Dear Emily Read Online Free PDF Page B

enough. They didn't need to
add exercising to the mix. Something told Amy;
Jack was the type that enjoyed exercising
alone. It was a sort of quiet meditation. She
assumed he felt this way
because it was how she felt.
    Little by little, she'd been
compiling a list of their
similarities. It's not that she meant to string
the ideas together; it happened. Her brain happened in a
way where she thought about Jack... a lot.
    Her phone rang, breaking her out of a
daydream wherein Jack doesn't wear a shirt while he runs. She
checked the caller ID. It was her mother.
    “Hi, Mom.” Amy stood and paced the
length of the apartment before stopping in the kitchen. She played
with the magnets on the refrigerator
while mentally preparing herself for their weekly
call.
    She'd been rehearsing.
    “Hey baby girl, how's the studying
today?”
    “It's great, Mom. I think my brain
grew two sizes this morning. I'm like the Grinch.”
    “Like the what?” her mother asked,
sounding distracted.
    “You know, the Grinch? His heart
grows two sizes, except it's my brain.”
    “Oh, I think you should be focusing
more on school than television shows.”
    “Right,” Amy said, rolling her eyes.
“What I mean to say is things are going well with
school.”
    “Of course, they are. I wouldn't expect
anything less from you.”
    Amy took a deep breath, still fiddling
with the corner of a pizza delivery magnet. “But I still
think it'd be best if I moved back home. Eventually,
I'll have to go away to medical school. I think
now, it would be best for me to be home with you and
Dad. And go to school there.”
    Silence.
    “Mom?”
    “Sweetheart, don't you
think that's a little selfish?”
    “See, Mom, I don't
follow that logic.”
    Amy's head snapped up to the sound of
the front door lock click open as the deadbolt shifted. Jack walked
in—sweaty.
    Shirt on.
    “Your father had to pull a
lot of strings to get you into the school,
Amy.”
    Amy started for her room, but Jack
arched his eyebrows, blocking the exit to the kitchen.
He could probably see her
distress plainly written on her face. She smiled
weakly.
    “Amy?” her mother said.
    “Right,
and maybe that was a
mistake? As in, maybe I shouldn't be here in
the first place.” Amy turned away from Jack and continued the
conversation while staring at the wall. “I have a
lot of... anxiety because I don't
always feel like I have a good handle...” she
took a deep breath. “On all of my classes.”
    “Is that all? It's a matter of getting
some medication to deal with the anxiety.”
    “But what if I want to go home?
What if I don't want to take any medication? Maybe I
wouldn't have this anxiety in the first place if
I were there.”
    “Amy, it's not up for
discussion,” her mother said, ending the subject with a
finality that made Amy's feel like her heart was
twisting.
    Amy paused and took a shaky breath.
She wasn't sure why she thought this talk would work in
the first place. It never did. “You're right, Mom. Give
Dad a kiss for me. I need to get back to studying,” Amy
said. Her voice was void of emotion.
    “It's all about having the right
attitude, baby girl.”
    “Yes, I need to have a good
attitude. Thanks, Mom.” Amy ended the call and stared down at the
phone because it was better than looking up at Jack
Harper.
    He'd stepped away from the
threshold, and she walked past him, across the apartment, and into
the room. She closed the door behind her. 
     
    Sitting on the edge of the bed,
she let herself acknowledge the words swirling in her mind for
months. The words in their singular form moved to construct the
sentence.
    They don't want
me there.
    Her phone chimed with a text from her
mother with a list of four psychiatrists in the area. “Why don't
you get it!” she yelled at her phone.
    She stood, and the impulse began
somewhere in her legs, bubbled in her abdomen, reached her