Color Me Pretty

my lips. I close my eyes, take a deep breath, and run my tongue along the seal, pressing it down, shutting it tight. Then, before I can stop myself, I grab all three letters and jog out the front door and to the end of the driveway.
    No traffic passes by as I stand there for what seems like a millennium, holding the letters to my chest and wishing with every beat of my heart for things to go smoothly. Emmett comes out behind me but says nothing, waiting for me to take another step forward. When I do and the letters finally drop from my fingers and fall to the dusty, metal floor of the mailbox, he smiles.
    “Tree house?” he asks, but he doesn't really need to ask at all, does he? When you need an escape, you'll always find one. I nod, but I don't cry, somehow, someway. I close the mailbox and step back. Emmett takes my hand and presses a kiss to my ring, his chestnut hair sticking out every which way, his wife beater slick with sweat. We walk to the car together, hands clasped so tight that it's hard to say where one ends and the other begins. I don't know how we got like this so fast, but I don't care. When something this good comes along, you don't question it.
    When we get to the car door though, I pause and turn my head back to glance at the mailbox. I've got an idea, but I'm not sure that it's a good one. It just is which is okay. I make a decision before I even realize it's up for debate.
    “Keys?” I ask and Emmett tosses them to me without question. When he sees me run back and grab the letter to my family, he doesn't ask, but his eyebrows go up and his lip quirks a bit. I think he knew all along what I was going to do.
    We hop in the car and we drive, towards the tree house but not quite. There's a little pit stop we have to make first. I don't speak, but Emmett understands, and he turns up the stereo so loud that my ears hurt and my heart sings. We listen to I Don't Care by Apocalyptica on repeat which works for me, strangely, since I actually do care. Don't ask. It makes sense to me at the time. I drive fast and I roll through stop signs, and maybe it's dangerous, but I've got a mission to carry out, and I've got to do it before I lose my nerve.
    I nearly throw up when we pull into the circular driveway of my parents' house, slide past the trees and come to a screeching stop in front of the massive living room windows. Inside, I can already see my mother, Big Bob, and Marlena. How convenient. Sweat starts to pour down my face, but I don't pay it any attention. I don't think about anything except delivering this damn thing.
    I get out and leave the car running, letter clutched in my sweaty hand, tennis shoes crunching through the gravel. Emmett doesn't follow me; he knows this isn't the right time.
    The front door flies open; the elk head smiles down at me.
    “Claire?” my mother asks, rising from the table suddenly. Her chair falls to the floor as she gapes at me, sprinting towards her like a mad thing. I don't wait for words, just throw my arms around her neck. She's too shocked to respond, I think, too startled to reciprocate at first, but she gets it quick.
    “What are you doing here?” Marlena asks, sounding confused. “I mean, I'm glad, but … ” When she pauses, I'm forced to pry myself from my mother's arms and spin to face my sister instead. I hug her, too, and then I make my way over to Big Bob. To him, I hand the letter. He looks down at it and then up at me for a long, long moment. “What is going on?” Marlena asks, but neither of us pay her any attention. It's only when I start to turn away that my father reaches out and wraps his arms around me. The hug doesn't last long in theory, but it stays forever in my heart. It's just one of those once in a lifetime hugs, the ones that seem like nothing but mean everything. “Claire?”
    I start to run again, and nobody stops me. Marlena yells after, but that's as far as it goes.
    By the time I get in the car, I'm crying again. It's ridiculous, but I can't help it. Emmett makes it even worse when he uses his thumb to brush away the first tear, his lips the second. When we finally do arrive in the parking lot, I'm all out sobbing.
    Emmett still says nothing, taking my hand and starting towards the tree house. It's me who stops him and forces us to switch places, so that I'm leading and crying at the same time. But I get us there. I don't even need the map that Emmett drew for me. I just know. In my heart, I know.
    We climb the rope ladder