Chapter Text
It was late when Sue heard heavy footsteps stomping down the hallway. She closed the book she’d been reading when they stopped in front of her door, but it was Emily’s door across the hall she heard opening instead. She heard Mr. Dickinson’s voice, muffled, but clearly angry, and then a slam.
Trying to be quiet, she sneaked to the door and carefully opened it to see the back of Maggie’s head. Seems like she wasn’t the only one concerned.
“Don’t lie to me! Austin did not write this poem!”
Oh Emily. Why couldn’t you have just used a fake name for the poem? For such a brilliant writer, it was incredibly stupid of her to think that anyone would believe that Austin could have written that poem. Austin, who had today proudly boasted about digging up a dead child as though it were the most romantic thing in the world.
Mr. Dickinson continued to yell, about the election and his pride and Sue waited with a held breath. She’d known that he could be cruel, both from things Emily had told her in the past and from witnessing it. Small amounts, of course. Couldn’t let anyone outside of the Dickinson family think that everything is anything less than perfect, right? But she was frightened for Emily in this moment.
“It’s not my fault you didn’t win the election!” She heard Emily cry, and then the unmistakable sound of a slap a split second later.
Sue jumped and gasped at the same time Maggie did, and she quickly eased the door back shut and backed away from it, biting the inside of her cheek as tears stung her eyes. After what seemed like much longer than it must have been, she heard Emily’s door open again and Mr. Dickinson’s footsteps retreat downstairs. Not long after that, she heard other voices, and assumed he had a visitor.
Still being careful to be quiet, she opened the door to the guest room and saw Emily’s was still open. The other girl stood with her back to it, frighteningly still. Sue glanced to the staircase to make sure no one was coming up and slipped into Emily’s room, shutting the door behind her. She didn’t move at the sound of the door, which further worried Sue.
“Emily?” She said softly.
Like she had just been pulled out of a trance, Emily turned to her, a bewildered look on her face. “Sue?”
“Yeah, it’s me.” Sue noted the red mark she could see even by candlelight on Emily’s face. “What happened?”
Emily’s eyes were filled with tears, they spilled down her cheeks, but she smiled, and even laughed slightly. “I went to the circus.”
Sue had absolutely no clue what she was talking about, but that wasn’t that out of the ordinary. She assumed that Emily had been midway writing some bit of a poem in her head when she’d come in.
“Okay.” Turning her back to Emily, she grabbed the cloth hanging on the wall and dipped it into the bowl of water on her bedside table. “Well you don’t seem like you enjoyed it that much.”
Emily sniffled and tried to wipe her face with her hand, but Sue stepped closer and began doing it for her with the cloth, paying attention to be careful of the spot where she’d been hit.
“You interrupted me before I got to see the acrobats.”
Sue chuckled softly and placed the cloth back in the bowl. “Did you at least get to see a lion?”
“I saw a clown.” A semi-awkward silence fell between them before she continued. “You know, this is the first thing you’ve said to me all week. Except for eat shit.”
Sue looked past Emily, out the window. “I guess I’ve just been in a…” She was going to make something up about wedding stress or traveler’s fatigue, but stopped. “Actually, that’s a lie. I’ve been angry.”
“Angry?”
“At you.”
“At me.”
“Yes, at you.” Sue huffed. “And you’re not making it any better by repeating me like a parrot.”
Emily looked genuinely puzzled as Sue sat on the edge of her bed. “Okay. I’m sorry for whatever I did. I can’t remember what it is, but I did just suffer a blow to the head.”
Sue closed her eyes and sighed. “You wrote me and told me that you were dying.”
“Oh, we’re still on that.”
“Yes, we’re still on that. I don’t remember you apologizing, so I don’t know when you think we resolved the issue, but it’s very much not resolved.”
“You weren’t writing me back!” Emily defended.
“So you think that makes it okay for you to let me think for the 2 days it took me to get back to Amherst that you could have already died by the time it took me to get the letter? Emily, it was cruel and manipulative, and unfair.”
At this, Emily’s expression changed into one of indignation, and Sue wished that she hadn’t chosen tonight to have this fight. She’d come over here because she was concerned, not to start an argument.
