Encore to an Empty Room by Kevin Emerson Page A

notes. More accurately: mental notes that I should probably start taking notes.
    â€œI’ve heard that the essay is just to make sure you can write,” says Aunt Jeanine.
    I’m not sure that’s true but I know she’s trying to take the pressure off me.
    â€œI keep telling Cat,” Mom says, returning to the table with a dish of green beans, “that the sooner she gets it done, the sooner she can relax and enjoy her vacation.”
    â€œCome on, Mom, where’s the fun in that?” I smile like it’s a joke, but procrastination feels inevitable at this point. I felt inspired after the UCLA trip, but then Caleb and I spentall of Sunday afternoon together and I couldn’t imagine being anywhere else. Now I’m back to feeling paralyzed.
    It’s almost like I need it to be last minute: like I need the fates to be involved, to help take some of the pressure out of my hands. If I wait until the very end, then more hangs in the cosmic balance, and when the decisions arrive, I’ll feel some kind of peace. Like it was out of my control.
    Maybe I’m just kidding myself.
    Luckily, we don’t return to that topic of conversation. Dinner is fine and fun, though after a while I wish Jeanine and I could talk for real. In spite of our pact to work on being more truthful with my dad, we’re still just avoiding topics around him like black holes.
    We exchange presents with Aunt Jeanine after dinner. Our gifts are winks to each other: I got her a book about Tosca , and she gives me a gift certificate to Bloomingdale’s and a business card for her personal shopper there, Franca. “She says she can’t wait to see her Vivien again,” says Aunt Jeanine, “but don’t worry: I gave her explicit instructions not to go overboard.”
    Aunt Jeanine heads home after dessert. I collapse on the couch beside my parents, pleasantly too full. They’re watching It’s a Wonderful Life , so I start noodling around online, but there’s nothing except people’s holiday wishes and pictures of gifts and what they ate for dinner.
    Eventually, the movie sucks me in. Mom and Dad know it so well they’re quoting lines.
    â€œTo Momma Dollar and to Poppa Dollar!” says Dad as George is just putting the last two bills into the safe, hoping they’ll make babies.
    I texted Caleb earlier and finally I hear back from him.
    Caleb: How’s it going?
    Summer: Missing you.
    Caleb: *does math* . . . 667 minutes until you come over!
    Summer: !! xo. Hey turn on NBC4.
    Caleb: . . . Oh, this movie! My mom loves this. Are you really watching it?
    Summer: I got sucked in.
    Caleb: Why are they talking about banking? I thought this was a Christmas movie.
    Summer: Shush.
    It’s more fun watching knowing Caleb is watching, too. He texts again during the honeymoon scene.
    Caleb: Will you cook me chickens on a spit someday?
    Summer: Probably never.
    And later:
    Caleb: So, is this boring?
    Summer: No! It’s tragic.
    Caleb: You mean cuz he tried to kill himself?
    Summer: No, because George is never going to hear his three favorite sounds: anchor chains, plane motors, and train whistles! It’s about making choices that sacrifice your dreams.
    Caleb: Yeah . . . Val wants to watch Elf .
    Summer: Is it on demand somewhere?
    Caleb: We’ve got a DVD. I think I have to bail on the Baileys.
    I’m more than a little jealous of Val getting to hang out with Caleb right now.
    Summer: I guess I’ll understand. Say hi to Arctic Puffin!
    Caleb: :) I like to whisper too.
    Meanwhile, our movie goes on, grinding George down, but then ending in song. Mom is crying by that point, and I feel like I might, but for a different reason. Mom’s tears are of the heartwarming variety. What I don’t understand is why more people don’t think this movie is incredibly depressing. How is it the story of the richest man in town, like Harry says? Isn’t it really the story