02) return to green rock: chapter one

8/7/2019 02) Return to Green Rock: Chapter One

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Chapter One

The phone was ringing.

Emily turned over in her bed and looked at the clock.

Eight oclock? Who calls at eight in the morning? she said as she turned back over in bed.

Stop ringing , she thought towards the phone, trying to will it to stop. She had been up late the

night before, writing a new chapter of her book. It was hardly Shakespeare, but she thought it was

good. With only a few chapters to go, she thought she had a pretty good idea of where her characters

would end up, which was nowhere near where the outline she made six months ago said they would.

The ringing stopped.

Thank God! she cried, closing her eyes again, and praying for another half hour of sleep.

The phone started ringing again.

Oh, all right! she said grumpily, getting out of bed and crossing the bedroom of her loft

apartment to the phone. The loft was a bit of a stretch on her limited royalty checks from her previous

book, but she felt it was worth it. It was downtown, of course, in a building that looked quite bad from

the outside, but had been renovated on the inside to an almost luxurious state. This little piece of big

city life in a small town made her feel like she had finally escaped the drudge of living in the South,

despite the fact she was still in the deepest part of it.

Hello? she said as she picked up the phone. She couldnt help but have a tinge of irritation in

her voice as she did. She wanted whoever was calling her to know that he had woken her from a

good sleep, despite the few hours of it.

Is this Miss Emily Dearborn? the male voice on the other end said. It sounded very official,

which immediately made Emily wake up a little bit. This sounded too much like a call she had gotten

ten years prior.


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Yes, this is she, she said, the irritation gone from her voice. She had gone from being tired

and grumpy to being fully awake, nerves on edge. Someones died , she thinks.

Is your uncle Henry Dearborn, of Green Rock, Mississippi? the voice asked with what

sounded like sympathy. Emily imagined him sitting at his desk at the precinct, feet up, with a toothpick

in the corner of his mouth. She could almost see the pained look on his not quite handsome face as

he was trying to pull forth the words he was being forced to say. She shook this image out of her

head physically, as she shuddered.

Yes, thats my Uncle Henry. People used to call us Henry and Em, like in The Wizard of Oz,

which was actually pretty twisted considering I was his niece, she said, and realized she was

rambling. All of a sudden she found it hard to breathe.

Your uncle passed away last night, asleep in his bed, the voice said, confirming her worst

fears. First it was her parents, and now it was the man who had been like a father to her.

Uncle Henry had taken her in when her parents were killed in a robbery attempt outside an

ATM. The killer got $200 and a one way ticket to jail, courtesy of the video cameras on the ATM, and

her parents got to orphan their twelve year old. In a comic book or novel, this would have inspired her

to be some vigilante. In real life, however, it just hurt.

I see, Emily said, though she really did not. Uncle Henry had been so careful of his health

since a scare about five years before, and after his last physical just a few months ago, he had called

her. They say Ive got the body of a forty year old , he told her. Too bad they dont know its stuffed

under the bed! he had said, and laughed. At seventy years of age, he had a body of someone almost

half his age. Of course, even forty year olds have heart attacks , she thought.

What do I need to do? she asked the officer. As he gave her all the information she needed

to contact her uncles lawyer, she silently started to cry.


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Thanks for coming along with me, Emily said to her friend. Candace was the one who had

found the loft apartment. They had been roommates in a small two bedroom apartment for months

before Emilys first royalty check cleared. When Emily saw the chance to get out from under someone

elses roof, she took it before she and Candace could drive each other crazy.

The loft apartment was the first place she ever lived on her own. It seemed like, ever since her

parents had died, she was constantly forced to rely on others. First, Uncle Henry, who had really

been too old to have a twelve year old starting to hit puberty running around his house. Then, after

high school, she took the first job she could in the first place that was not Green Rock.

Candace had been a high school friend who took a job as a substitute teacher for teaching

credit in yet another small town in Mississippi called Brookhaven. The first time Emily took the train to

visit her, Candace invited her to stay for as long as she needed. They had both been out of high

school for about two years at this point, and while Candace had immediately gone to college, Uncle

Henrys pension was not enough to send Emily. While her grades were far from abysmal, they were

not enough for a scholarship. The Air Force was willing to send her to college, but Emily didnt think

shed fit in a place that required getting up before the sun was out. She had realized she was a night

owl years ago, and was not going to force herself to fit into any mold that required a lack of sleep.

Unfortunately, that meant jobs were a little harder to come by.

Emily had finally found a job working for a local truck stop (overnight shift, of course), which

provided a meager income, just enough for her half of rent and utilities. This left a shortfall for

groceries, however, and Emily was forced to swallow her pride and apply for food stamps. This

provided enough money for Ramen noodles and a growing coffee addiction. However, with Emily

working nights and Candace working days, there was a lot of free time for Emily to pursue her true

passion: writing.

Ever since eighth grade, when she and the rest of the class were forced to create a poetry

notebook, Emily had been in love with writing. She had only been orphaned for less than a year when

the assignment was given, and as soon as her pencil touched the paper, her emotions came pouring


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out. They were told to create a poem a day for thirty days, but Emily had created thirty poems by the

end of the first week. The pain of loss, abandonment, confusion, and grief poured out of her like

sweat onto the page. Often she would not even be aware of what she wrote until she was done. Her

teacher gave her an A+ and a book on creative writing to help her along.

