Page 47 of The Most Unusual Haunting of Edgar Lovejoy

“You know,” Jamie said, “I’ve been dreading this wedding.

Not because I’m not happy for Emma. If this is what she wants, great.

But because I knew that the two of you would find some way to make me feel like I was ruining your perfect picture just by existing.

And I accepted that, because it’s what you’ve always done.

But what I won’t accept is you treating my boyfriend like shit.

He’s amazing and sweet, and he went through a lot just to be here.

He really wanted to make a good impression.

But you don’t care about any of his amazing qualities.

Because the only way to make a good impression on you is to be exactly like you, isn’t it? And no fucking thank you!”

“Are you quite through?” Blythe asked coldly. Their father looked on, aghast.

Jamie wasn’t, but now their heart was beating fast, and their ears were ringing with anger.

“You have been free to live your life as you wish,” their mother hissed, as if even alone in a huge empty room, she wouldn’t raise her voice loud enough for her political enemies to overhear.

“But when it comes to a family event, there are ways that things are done. And if your little boyfriend can’t even make it through a dinner without humiliating himself, then it is appropriate for us to ask him not to attend the wedding that everyone has worked so hard to arrange. ”

Jamie saw red. “Humiliate himself?! He—I—we—”

What would happen if they told their parents the true reason Edgar had left the rehearsal dinner? They could imagine what their folks would say. You managed to find someone who’s as much of a freak as you.

“Jamie,” their father appealed. “Your mother’s colleagues will be at the wedding. Understand how it would look.”

They understood perfectly. Really, they always had. But now, finally, they accepted that it wouldn’t change.

“It would look like you care about your kid more than you care about appearances. So I understand that it’ll never happen,” they said, resigned.

Their parents hesitated, as if they had expected protest.

“Here’s the thing,” Jamie continued, taking advantage of their silence. “I care far more about my boyfriend’s feelings than I do about appearances. And I care more about myself than I do about what you think of me.”

As soon as they said it, it became true. Jamie stood taller.

“So I’m not interested in spending time with you guys if I have to compromise who I am to be accepted by you.

I’ll be polite in public, of course. Haven’t I always?

But you guys go ahead and give me a call if you ever decide that you’d like to know me.

Me . Not the kid you hoped you’d have or the adult you hoped that kid would turn out to be. ”

Their parents looked at each other, as if unsure how to proceed in this new dynamic.

“Good night,” they said and walked away before their parents could reply.

Heart pounding, Jamie didn’t slow down, even when they realized they were walking the wrong way; they kept going until they found doors to burst through, and then they burst through them.

“Whoa.” Emma jumped out of the way to avoid a collision. She was smoking a cigarette and drinking a glass of red wine.

Jamie swore. “Sorry. Shouldn’t you be at that spa thing?”

Emma rolled her eyes. “I can’t be around people for one more second tonight.” Her speech was softly slurred. “Is everyone gone?”

“Mom and Dad were still in the room.”

“I’m avoiding them,” she said conspiratorially.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?” Jamie asked, amused.

“Because they’re driving me fucking crazy, why else?”

“Cheers to that,” Jamie said.

Emma passed them the wineglass and sat on a marble bench. Jamie followed.

“Was your boyfriend okay?” Emma asked.

“Yeah.” Jamie sighed. “Listen, I’m sorry. For disappearing earlier. He needed me. Good cake, by the way.”

“Dad picked it.”

“The frosting was shit.”

Jamie passed the wine back and took a joint out of a case in their pocket. They’d rolled it with rose petals in a silver paper and dipped the end in keef. They lit it and offered it to Emma.

“I haven’t smoked weed in so long,” she said on the exhale. “Dave says it makes me paranoid.”

“Paranoid about things he might be doing that you don’t like?” Jamie asked.

“Why do you always have to criticize him?” Emma said, standing up. She took another hit. She looked like she wanted to flounce away but offered the joint to Jamie instead. “You criticize everything.”

“A lot of things are shit,” Jamie said. “But I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. I’m sorry you overheard me. Earlier, with Mom? I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

They handed the joint back to Emma. The temperature seemed to drop five degrees from one breeze to the next. Autumn was truly in the air.

