La Vie en Rose {Life in Pink} (45 page)

“All right, settle down, Zuckerberg,” Rarity interceded. “That money’s going to your head so fast your eyes are turning green.”

“Maybe you should give it back,” Emma mumbled, bringing him back down to earth.

Rarity nearly choked. “Give it back? Are you nuts?”

His brow creased, never expecting her to be unhappy about this. “Why?”

Emma shrugged. “It just seems like an awful lot of money. That’s a big responsibility. Money changes people.”

“But it belongs to him,” Rarity pointed out. “Our parents shouldn’t have held it this long to begin with. I’ll probably never see my half.”

It was insane that his portion was only half. He took Emma’s hand and chafed her fingers. “Cakes, I don’t want to change who we are. I mean, yes, we’ll buy a home and get you a car and maybe help out your parents if they accept our offer, but... I like how we live. I don’t want to turn into some guy behind a tickertape machine, smoking cigars, and answering ten phones on his desk—”

“You’re not a cartoon from the 1950’s,” Rarity muttered, rolling her eyes.

“I just want to make a difference.” He sat back and took a deep breath. “We almost lost you. There needs to be more than races down the streets of Washington, DC.”

Everyone’s mood seemed to sober. “I know this is a lot of money, and I get that we aren’t those people, but when do our people get this sort of opportunity? This isn’t just about being green or wearing pink. It’s about every cancer out there that could’ve possibly been avoided if people were better informed about what’s being permitted into their homes, bodies and their environment.”

“It’s a good thing,” Emma said, her smile sad. “But I don’t want the rest of my life to revolve around cancer.”

He squeezed her hand. “Maybe if there was less toxins in our day to day life, it wouldn’t have to—for you or for anyone.”

Rarity lowered herself into a chair. “He’s right. What we’re planning would take a great deal of the worry away.”

Holding her hands in his, he met her gaze. “I swear to you, Emma, the only reason I want this money, is because all the pink in the world will never have the power of green. The ribbons aren’t cutting it and I’m tired of accepting that this is the best we can do. I love you. You’re my world, not a statistic. For months I couldn’t protect you, but this...” He waved the letter. “This money could defend countless people from the shit out there making everyone sick.”

She stared at him, her lips tight and trembling. “Okay, Riley.” She took a shaky breath and nodded. “You take that money and make a difference, but don’t let it change the man you are, because honestly, the world needs more people like you than they need money.”

Drawing in a deep breath, he exhaled. “Thank you for believing in me.”

––––––––

I
t was early. The city seemed quieter for some reason, peaceful. Emma stared at the blushing metal of the building across the way as the sun climbed tall and proud into the radiant sky.
So pretty.

Riley slept beside her, wrapped like a baby marsupial around her legs and she grinned. Life. Everything around her was alive.

Her neck stretched as the heat of the day trespassed through the screen, warm and invigorating. She had things to do, but this seemed more important, so she rested a while longer and took the time to appreciate the splendor of being alive.

Her mind randomly skipped from thought to thought. Riley. Her parents. Rarity. Lexi. Marla. Anna. Her wedding. She wondered if somewhere in the world at that very same moment someone else was thinking of all those things, or perhaps just one. There had to be someone appreciating this beautiful dawn. Then she randomly thought about snowflakes. In the June heat it was tricky to imagine a sky full of white.

Her hand pressed gently to her chest. Nothing. The subtle trace of her fingertips over the remaining muscle faintly tingled, but where her breasts once were... it was numb. It wasn’t so shocking anymore.

Her mind sketched over her journey. It was the longest and shortest six months of her life. Everything changed and she was now unrecognizable compared to the person she once was. Oddly, the most drastic changes happened inside—not to her cells or her blood, but to her soul. How strange to prefer the person she’d become over the person she once was. What a misplaced but gratifying end to suffering.

Her life was like an avalanche, one tiny speck, smaller than a snowflake, and everything she’d depended on had come tumbling down. It almost killed her, but here she was, lazing in bed on a Sunday morning, staring at the sunshine.

She sighed.
I’m alive.

A door slammed and she jumped. Riley grumbled in his sleep as a stampede sounded from the kitchen and Marla barked like a maniac.

