Free Dear Emily (Forever Family) by Trudy Stiles

the booth.
    He grabs my wrist and my defensive flinch is automatic. His touch burns me, and I feel it all over. I start to tremble and pull my hand quickly from his grasp. God! Why did he do that? I start to back out of his reach.
    “I’m sorry,” he says. “I didn’t mean…”
    I’m backing away now, and I can’t stop myself.
    “No, I’m sorry,” I say as I start to turn. “Thanks for the water.”
    I’m now running.
    Out of the club.
    Why did I freak out like that? What is wrong with me? He’s not Tony, and he wasn’t trying to hurt me. Right?
    I sprint down the block toward the city bus that’s idling at the corner. I look behind me. No one.
    Shit. Why would I expect he would chase after me? He doesn’t even know me.
    I don’t even know me anymore.
    I get onto the bus, swipe my card, and throw myself into the first seat. I involuntarily touch my scar, drop my head back against the seat, and close my eyes.
    The bus pulls away, and I don’t look back again.
    A total epic fail.
    Pun intended.
    Fuck.

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania
    Present
    Age 29
    I arrive at the restaurant where I’m meeting Tabitha and sit at a table with a lovely view of the city street. I’m early again, and I’ve already ordered my drink, unsweetened iced tea with a lemon twist. My favorite. It reminds me of my Aunt Frankie.
    My Godmother, my angel.
    This was her favorite drink, and she always had a pitcher brewing. I smile. God do I miss her. What would she think about everything that Kyle and I are going through? I remember the last conversation that I had with her.
    I left work early one night and decide to stop in to see my Aunt Francis, ‘Frankie’. She had just made the most difficult decision that she could make. She is stopping chemotherapy. She has leukemia. It had been in remission, but it came back with a vengeance. She can’t take the medicine, doctors, and nausea any longer. She is now placing her fate in God’s hands.
    I arrive at her house around four-thirty PM and find her in her favorite room, the sunroom. She is sitting on her comfy couch with a full glass of iced tea in front of her, untouched. I sit down next to her, and we quietly stare at the news on the television. We sit like this for a while, in comfortable silence.
    After a while, she turns to me and whispers, “Carly, I’m afraid.” A single tear rolls down her cheek.
    I look up at her and say, “Don’t be afraid Aunt Frankie. There is nothing to be afraid of. Your Dad will be waiting for you with open arms.” Really? I don’t believe a word that I’m saying. I’d be terrified if I were in her place.
    I’m terrified of death. Finality. Nothingness.
    Hell, I’m even afraid of being buried, closed in a casket. I know I’ll be dead and won’t know where I am, but the thought of being closed in and buried six feet down seriously disturbs me. I have no rational thoughts about death and only think of it in terms of something macabre.
    I’m afraid of losing everything and everyone that matters to me. Holy shit, I’m afraid for her and for what she is going to miss out on. What she is going to lose. Her family. Her children. Her grandchildren. Her future. This isn’t fair. I take a deep breath as I try to conceal my own sadness and panic.
    She asks how my last in-vitro fertilization treatment was. She already knows that it didn’t work because she speaks with my mother, her sister at least once a day.
    “It didn’t work Aunt Frankie.” I frown as I briefly explain our latest trials and tribulations.
    She smiles softly and says, “Car, you will have a family. I just know it. You and Kyle are meant to have loads of happy, bouncing babies.” She holds my hand. Her grip is loose, and her hand is so cold. She is a shell of herself and has given up on her own fight. But yet, she has such hope for me. I can’t begin to understand where her hope for me comes from and wish desperately that she would turn that hope into something positive for her own