“Okay.” Emily’s tone was definitely angry. “I am sorry for writing you and telling you I was dying. Truly. If I was in your shoes, I’d be pissed at me too. It was childish and selfish and I wasn’t thinking about all the loss you’ve already gone through. I’m sorry, Sue.”
Sue nodded, but could tell that was not the end.
“But while we’re on the subject of ‘cruel’, ‘manipulative’, and ‘unfair’, I have some input.” She took a deep breath as Sue watched and waited. “I, personally, think it was pretty unfair for me to have to find out that you and Austin were engaged from him and not you. I don't blame you that much for it, because Mary had just died and I know that you had other things on your mind, but it did hurt. So you know. And I think it was particularly manipulative of you to lay with me in my bed and talk to me about running away together and then go downstairs and flaunt your relationship with my brother in my face.”
“I have never intentionally flaunted anything in front of you, Emily.” Sue interjected, trying to reign her in, because her voice was growing louder and she really didn’t think there needed to be another Dickinson showdown tonight. “I also never even actually agreed to marry Austin, if you want to know the truth. I know it doesn’t make anything better, but like I told you, I have no family, no money, and a lot of debt. I was going to have to marry someone. He was the first person to ask.”
“I would have helped you figure something out.”
“There was nothing to figure out, Emily. The only other alternative was to work, which is what I tried to do in Boston, before you dragged me back here.”
“Right, Boston. Let’s talk about Boston.”
“I don’t want to talk about Boston.” Sue responded firmly. She didn’t ever want to talk about what had happened to her in Boston. To Emily or anyone else.
“I do. Because I still haven’t touched on cruel yet. I think it was extremely cruel of you to…” She stumbled over her words, her cheeks reddening at the memory. “I tell you everything. You knew I had never been with anyone. Never had anyone…touch me, like you did. And that night was...indescribable. Perfect, even. You’ve been my first everything, I was so glad that was you too. But then for you to run away the next night and ignore all of my letters? That was cruel. Sue. I have never loved or been hurt by someone as deeply as you. And now I get to look forward to years of having a front row seat to my brother having everything with you that I want. For the rest of our lives.”
Sue didn’t respond for a long time, wiping away stray tears that fell every time she blinked. Emily alternated between watching her and staring into the lit fireplace across the room.
“I wish things could be different.” Sue finally said, quietly. “You have no idea the guilt and disappointment and fear I carry around all the time. I wish that I could just stay in the boarding house and run around the woods and orchard with you forever, but I can’t. I don’t have an excuse for why I didn’t write you back. I just didn’t know what to say. Maybe a part of me thought it would be easier for you to have a clean break from me instead of manipulating your feelings, as you’ve pointed out. Would it be easier for you if I left? Amherst, I mean. I could marry someone somewhere else. Go back to New York, or maybe Michigan, be with what little family I have left.”
Emily thought this over, sat down on the bed beside Sue, and let out a breath. “No. A life where I have to see you with someone else is better than a life without you.” She turned to look at the other girl sadly. “Always another ‘another’, right?”
Sue looked puzzled, so Emily explained.
“In another time, maybe I could do all of the things I can’t now because I’m a woman. In another place, maybe I wouldn’t always feel so alone. In another life, maybe you’d choose me.”
Sue held her breath once more, only this time to stop herself from crying. Emily got up again and opened the trunk at the end of her bed that Sue knew she kept her poems in. After shuffling through some scraps of paper, she found what she was looking for and held it out for Sue to take.
“Here. I, uh, I wrote this after we…after you showed me what a volcano feels like. I don’t want it anymore.”
Sue reached out hesitantly, her fingertips brushing Emily’s as she took the folded paper from her. She wondered if this would be the last poem she’d ever receive from her. The thought was unbearable.
“I’m really tired.” Emily said, taking a step back from Sue. “I think I’ll go to bed now if that’s okay.”
Sue nodded, moving to exit the room. As her hand touched the doorknob, she turned. “Emily? We’re still going to be friends, aren’t we?”
Emily let out a soft chuckle. “No. We’re gonna be sisters. Anyway, we’ve never been just friends, have we?”
The answer didn’t make her feel better, but she doubted anything would. “I suppose not.” She answered. “Goodnight, Emily.”
“Goodnight, Sue.”
As she shut the door, Sue couldn’t help but feeling like what they were really saying was ‘goodbye’