“Carrots!”
Rarity’s voice echoed through the hall. “We have carrots!” The door to her bedroom flew open and Rarity beamed like the proudest Peter Pan. “We. Have. Carrots!”

Emma laughed. “That’s wonderful!”

“Yeah, it is! I’m like a witch. I made food from dirt, eggshells, and seeds.” She did a very uncoordinated victory dance while grunting and wiggling her butt.

“Get out,” Riley groaned.

Rarity stilled. “I’m going to go see what else is sprouting.” With that, she raced out of the loft and back to the roof. Emma giggled.

“We need to move,” Riley groaned into his pillow.

“Stop. You love living here.”

She wasn’t ready to give up their loft. Eventually, they’d do the grown up thing and settle down—possibly in a house—but right now she liked their living situation. Even if it was chaotic at times.

He flopped to his back. “I’m awake now.”

It was her turn to curl into him. She hummed and ran her palm gently over his warm skin. “Oh no...whatever will we do?”

He twisted and pinned her, his hands pressing into her wrists as his arousal prodded her belly. Smirking, his eyes darkened with desire. “Good morning, cakes.”

“Good morning, my love.”

His mouth dropped to her shoulder, nibbling and kissing a trail to her throat. “This is my favorite spot,” he mumbled, voice muffled against her skin.

They rolled around under the covers, giggling and teasing until they were eventually panting and writhing. Despite all her personal hang-ups, she’d found her way back to a place of acceptance where closeness was concerned.

As their bodies stretched together, her nails dug into his shoulders. Breathing through those climactic moments was once again like walking through the rain, soft, peaceful, invigorating, like being reborn.

Once they climbed out of bed and showered, they dedicated the day to online browsing. Rarity was compiling a list of suppliers while Riley was perusing real estate. Emma didn’t have the focus they had so she spent most of her morning perusing shoes, not that she’d be buying any, but it was fun to look.

Her obsession with footwear developed during the early stages of her recovery. Shoes were sexy and her feet sometimes seemed her most feminine asset, despite her hobbit toes, which she still argued were shaped perfectly normal.

Spotting a pop up ad, she gave up her shoe search—like she’d ever wear heels that high anyway—and clicked on the banner sporting a pink ribbon. It was a race, right there in New York. She scanned the details and a fire built in her belly. How cool would it be to be a part of that?

“I want to do this,” Emma said, turning her laptop so Rarity and Riley could see.

Riley looked up from his iPad and squinted at the picture on the screen of her laptop. “A walk?”

“That’s a lot of pink,” Rarity commented.

“It’s a 5K for breast cancer and I want to do it. I think I can.”

Riley reached forward and scrolled down the page. “What do the proceeds go toward? What sort of research and what percentage—”

“Stop.” She pulled the laptop out of his reach and took a breath. “I’m telling you, I
want
to do this. I don’t care if one percent goes to researching what shade of pink looks best on a miter saw. I’m doing it.”

“There are other races—”

She turned her laptop away from them and navigated her way to the sign up page. She understood some charities donated more than others, but every penny earned was money that wasn’t there yesterday.

“Emma, no one’s telling you not to walk—”

“Yes, you are, Riley.” She kept her eyes on the computer, already typing in her information. “You think if it isn’t distributing funds exactly where you believe they should go then it’s pointless. It’s not. Every cent, even the pennies, counts.”

“I think we’re just frustrated with the exploitation of pink and the lack of advancement,” Rarity defended.

Emma shut her laptop and scowled at them. “I’m pink.”

She wasn’t sure when her opinion of the color changed or why, but she now took offense to outsiders putting down the pink as much as she took offense to corporations abusing the color. What she once criticized she now understood. Despite all the exploitation, there was something intangible behind the pink, a sense of connectedness, and she wanted to embrace that camaraderie.

“You don’t get it,” she explained. “A few months ago I was incapable of walking to the bathroom without help. Today I’m considering miles.” Her eyes moistened and she was taken aback by the passionate satisfaction surging through her battered but strong body.

