The extra day in the marinade had worked in Emily's favor and the chicken that evening was tender and delicious. She and her mother enjoyed a pleasant meal together. The earlier strain between them was washed away with the dinner dishes.  After she put the last plate away, Emily poured herself some seltzer and went into her bedroom to finish her homework, while her mother sat down to watch some television in the living room.

It's getting late and Evan hasn't called... I guess he forgot... Oh well...

She tried to focus on reading "The Scarlet Letter" but was failing miserably. As she flipped back to look over some of the lines she had previously highlighted, her eyes settled on a section in the fifth chapter that read, "She could no longer borrow from the future to help her through the present grief. To-morrow would bring its own trial with it; so would the next day, and so would the next; each with its own trial..."

Sounds familiar... Maybe that's why I'm struggling to get through this novel... Hester Prynne is different, a character of contradictions... I identify with her alienation a little too closely for comfort... Her strength of character is in part because she hides pieces of herself, both good and bad... And yet while she conceals things, she doesn't run from her problems... Unlike Jane Eyre, who ran away, but was admirable because of her unwavering honesty and forthrightness...

The house phone rang mutedly through her shut door, interrupting her contemplation.

Nobody ever calls the landline except for telemarketers or Pop...

So she ignored the phone and went back to Hawthorne's morbidly depressing romance.

But a few minutes later her mother interrupted her reading with a gentle knock before opening the door to say, "Emily, there's an Evan Murphy from New Jersey on the phone for you."

"Oh. Wow!" she exclaimed.

But Emily remained seated on the bed, frozen in shock, until her mother lifted her eyebrows, held out the receiver and wiggled it in her hand.

Emily took the hint and the phone from her mother's outstretched arm and said, "Thanks Mom" before shutting the door on the curious look she was getting.

"Evan, you could have called my cell," she began.

"Hello to you too, Brooklyn." He laughed.

Her stomach anxiously twisted and it made her wonder if in fact the chicken she ate had spoiled. She took a sip of her seltzer to settle the queasiness.

"I know I could have called your cell. But I actually wanted to introduce myself to your mother. I felt bad about your fight with her, so I apologized for the hickey and promised her it wouldn't happen again," he professed.

"You did what?!" Emily sputtered out as she choked trying to swallow the liquid too quickly.

"I introduced myself to your mother. I told her that I had taken you on a date over the weekend and that when I kissed you goodnight I did in fact mark your neck, accidentally. I apologized and I promised not to do it again," he reiterated. "Are you insane Evan?!" She cackled uncertainly as she twisted her body up in the blankets of her bed.

He placated her, "It was fine. She thanked me for being honest. She asked me some standard questions about myself, like how old I am, about my grades and where I want to go to college. Then she said she would get you. That was it."

Emily ineffectually tried to kick the tangled blankets from her legs as she groaned. "That's never it with my mother. No offense, but I never even told her about going out with you this weekend."

Evan soothed, "Look she knew you didn't give yourself the hickey. So now she knows who did and hopefully knowing a little bit about me is better than imagining I'm some kind of jerk who just sucks on her daughter's neck."

She sighed and flopped herself backwards on her pillow. "Thanks I guess."

"You can thank me this weekend," he teased.