Writer Spotlight: Ethan Shaw

Emmeline

Emmeline was interrupted from a wonderful dream by the shrill tones of her alarm clock. The little metal hammer ricocheted between the two different-sized bells, producing two highly dissonant ringing sounds and vibrating the entire bedside table. She pounded blindly in the general vicinity of the noise until her hand came down on the little metal clock and finally silenced it. She laid in bed for a few more minutes before getting up.

Emmeline stood up and stretched. She walked over to the closet and put on a robe before walking over to the window. She pulled open the blinds and had to look away for a moment to adjust to the light. She waited for a moment and looked out. It was snowing. The tops of the buildings beneath her 51st story apartment were topped with a thin layer of powdery snow. The roads many stories below were similarly painted with a layer of white. It was however late enough in the morning that thin black lines ran every which way through the snow, the result of a particularly troublesome morning rush hour. The traffic was clearing up nicely by now and what had once been a furious flurry of snow was now just a few occasional snowflakes landing gently on the ground.

Emmeline got herself dressed and sat down at the dining room table across from the kitchenette. She noticed that her calendar was still set to March 1946. She turned the page. Above the word April was a watercolor drawing of a ladybug.

She watched in amusement as her cat, an old and overweight tabby, prepared to leap onto the counter. He tried and failed and Emmeline laughed. She got up and picked the fat cat up and rocked him in her arms like a baby. She set the cat on the counter and headed to the door. She took the red button-down coat from the rack and put it on, buttoning it all the way up. She waved goodbye to her cat who was now on top of the refrigerator and went out the front door into the hallway.

Emmeline awoke to the sound of the telephone ringing in the other room. She got out of bed in such a rush that she failed to notice the cat asleep beside her. She flung the covers off of her in such a way that the cat was thrusted into the air. He landed gently on his feet. He meowed at her and walked into the other room. The phone was still ringing. She hurried into the kitchen and picked up the phone. “Hello?”

“Emmeline, c’est ton père.” Said the man on the phone.

“I recognize your voice, father. Now please let’s speak in English. You know I can hardly keep up in French.” Replied Emmeline.

“Very well, how have you been, my dear?”

“I’ve been well, I like it here.”

“That’s very good. But I do have some unfortunate news.”

“What is it, father?”

“The doctors called yesterday. Your mother’s condition has worsened. They tell me she has become paranoid of all strangers. I visited her a week ago and they told me then that she would refuse to speak to anyone else. I must take a more direct role in her treatment. And… and you must come home.” 

Emmeline was silent for a moment. “I see.” She said. She did not want to leave. She very much liked it in America. Besides, there was not much left of France to return to. “I understand, father.” She said with profound sadness. “I will pack my things.”

“Thank you, Emmeline. Je t'aime bien.”

“I know.” She replied. She hung up the phone. Her cat watched her inquisitively. She picked him up and carried him back to the bedroom. With the cat in her arms she looked out the large window. It was raining.