She smiled. “I want to do this walk because I can. I want to do it for all the people that can’t and I will gladly pay my dues and wear my colors and support the cause because support doesn’t just come in dollars and cents. It comes from here.” Her hand rested on her breast. “I’m proud of the distance I’ve come and all the care my doctors gave me, and I’m thankful for all of you that got me through hell and back when all I wanted to do was stop fighting. I want to celebrate the empowering truth of survival with other survivors and they’re going to be
at that race
.”

Her head lowered. “I know the system has flaws. I know the treatment isn’t perfect. But something’s working, because I’m here. You can’t improve anything from the outside looking in. So, like I said, I’m going to do
this
race.”

No one said anything as her words resonated in the silent room. She wasn’t poetic or any sort of brave activist. She was just a girl, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t contribute in some way.

“Sign me up,” Riley quietly said.

“Me too.” Rarity nodded.

Emma smiled. Sometimes it wasn’t about politics or percentages. Sometimes it was just about people. “Thanks, guys.”

****

T
he morning of the race was sweltering. The three of them rummaged around the kitchen for granola and coffee foraging like sleepy little squirrels. By the time they made it out the door they were only placidly awake.

Emma’s excitement churned at the first pink cone they passed. Streets were marked off and tents were erected. “It’s so cool how they close down roads for this.”

The closer they walked to the registration area the higher her energy climbed. A vibe pulsed with excitement, making her jittery and alert. Ditching the last of her coffee, she scanned the area, wanting to take in the entire experience.

Clusters and pairings of people bedecked in pink clogged the walkways as a ruckus of voices filled the air and microphones squeaked. The first strand of music came from an enormous speaker in the distance, as the recognizably upbeat tune by the band Rusted Root played.

Infused with vitality, she grinned at her friends and bounced to the familiar tune. Rarity rolled her eyes, but couldn’t hide her smirk. The flutes sang as percussions tapped and strangers bounced to the music of
Send Me On My Way.

Riley sauntered beside her, bopping his head to the music. He reached for her hand and she stretched for Rarity’s as the three of them, and Marla, found their place in line.

More upbeat music continued to play as the crowd thickened. It was amazing how many people had gathered all for one purpose. Her throat tightened as she had the urge to hug and thank every single person there. There were hundreds, maybe thousands. They just kept coming.

“Emma?”

She turned at the familiar voice and her chest filled with warmth. “Anna?”

“How are you?” her friend asked, taking her into an affectionate hug.

“I’m...great. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

She waved off her surprise with a typical Anna grin. “This is my shtick. These are my peeps. See that handsome fellow over there?”

Emma craned her neck, spotting a tattooed hottie waiting in line behind Riley. “Yeah.”

Anna winked. “He’s mine.”

Thrilled for her friend she beamed. “You’re dating!”

“Yes, ma’am. Turns out I’m good at it too. We’re coming up on our two month anniversary.”

“That’s fabulous! We should go out, the four of us.”

Anna tapped her hand. “I see you’ve upgraded.”

Glancing at her engagement ring, another rush of warmth hit her chest. “Yes.” She smiled. “The wedding’s in September. I’d love for you to be there—and your boyfriend.”

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world. Riley’s one of the great ones.”

She glanced at him as he paid for their passes and her heart did a little jig. “He is.”

“Well, I have to get back to my people before I get yelled at for taking off. I have a habit of floating wherever the wind blows. I’ll see you at the finish?”

“Definitely.” She hugged her friend tight.

“Tell Riley I said hi and nice work on the ring. You’re going to be a stunning bride.”

“I will.”

Rarity returned from her search for a porta-potty. “Who was that?”

“That’s my Anna. I love her.”

“The one from the oncologist’s office?”

Emma nodded. “The one and only.”

Riley approached, handing them each a pink shirt. “We’re in. Was that Anna?”

“Yeah, I invited her to the wedding.”

“Awesome. I miss seeing her.” He handed his sister her pink shirt.

Rarity grimaced at the fuchsia T and took a deep breath. “The things I do for you...”

Riley stuffed his arms into the shirt and shoved it over his head. “Oh, shut up and be a girl for once. I don’t know about you, but I look fabulous in pink.”