Page 19 of Codename: Dustoff
Finn chimed in, pointing towards the small downtown area we drove through. The downtown area was like any other mining town turned ski and hiking destination—very similar to Haven’s Cove. A sleepy downtown with a pharmacy, a local grocer, a two-screen movie theater, and a thrift shop.
“I think that Emmett is so used to just dealing with his disability, he forgets that not everyone has had the same experience as him.”
Gemini looked out the window, tracking the pair of men as they slipped and slid through the snowy mush on their way inside the store.
“I really appreciate this.” I pointed toward where Finn stood waiting for Emmett to catch up to him on the curb. “I wouldn’t have been able to get through that without serious effort. And then I’d be afraid the whole time we were inside that I’d slip and fall and break something.”
“I completely understand.” Gemini turned toward me. “And this may be overstepping, but Emmett is a really good guy. He would have understood if you’d just told him that you were afraid you’d hurt yourself in the snow.”
Able bodied people didn’t understand. It wasn’t as easy as that. So many follow up questions came along with that. “Is it the parking lot you’re concerned about? I’ll drop you at the door. Oh, you’re worried about puddles inside? Let me find you a wheelchair. Oh, there’s none available just hang out here and I’ll try to find you one at customer service. They don’t have any, how about you try to just walk really slow and I’ll hold your hand.” The scenario didn’t end. And in everyone’s desperation to be helpful and accommodating the trip would end up being frustrating and exhausting.
I opened my mouth to try to explain further but Gemini continued, “I know I don’t understand, and you and I barely know one another. With him, when I say something he doesn’t agree with or the reply is Gemini you don’t understand, I tell him to help me understand. But I get it. With him and me it’s different because we’re friends and business partners. I do want to be cognizant of the trials though, so I hope eventually you’ll entrust me with it.”
Her cell phone chirped indicating a text message.
“Finn wants to know if you want him to grab you some underwear. He said it wasn’t on your list.”
My whole face heated to a temperature I’m certain rivaled the surface of the sun.
“I left it off my list because I didn’t want a complete stranger buying underthings for me. I’ll just go commando with the leggings. It’s fine.”
Gemini giggled, blushing. “Probably TMI but Finn loves when I go commando with leggings. Sometimes I’ll do it on Sundays when we serve brunch at the Tavern—because it’s a short day, like four hours tops. He goes crazy knowing I’m walking around the restaurant with nothing but a thin pair of pants.”
She giggled covering her face with her purse.
“Sorry, sorry! There are hardly ever any women around here. I guess my friend-o-meter got ahead of itself. My sister still thinks I’m about to shave my head and buy a tambourine, so she hasn’t exactly been the best person to talk to about my relationship.”
“I’m sorry, shave your head and buy a tambourine?”
“Oh—yeah. Sorry. Last year when I met Finn, I was just fresh off my divorce. I came here on a vacation and fell in love. I went home for a few months, realized I’d found a piece of myself I’d lost here in Barren Hill and came back to live permanently. Tami—my sister—watches too many true-crime shows on television and worries I moved too fast for a normal human to process romantic feelings and therefore believes I’m in a cult. So welcome. I’ll teach you the secret handshake and tambourine solo tonight around the fire.”
She texted Finn back I’m assuming that I did not in fact need underwear.
“So, Emmett made you breakfast this morning I hear?”
Her voice sounded totally casual, but the question felt different. Weighted. Like having him make me breakfast held some kind of special significance I wasn’t aware of.
“His confidence and ease in the kitchen are really something.”
Gemini nodded, smiling in the direction of the entrance to the store. Finn and Emmett had begun the cautious slip and slide back to the truck. The pair carrying on as they walked, Emmett kicking slush in Finn’s direction and Finn lobbing miniature snowballs collected from the back of the cars towards Emmett.
“Does he have anyone else that lives with him usually? Like if the storm hadn’t struck?”
“No. His pa died a few years ago. His mom died in childbirth, and he’s got no siblings unless you count that man child presently smashing a fistful of snow into his face. Why do you ask?”
The two of them carrying on pulled a giggle from me. Despite only having a single arm the two of them interacted with one another as if there was nothing wrong with Emmett at all. Seeing that freedom, how he somehow had achieved the normalcy I so desperately strove for each day, tinged my insides with the slightest bit of envy.
“Everything he uses, from canned condiments to shortening—they’re all in these gigantic, oversized cans. The kind you’d get at like Costco or something similar. And if it’s just him, I can’t fathom why he’d buy something so large and risk it spoiling before he could finish using it.”
Gemini tracked the two men who continued to make a slow progression toward the car.
“You should ask him sometime about how he became such a good cook.” She twirled the string of her hoodie while continuing to watch the men out of the window. “Sometimes your personality traits are born out of necessity.”
“I don’t understand what you mean,” I told her, shifting in my seat so we could converse face to face.
“Henry said Emmett’s word is adapt, right? Think about living in a poor mining town that isn’t nearly as gentrified as it is now. Where everyone needed to work every day to put food on the table. So there’s no money for specialists or occupational therapists, or any of the things that I, having lived in the suburbs of a big city, would assume someone who suffered a traumatic injury would have access to. Emmett had to learn how to do things all on his own. And since most family use items that you purchase in a standard grocery store are made in glass jars, how would someone with only one arm get a glass jar open?”
My experience with amputation was so different from what she described. Most of the military amps I’d met at the minimum had the same standard of care that I did. Along with people within the V.A. who were tasked with helping us navigate through doctors and therapies. I couldn’t imagine what it was like for Emmett.
“You can buy an electric can opener at a local store. Restaurants, like the one his best friend’s dad owned, had access to economy electric can openers that are built to open those huge economy sized versions of canned foods. If that is what someone gives you to make your life a little easier—you figure out how to work it into your life. And, if you buy one-gallon canned whatever—you adapt. You find new ways to make your leftovers work. Eventually, you become really damn good at what you do.”
“Who’s really damn good at what they do?” Finn popped opened the passenger door to the truck passing bags back to us in the backseat.
“I was telling Amelia about what a good chef Emmett is and that he’s completely self-taught.”
Emmett caught my gaze in his rearview mirror. His ears were bright red and I’m certain that it wasn’t all a result from the snowy chill. Gemini’s story settled my inner tantrum throwing toddler. He’d only been trying to make me feel comfortable, and I’d been a total asshole. I’d been more concerned about my own discomfort and forgotten that a bunch of people I barely knew were doing everything in their power to make sure that I was comfortable.
“Thank you.” I said, “I appreciate you going into the store for me. The snow and ice make it really hard to get around with only one appendage that can feel things like slick patches or gathering water.”
“Of course.” His whisper of a smile and slight blush softened my inner grinch even more.