Emily #freementalillness #literasia

f o u r t e e n

"You're a mess." Emily whispered discreetly.

"I know." Walter whispered back, partially frightened.

Emily shook her head at him. His hair was covered in batter, face frozen in mortification after his cake mixture exploded on Chef. She was red as the maraschino cherries garnishing Emily's black forest cake. 

"You!" She fumed.

"Me?" Walter gulped.

"-are an insolent"

"Please just-"

"idiotic, clumsy-"

"I really didn't-"

"hopeless cause! I've never met anyone so bad at cooking! You're an utter disaster!" Chef breathed heavily, her accent slipping out sharply in anger, rendering the sight rather comical; the crowd a mixture of humorous and shocked expressions; her face caked with watery chunks of egg and butter and flour; her hat crumpled and soggy in one clenched, meaty fist; Walter utterly horrified at her outburst.

"I like to think that I'm merely a slow but sure learner," he ventured quietly, breaking the silence.

"Get out!" She yelled with the fury of a thousand screaming banshees from hell.

"Yes, Chef!" He even saluted as he sprinted out the door, apron on and spatula in hand. 

"Class dismissed," she hissed, ripping off her apron which had been reduced to a sopping cloth.

Everyone obliged quickly, taking advantage of Walter's mishap.

Emily sprinted out towards the parking lot where she saw Walter leaned up against his car, towel in hand. 

"Don't say it." He sighed.

"Say what?" A smile tugged on the corners of her lips.

"The 'you really are a terrible cook' speech, because I got it from Chef."

"I wasn't going to." 

He raised an eyebrow. "Okay."

"So." She watched him clean batter off his face and hair, wanting to laugh at the ridiculous nature of his appearance.

"So?" He grinned slightly.

"Wanna go to the edge?" 

"Do you have to ask?"

The edge was a cliff overlook covered in sparse forest. It was the place they saw each other last. Deciding that it held too much nostalgia, they chose a different path.

It felt like they were kids again, wandering around without a care, feeling the wind like the sensation made them alive, laughing so hard their lungs burned.

Emily and Walter trekked through a new trail, finding a sturdy wooden bridge over a swift river. They sat on the edge, arms over the railing, hugging the wood so as to not fall.

They sat under a cloud of amenable silence that came from familiarity. 

"I'm sad, Walt," Emily said, voice void of emotion. "I don't know why, but I am," she sighed, deflated, almost. "You don't have to say anything, I just wanted to get it out."  

"Oh. Why?"

"It sort of helps me to talk about why I'm sad. But I don't know why I'm sad. So I can't talk about it." 

"Just sad today?" He gave an encouraging smile, hoping it'd just be something  small she was worried about.

"I'm always sad, sometimes just more than others." 

"Why are you always sad?" 

Emily shrugged. 

"I wish I knew." 

"You're so good at hiding it." He said quietly. 

"Anyone who's sad wouldn't yell out to the world, 'hey, I'm really sad, the kind of sad that settles beneath your bones and doesn't leave even when something good happens.'"

Walter was silent so she kept talking.

"I hate it so much. It consumes me. Everything that happens to me either hurts too much or not at all. I'm so numb sometimes that I'd bleed just to feel alive."

He didn't know how to reply, scared that he'd say the wrong thing.

"Sometimes I wonder if I'm even a person or if I'm just a pile of self doubt." She groaned. "That statement was self doubt." Emily covered her face with her hands.

"You need to stop putting yourself down. It's making things worse, not helping." Walter blurted on impulse.

"I've tried, I just can't believe anything positive I tell myself. It feels like a lie."

"You're so talented, Em. You have a great personality. And you're really pretty too." He hesitated. Their friendship wasn't worth risking if he let slip that he was irrevocably in love with her. "Please believe me."

Emily thought she would feel something when he called her pretty. But she didn't know what she was expecting. Maybe happiness? An acknowledgement that he was telling the truth? She didn't. Just more doubt.

"You're lying." She said through gritted teeth.

"I wouldn't lie. Not to you. Never to you." Walter was borderline furious.

"I'm sorry for making you mad." Emily said softly.

"Don't be. But it's just--" he sighed heavily, trying to control his temper. "I'm so upset that you can't see the amazing person you are. That kills me inside."

"Thanks for the kind words. I hope I can accept them someday." Her voice was barely there, but Walter understood.

"I hope you will."