Emma vs. The Tech Guy by Lia Fairchild

cologne I’d bought him for Christmas more than a dozen years ago. It was my fourteenth birthday. Dad was away on “business,” or at least that’s what he told us, and Pop wanted to do something special for me. He took me to the Lobster Claw for all-you-can-eat crab legs, and then we went to the movies. I don’t remember what we saw, just that we got shushed for laughing. It wasn’t even about something from the movie. Pop and I often laughed about jokes or incidents long after they happened. It took but one word or sideways glance to start the cackling.
    When we walked out of the show, I saw some girls from my school. I didn’t want them to see me, to think my dad was an old guy, so I turned my back to them and my Pop. Then I strode over to the concession counter. I pretended to be looking at the Whoppers. My Pop knew we didn’t intend to buy anything after the movie was over, but he joined me, leaned in, and said, “Those are my favorite. Guess we’ll have to get some next time.” When I peered up and our eyes met, my heart sank. I saw it all in his understanding gaze.
    I aged five years in that moment. I never took my Pop for granted after that. I was still a royal pain in the ass sometimes, but I was always proud to call him my Pop, my father.
    By the time we pulled into the parking lot, a text was waiting from Nannette. She said the basket was on the way. I wondered if Jayne was the one bringing it. A while back she’d offered to come with me to keep me company. I never told her I actually enjoyed hanging with the senior citizens. The elderly tended to be pleasant, funny, and low stress. They didn’t expect anything from me, and I didn’t need to impress them. They could be ornery, and they talked incessantly about their various ailments, but I could handle that. I always thought it was because I was raised by someone older, but Howard said it was an obvious sign of relationship phobia. I gravitated to where it was safe. I guess that’s what led me to Howard as well.
    Lou was waiting at the door when we arrived. He was Pop’s right-hand man, and the two fought, teased, and loved each other like brothers. He whistled as we approached.
    “Thanks,” I said, though I knew he wasn’t looking at me.
    “You do look lovely, Emma Jean, but I was talking to this handsome lad.”
    “Pipe down, Tweetie Bird.” Pop walked right past Lou and opened the door. We both knew he wasn’t mad, and we followed him in. The first thing I noticed was the heat. I’d forgotten how stifling it could get in there. I never bothered to ask if they were too cheap to turn up the AC, or if they figured that was how the seniors liked it.
    A small entryway led us to tables lined up in rows displaying the auction items. Each basket had a clipboard next to it that described the contents. Lined spaces below were provided for people to bid on the basket. The double doors in the back were propped open. One of the pastors was grilling dogs and burgers.
    It was a pretty good turnout, and as I scanned the room, I noticed some familiar faces. But none were Mrs. Elwood, Jayne, or anyone holding a basket that appeared to be looking for me. I wondered if it had arrived already and was placed on a table, so I told Pop and Lou I was going to take a look. All I knew was that I spoke to someone named Tracey, whose makeup was so thick and pale I thought she’d escaped from the mortuary viewing room. That was almost two months ago.
    After strolling down two rows, I finally found an empty spot with a placard, but no basket, that read “ New You magazine.” Great advertisement for the company—an empty table. A tap on my shoulder sent me whirling around to find Jayne along with an expertly dressed older gentleman. If I was lucky, he was in charge and about to help me with my missing basket situation.
    “Hey, Emma.” Jayne seemed to be overly chipper for being at a senior event. She reached out and touched my arm. “How’s it going?”
    “Just