Emma inhaled appreciatively too, and Jamie remembered that once, they had shared a love of this time of year. She plopped back down on the bench next to Jamie.

“You didn’t hurt me. Of course I knew you didn’t care about this wedding. I have known you, like, most of my life. I…I wish we were close, but we’re not. It is what it is.”

They passed the joint back and forth, and then Jamie crushed it under their boot heel, a tiny sparkle of silver like a fallen star.

“It’s not that easy for me either, you know,” Emma said after a long silence. “With Mom.”

Jamie straightened back up. “You never said. You always acted like you wanted to be exactly like her. Follow in her footsteps. Have her same haircut.” They elbowed her in the ribs.

Emma whirled around. “I do not have her haircut!” She shrieked, patting her hair.

Jamie laughed. “Emma, come on. It’s identical.”

“That’s not even funny, you little shit,” Emma said, scrambling to grab her phone from her bag at the base of the bench. “She has a frozen old lady wig, and I have a French bob.”

But she was stoned, and her balance was off, so she just succeeded in pushing it farther away and gave up.

Jamie bit their lip but couldn’t keep from laughing.

“Yeah, well. I don’t want to be her. It’s easier to go along with her until she burns herself out. I save my energy for battles I care about.”

“Like what?” Jamie asked. They hadn’t realized Emma had any battles with their parents.

“Can you keep a secret?”

“From Mom and Dad? Of course.”

Emma looked around cautiously, as if Blythe or Hank might be lurking behind a topiary or urn.

“We’re going to move next year. After Dave’s contract is up.” She rolled her eyes fondly. “Dave wants to open a winery. And I don’t really know what I want, but I’m going to figure it out on my own.”

Jamie’s mouth fell open. “You’re not joining the political legacy?”

“Nope.”

“And you’re gonna be a…vintner? Is that the word?”

Emma raised an eyebrow. “Guess so. Until I figure out what else I want to do.”

Jamie’s mind was reeling. “Shit, Em. I really know nothing about you either, do I?”

Emma looked like she was going to make a joke and laugh it off, but sadness flickered in her eyes. “Probably not,” she said.

“Dave must be really loaded, huh?” they observed.

“Yeah. He’s gonna tell his parents about the move after the wedding, but I don’t think I’m gonna tell Mom and Dad until right before we go. It’s just easier.”

“Easier in some ways, harder in others,” Jamie said.

“Probably. But I don’t have your knack for confrontation.”

Jamie was surprised. “I don’t have a knack for it.”

“Okay.”

“No seriously,” Jamie said. “I don’t like fighting with anyone. But if I don’t stand up for myself, who the fuck else will?”

They’d meant it rhetorically, but Emma drooped as if she’d taken it personally.

They sat in silence for a while, then Jamie slung an arm over her shoulder.

“Just because Mom and Dad are…the way they are, it doesn’t mean we have to be, you know. We could try and be…” They searched for the right word and found nothing.

“Okay,” Emma said. “You’re right. Yeah. We could just be. ”

“Speaking of having or not having a knack for confrontation,” Jamie said. “I kinda told our parents to fuck themselves just now.”

Emma’s eyes widened. “When I wasn’t there to hear it?” she demanded. And then, “I fucking told you.”

“They were horrible about Edgar. It’s not acceptable, and I won’t have it,” Jamie said simply. “Which is what I told them. Among other things.”

“Damn.” She sounded…impressed?

Jamie didn’t know if it was the weed that made them ask the question or the fact that they had finally told their parents what they really thought of them, but suddenly it felt possible.

“Emma? Why didn’t you ever take my side? With Mom and Dad?”

It was something Jamie had never planned to ask her, though they’d wondered it a thousand times. But nothing about this conversation was going the way Jamie expected.

Emma stood up and went to the railing of the balcony. In her dress, with her hair dancing in the breeze, she looked like an art nouveau princess.

“Because I’m a bad sister,” she said.

For a moment, Jamie thought she was being sarcastic and braced for the kind of self-righteous defense of their parents they’d received in the past. But Emma just looked sad.

