Marion Ekholm - Just Like Em

She pushed the inhaler toward him again. He turned away. Frustrated by Sammy’s reluctance, Em sat back on her heels, her full skirt billowing around her ankles.

“I think he just swallowed a little water,” Roger said, in a low voice.

His calmness helped quiet her nerves. Maybe she had overreacted. Her son’s coughing had stopped, and his new friends waited for him in the water. She dropped the inhaler back in her bag and sprang to her feet.

“Be careful. I’ll be near the tent if you need me.” Without another look in Roger’s direction, she headed for the cool shade.

“You okay?” Jodie asked when she reached the group of adults. “You look all flushed.”

“It’s this Arizona sun. I haven’t adjusted yet.”

“I’ll get the kids out of the water. It’s time they downed some hot dogs and hamburgers.”

Once Sammy was on dry ground, Em felt she could find a restroom and compose herself. But on her way to the house, one of the single parents, a divorced man she had recently met, intercepted her.

“You embarrassed the boy,” the man said.

Momentarily stunned, Em stuttered a reply. “He...he has asthma.”

“Come on. I saw what happened. He swallows a little water, and you come on like the Red Cross in an earthquake emergency.” He chuckled. When she still remained silent, the man continued. “Boys don’t like to be babied in front of their friends by their mothers.”

“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind.” Em took in a deep, calming breath and forced a smile despite the pain it caused in her cheeks and jaw. “Ben, isn’t it?”

“Right. There’s my son Carlie.” He grinned, pointing to one of the boys in the pool. Em could pick him out by the fiery red hair and zinc ointment on his nose that duplicated his father’s. “Jodie thought maybe we could, you know, have dinner or something.”

“I’ll have to get back to you on that.” Holding herself erect, she pushed past him and went into the house.

Roger watched her walk away after overhearing the conversation. Ben didn’t have a clue. The look she’d given him was enough to turn this heat into a frost, but Ben followed her movement, entranced, as though he still had a chance.

She certainly wasn’t the Em Roger remembered. If he’d roused her ire fifteen years ago she’d have thrown him in the pool. Ben went unscathed, although his callous remark about her son deserved a good punch.

Roger watched the swish of her skirt, an intriguing bounce of colorful flowers over legs that went on forever. She had changed and all for the better. Who would have guessed it? Maybe there was hope for Samantha, after all.

* * *

“OH, I SURE could use a cigarette.” Em pushed back a few strands of hair that had pulled loose from her ponytail and glared at herself in the bathroom mirror. That darn strap was down again. She shoved it into place.

“Men! What makes that jerk think I’d ever go out with him?” She planned to grab Jodie first chance she got and tell her not to provide any dates. She wasn’t looking, and she certainly could do better than Ben!

“What does he know about my son and his problems? Nothing! Has he seen him in a seizure so bad he can’t breathe? Has he had to rush him to a hospital?”

Em emptied her purse onto the sink vanity. She’d given cigarettes up years ago because they created problems for Sammy, but she carried gum or mints for the occasion when the craving became all consuming. This was definitely one of those occasions. No luck. She tossed the contents back into her purse and went outside.

The pool was empty. Everyone had assembled under the tent and strains of “Happy Birthday” floated toward her. The tent looked crowded, with Ben motioning her to join them. The glaring sun made the rest of the yard totally uninviting.

She wanted more time to herself to regain her composure. If not, she might say something she’d later regret. Sammy sat with his friends at the picnic table, so she could afford to take a few more moments for herself.

The whiff of smoke had her spinning in several directions before she honed in on its source. A path led around the house. Em followed her nose to a small patio surrounded by walls of white stucco. Arms of leafy bougainvillea with magenta blossoms clung to the wall.

A young woman Em’s height with a bob of brown curls smoked a cigarette. She wore a baggy man’s white dress shirt that practically hid her shorts. These were former jeans, ragged out to create a fringe. It barely covered a rose tattoo on her thigh.

“Ahem,” Em said, hoping not to startle her. The woman turned around and immediately stubbed out the cigarette against the wall. “Oh, I wish you hadn’t done that. I came here specifically to enjoy the smoke.”

“It’s not good for you, you know.”

Em had to chuckle. She was aware of all the dangers, but she never expected a lecture from another smoker. Especially not one sporting a tattoo.

“I know, and I’ve quit. It’s just every now and then I get this agonizing urge.”

“It’s the nicotine.” The woman flipped the pack and a cigarette came halfway out. “Want one?”

“Thanks.” Em took it and bent over to accept a light. After a swift inhale she straightened, released the smoke and sighed. Magic. Already she could feel the tension drain away. But it wasn’t worth the guilt she’d feel if Sammy found out. He had a sense of smell like a bloodhound and would surely notice the scent of smoke on her clothes and hair. One more puff and then she’d put the cigarette out.

About to toss it, Em paused when a door opened behind them. As Roger stepped onto the brick patio the woman next to her casually dropped the pack of cigarettes to the ground. The moment she saw him, Em’s tension increased, and she took another long drag.

* * *

“HERE YOU ARE, Samantha,” Roger said. He couldn’t tolerate the makeup that made her look so old, but Sophia had said it was the only way she could get the girl to come with her. Why was it getting harder and harder to tow Samantha to family gatherings? “Don’t you want to join the party?”

He noticed Em then, puffing on a cigarette like a coal-burning locomotive. God, she had the worst habits. You’d think she’d be aware of all the health hazards. He bent down, picked up the discarded pack and handed it to her. “You dropped these.” He used all his control not to crush the pack in his fist.

While taking the pack from him, Em glanced at Samantha, and he followed her gaze. The girl shook her head ever so slightly. Had he interrupted something? “Thanks,” Em said, then slipped the pack into her skirt pocket.

She’s probably up to two packs a day by now, he thought, recalling the summer when Em had turned Jodie onto the addiction. Suddenly, a frightening thought struck him, and he turned to his daughter. “She didn’t offer you one, did she?”

“No, Dad. I offered them to her.”

Sarcasm. That’s all he got lately. Before making any remark, he paused. It was sarcasm, wasn’t it? His attention turned to Em, who had started a choking fit.

“You okay?” he asked. He felt as though he should do something, swat her back, as she continued to choke. She moved away, possibly anticipating that he’d do just that.

She nodded and dropped the butt, crushing it beneath a dainty sandal. Everything about her was delicate. One of her straps had slipped down her arm, and he drew his hands into fists to avoid readjusting it for her.

“Smoking’s a hard habit to break,” Samantha said.

Em quickly nodded again. “Yes. I’ve been working at it.” Her voice was hoarse, as though she could barely get enough air to speak. Smoking could do that to a person.

Vivid recollections of the lectures he’d given Samantha about cancer came to mind. He thought of repeating them to Em, but he had no right to lecture her. Besides, he doubted if she’d listen.