The Things We Bury - Part 1: In Anticipation of the End of the World [Completed]

Chapter 11: Lovely day (Part 1 & 2 of 8)

Act normal.  Just act normal.

Emily kept her eyes forward as the elevator started making its slow ascent.  "So...doing anything for Christmas."

Barbara turned and gave her a slow, withering look.  "Yes, I am.  I plan to babysit a teenage werewolf.  And how about you?"  Her words came out as empty of emotion as ever but still managed to drip with honey-thick sarcasm.

"Right.  Stupid of me.  It's just Christmas makes me think of family and stuff."  Emily muttered her excuse, hoping that its blandness would make it convincing.  She really didn't want to discuss what the holidays actually made her think of.  Not with Barbara anyway.

For Emily, Christmas would always be a season of gray, empty days.  She could think of only three times when the holiday had been a pleasant experience.  The two years after Aaron was born and the one she'd spent with the Burkes.

The briefness of the time she'd lived with that couple was offset by the magnitude of the fantasies she had entertained.  In her funny, teenage dreams, she had imagined the successful couple adopting her and their home becoming hers.

Back then, they seemed old.  Maybe a lot less gray and worn out than most of the foster parents, but too old for their lives to experience many more changes.  Perhaps her coming into their home would be the last big one.

They must have only been in their early thirties.  It didn't seem old at all, now that Emily was in sight of that age. 

The Burkes had both been lawyers and their clapboard house in the trendy, bohemian district of Boston was like something out of a dream.  The Jamaica Plain home had shown off their eclectic hipness.  The hallway was hung with carvings they had brought back from Africa, Indonesia, and Tahiti.  Fierce faces stared down at young Emily as she walked in for the first time.    She was shocked there wasn't a TV in the living room.  Instead, there was a stereo that was all mirrors and glass and looked like it had been taken from a sci-fi movie set.  The CD player hung on the wall and the six disks it held could be seen spinning through the translucent panel.  The dining room had been sleek and modern with benches instead of chairs.  And the centerpiece was a gilt Versace tea set, on display high atop an armoire buffet.

Compared to the place she had been living at in Quincy, it was magical.  It made her forget the cramped, dingy quarters, with holes in the drywall, windows that icy gusts whistled through, and piles of laundry everywhere.  There had been six other kids at that home and only three bedrooms for them all.

At the Burkes', Emily had her own room and never had to share.  Except for when they had houseguest and she had to sleep on the sofa in the den. 

Mary and Ben had treated her like their own daughter.  They had spoiled her that Christmas.  She remembered presents—plural.  She only had a vague memory of the clothes, CDs, and gadgets she had gotten.  Although, she still had the antique-looking crystal neckless in a box under her bed.  But the thing she would never forget was the warm feeling with the decorations all around her and the smell of dinner cooking.  She had felt safe.

But then in the spring, Mary had announced she was pregnant, and then they needed Emily's room for a nursery.  So off she went to the next foster home.  Emily discovered she had only been a trial child.  She had been thirteen. 

Right around the same age as Amy.  What will Christmas mean to her in ten years?  Dried out turkey on a metal tray, sitting in the pass-through slot?

Barbara yanked Emily out of her thoughts, with one of her snide questions.  "Oh, I thought you and Max might have something planned?"

"What?  I have no idea what you're talking about.  Why would Mr. Wiley and I have plans?"