“Because if I used up Mom and Dad’s goodwill by picking fights over you, then they wouldn’t’ve had any left for when I had to pick my own fights with them. I’m sorry.”

Jamie swallowed hard, shocked. As they processed what Emma said, they realized that they hadn’t expected a real explanation. Clearly, Emma had thought about this though.

“Thanks for telling me the truth,” Jamie said, voice only a little thick.

“You deserve it,” Emma said. Then, “Do you have any more weed?”

She seemed appropriately ashamed, so Jamie decided to let it go for the moment and handed her another joint instead. They passed it back and forth, smoking in silence for a few minutes.

“This is beautiful,” Emma said, holding up the joint. The silver paper sparkled in the moonlight. “Everything you do is beautiful.”

“You really stoned there, Em?” Jamie asked, amused.

Emma nodded but continued. “Really though. Your clothes, your hair, your life. It’s all…

” She looked at Jamie searchingly. “You make everything specifically the way you want it, and you don’t compromise just ’cause it’s easier.

It always annoyed the shit outta me ’cause it was like nothing was good enough for you the way it is. ”

She took a deep drag and exhaled a plume of white.

“But it’s ’cause things aren’t good enough the way they are, are they?” she said.

Hope, as fresh and green as a new leaf, bloomed in Jamie’s heart.

“No,” they said, leaning in. “They really aren’t.”

Emma turned to face Jamie on the bench and grabbed their hand. “You know what?” she said. “You shouldn’t come on Saturday.”

Jamie stared at her. They couldn’t be hearing this right.

“I’m serious,” Emma insisted. “Mom and Dad will be awful to you and Edgar. And honestly, I wouldn’t want him to even meet Dave’s other friends.”

She made a mortified face, and Jamie began to hope that she might be serious.

“What about Mom and Dad?”

Their parents would be furious, and the last thing Jamie wanted was for their parents to ruin Emma’s wedding because they were so angry Jamie wasn’t there.

Emma blew smoke heavenward and handed the joint to Jamie.

“I’ll talk to them. Honestly,” she said sheepishly, “I owe you one.”

“You owe me so many,” Jamie said. But they were feeling a strange sense of jubilance. Not just about Emma but for her.

“You’re right,” she said. “I do. So. Take Edgar out on a date in your beautiful new suit instead, and don’t worry about it.”

Things felt vertiginous with Emma, and this was all moving quickly. Jamie’s instinct was to dismiss the offer automatically. Their parents would be furious. And what if Emma looked back on it later and felt it was a mistake?

“Are you seriously telling me not to come to your wedding?” Jamie asked.

“What do you want, a formal disinvitation?” Emma joked.

“Yeah, actually, is there an e-card company that handles disinviting people to your wedding while stoned on a balcony?”

“Probably,” Emma said.

Jamie’s heart was beginning to flip with excitement, like it was jumping up and down for joy in their chest. They wouldn’t have to white-knuckle it through hours and hours of being referred to as Emma’s sister.

They wouldn’t have to fake smile politely as extended family said, “A haunter ?” and whatever followed every time they were asked what they did for a living.

They wouldn’t need to take pictures with their mother in her politician pose that she’d sort through later to use on her website.

And Edgar—kind, loving, beautiful Edgar—wouldn’t be subjected to any of it.

“If you’re serious, I would absolutely fucking love to not go to your wedding,” Jamie said.

“I’m very serious,” Emma confirmed.

Jamie felt light enough to drift up into the sky and float among the stars.

“I just have one more question,” Jamie said.

“Oh god,” Emma said. “Okay, let’s just get all the ways I’m a shit sister over with at once.”

“Are you scared to lose your virginity on your wedding night?” they joked.

Emma ducked her head. “Okay, listen, you can’t tell anyone . But I am kind of scared.” She turned wide, terrified eyes to Jamie.

Jamie’s mind went blank with guilt, and they stammered. They’d never thought… They’d just assumed…

Now it was Emma’s turn to elbow Jamie in the ribs. “Kidding.”

Jamie snorted with laughter and relaxed back on the bench.

“So anyway, your boyfriend’s really hot,” Emma said.

“That he is,” Jamie agreed enthusiastically. “That he is.”