across the stage and taken her hand in his before they’d turned to bow to the audience. Even then, Emmie’s adoration of him had been shining from her eyes. As she’d curtseyed to the audience, her eyes had never left Kookie’s face. He had gotten her through one of the most difficult moments of her life, and she would never forget it.
Kookie is in love with the girl who bested him in the fifth-grade spelling bee. The one who traded lunchbox treats with him for three whole years. The same girl he accidentally hit in the face during a dodgeball tournament in the sixth grade. He’d broken her glasses that day. She’d been sitting there, barefaced, her cracked glasses in her hand, staring at Kookie with wide, myopic eyes when I had come walking through the door to pick them up.
Kookie had been full of remorse, but Emmie had sought to comfort him with the words, “It’s OK, Kookie. I needed a new pair of glasses anyway. And you got me out of the rest of P.E.” Then the sweetest smile had blanketed her face and for the first time I wondered how my son wasn’t already in love with her.
Kookie is in love with the girl who braved a canoe ride with him in the seventh grade. She could have gone with Janna but chose instead to be a good friend to both of my kids. Janna had been invited to canoe with the boy she was crushing on at the time. So Kookie had invited Emmie to be his partner. Poor Emmie. How she didn’t recognize the daredevil in Kookie before that day baffles me.
Kookie was a little too excited and took a turn too sharply as they rounded a bend in the river. Their canoe flipped over, dumping them both out into the cold water. Thankfully, it was a low point, and Kookie could stand up. But Emmie was tiny even then, and Kookie saw her struggling. When the boat had suddenly flipped, she’d gotten a nose full of water. She was fighting to swim and breathe. Kookie hurried to her side and pulled her up against him, so she could concentrate on simply breathing. He’d planted his feet firmly in the riverbed and was fighting the current with all his strength.
Meanwhile, their canoe had floated downstream, leaving them stranded on the riverbank. Kookie had helped her safely to shore. They’d climbed out and sat on the edge until I had found them. I still remember standing behind them as I came upon the scene. Kookie had his arm wrapped tightly about Emmie’s shoulders, hugging her to his side. They’d both been shivering that autumn day too.
Kookie is in love with the girl who accompanied him and Nana to their eighth-grade dance. I know Emmie had been dreaming that Kookie would ask her to dance. She knew how much he loves to dance. But he hadn’t invited any girl to dance that night, and Emmie had returned to our home later that evening with my oldest kids, disappointment clearly written on her face.
Kookie is in love with the girl who discovered her gift for singing when he coaxed her into signing up for the freshman musical with him. I still remember all the evenings they practiced vocalizing together at my house. Kookie gave her wings to fly with. He stood by her at every practice. When he couldn’t be near her, he hid in the wings, sending her a thumbs-up sign with his hand or simply an encouraging smile. The day her throat was sore, he made her peppermint tea and encouraged her to rest her voice. Together, they conquered their ninth-grade musical.
Now once again side by side, they are starring in their junior one. It’s a musical rendition of The Taming of the Shrew, in which Emmie plays the shrew, of course! Just their practices at home have had me in awe of their acting talent and singing ability. And Emmie’s comedic timing is priceless! I can’t wait to see the whole show.
Kookie is in love with the tiny lass who’s nearly three-quarters of a foot shorter than him. With the golden-haired girl with great hazel eyes hidden behind her glasses. With the brilliant, quiet, hilarious young woman who has grown up in my house and been my daughter’s best friend since they were old enough to understand what BFF means. With the girl he’s always treated like another sister.
He loves her with all his heart.
And today her broken heart is breaking his.