Emilys first book was a book of poems and short stories no more than one hundred and six

pages long. She posted several pieces of it on an online blog, and an agent happened to find it and

love it. From there it was sent to about two dozen publishers until they hit the literary jackpot and it

was published. Emily received the first copy to be printed, and figured if she was lucky, maybe a

hundred people across the globe might like it. That might have been the case if it had not been

rescued from obscurity by an actress who liked to pretend to be smarter than she was. She happened

to talk about her new favorite book of poetry one night on Leno, and from there sales jumped about a

thousand percent. Once it became semi-popular, friends told friends, and soon she was selling

enough copies to buy an extremely cheap car to replace the bike she had been using and to get the

loft apartment. At least she was finally off food stamps.

Emily realized that Candace had been talking.

Im so sorry. What were you saying? Emily asked as she pulled onto the interstate. She had

about a three and a half hour drive to get to Green Rock, and was not looking forward to it.

I was just saying that Im glad I could make it. I know how close you were to your uncle,

Candace said. He was so proud when your book was published. I heard he bought fifty copies and

gave them to the local library.

It was ten, Emily said, and could feel herself start to tear up. She blinked one tear back, but

another escaped. She had really not wanted to talk about any of this, even with her best friend.

Candace knew her better than that, though, and knew she needed to talk. She had seen too many

times when Emily had held back her emotions until they were too strong to deny. At that point, it was

best to just get out of the way.

You dont want to talk about it, huh? Candace said.


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You got it. Driving plus crying equals seeing Uncle Henry a lot sooner than I had planned,

Emily said, with a bit of a grin. She had a rather dark sense of humor that came out in her writing.

All right, but at the first stop Im taking over driving. I would hate for you to go nuclear behind

the wheel of a car, Candace said, smiling. Emily did not have to be told she was only half joking.

At the first stop for gas, true to her word, Candace grabbed the keys as soon as they pulled in.

Emily gave an exaggerated gasp, and then a pout.

You realize this is my car, dont you? Emily said, grinning.

You realize that Im not going to let you drive in your condition, dont you? Candace returned.

Ive been fine for the last two hours. Ill be fine for the last hour and a half.

Maybe so, maybe no. I wouldnt be your friend if I let you take that chance, would I? Plus,

being a mortal being, Im terrified for my life the way you drive when youre not repressing. Go get

cleaned up. Some of your tears escaped, and your eyes are red enough to be traffic lights. Ill pay for

the gas. You can get the snacks, okay?

Thanks, Candy, Emily said, and went to clean up.

As she stepped into the ladies room, she noticed her rather harried reflection in the mirror. She

knew she would never be considered beautiful by most standards, but she couldnt help but feel a

little pride in her appearance.

When they were not red with tears, her eyes were a deep brown, almost black in the right light.

Some have said this made her look more mysterious, but she just thought they looked nice and

normal.


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She was not short, but not tall, either. At five foot six she was taller than Buffy and shorter than

a supermodel. Her hair was brown, shoulder-length, and had a slight curl to it. She had added some

blonde streaks to it a few weeks before, but most of them had faded. She refused to wear makeup,

but that was more of a time-saving stand than a moral imperative. She simply chose not to spend an

hour and a half a day putting on and taking off makeup. Weighing in at 125 pounds, she was heavier

than she probably needed to be, but was far from being considered fat. She had a pretty, but average

face that seemed to be a bit more mature than she felt at any given moment.

Emily made a mental comparison of herself to Candace. She knew there was no need to, but

did it anyway. Candace was a fairly tall five foot nine, with short auburn hair that had never seen a

curl a day in its life, despite all the women in her family having curly hair. She had prominent features,

with high cheekbones and a slightly pointy chin. She had rather narrow eyes, though, which to almost

be Asian in appearance. Also, she held firm at one hundred fifteen pounds, even during her college

years. She was what most men would consider beautiful, and even most women.

Emily felt a sliver of envy for her friend, but dismissed it. After all, Emily had been more

successful in her career than Candace, who would more than likely be married to her boyfriend within

a year and be a mom in two. She had the feeling that was all Candace really wanted in the long run,

anyway. She was always great with kids, and wanted one of her own one day. Emily had no interest

in children at this point, and found it hard to imagine that changing any time soon.

Emily washed her face in the sink, and splashed her eyes to moisturize them again. She dried

her face off with a paper towel and looked at herself in the mirror again.

Almost as good as new, she said, and smiled. Her reflection had a pained look on its face,

though, so the smile disappeared. She practiced another one, and this smile looked better, though

not by much. She thought she was showing too much teeth. Then, she thought of her Uncle Henry,

and how he looked the first morning after she went to stay with him. He looked a little lost at what to

do, but she could feel his concern for her. This memory brought a true smile to her face, a warm smile


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that made her face glow. She shelved the memory away in her mind again, afraid of letting it come to

the front for too long, for fear of the grief coming with it.

Were coming, Uncle Henry, she said, and walked out the door, feeling a little more

refreshed.

02) return to green rock: chapter one

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