Free Accidents of Marriage by Randy Susan Meyers Page A

trash and gray-black tones of the sand.
    “Wait with me?” Emma asked as she climbed up on the wall.
    “No can do.” Caro said this as though Emma’s idea was absurd.
    “How come?” Caro shouldn’t be acting so high and mighty; she should pray her mother didn’t call Caro’s about them sneaking out last night.
    “You know why. The boys are waiting. Should we tell Zach to come see you here?”
    Emma groaned. “Just what I need, my mother driving up and finding Zach. I can hear her now. Where do you live? What do your parents do? How much did you weigh when you were born? ”
    “Sooner or later she has to meet him. You’ve been going out since we started working,” Caro said. “What are you waiting for?”
    Emma wanted to keep Zach to herself a little longer. Not have her mother tell Kath, and Grandma, and Aunt Vanessa, and Olivia, and every neighbor on their street that Emma had a boyfriend. She didn’t want to listen to her mother make a big deal about Zach being a sophomore, while Emma was just starting high school, or hear it become her mother’s drama: Jesus, if Emma has a boyfriend, how old does that make me? She and Kath would talk it to death until they chewed every bit of juice from her and Zach.
    Anyway, Emma wasn’t exactly looking her best. Vomit traces stained her shirt from where Iggy Miller had thrown up, despite how many times she’d scrubbed the spots. “Just tell him I had to go home, okay?”
    When they left, Emma rummaged in her bag until she found a pack of almonds. Her mother threw this stuff at her every morning, making sure she didn’t starve to death, as though they lived in some remote Appalachian village where she’d have to trek fifty miles for food.
    God, her mother was late again. Now she wished she’d let Caro send Zach. At least she’d have something to do besides stare at stupid boys showing off—battling to be the first to knock each other from the retaining wall, then looking to see if Emma was watching. The doggy smell of sand they’d kicked up mixed with the odor of throw-up from her shirt. She brought her arm up to her nose and sniffed. Vomity. She brought her braid around to her face. Dried sweat.
    Where was her mother?
    Salty nut dust coated Emma’s mouth. She jumped off the wall and walked to the fountain in the square. Three boys about Gracie’s age took turns forcing the water pressure and spraying one other.
    “Excuse me,” she said.
    They turned to her with a whaddya want look.
    “Do you mind?” She gestured toward the spigot.
    They moved back. Slowly. She bent over the fountain, taking her time. Gross and warm, but at least the water washed the salt off her tongue.
    “ Emma. ”
    Emma turned, recognizing her brother’s screech. She wiped her mouth with the bottom of her T-shirt, puzzled at not seeing her mother’s car.
    “ Come on, Emma! ”
    She blocked the sun with her hand but still couldn’t see her mother or the car.
    “Over here, darling.” Grandma Anne stepped out of her blue Volvo and waved at her over the car roof. It was her mother’s mother—if it had been Grandma Frances, she’d have thought the world had come to an end.
    Emma hurried over. “What are you doing here, Grandma?”
    “Mommy’s hurt,” Gracie whispered out the window, as though it were a secret.
    Emma opened the passenger door and got into the empty seat. Her grandmother slid back behind the wheel.
    “What happened?” Fear hit Emma in the stomach first. A small cramp had already begun.
    “Put on your seat belt,” her grandmother said. “Mommy was in a car accident. Daddy also. They’re in the hospital.”
    “Daddy only had a bruised chest.” Gracie held a knuckle to her mouth, talking around it. “He’s not in a room.”
    “She means a bruised rib. He hasn’t been admitted.” Grandma took a deep breath. “They’re both going to be fine. Just fine.”
    “How did it happen? How bad is Mom hurt?”
    “It’s all a little confusing,