featherlight ✅

em

"And now all your love is wasted
And then who the hell was I?"

When I think back over the last few weeks, it seems to me that I've done absolutely nothing good to anyone. Okay, I feed my dog; okay, I'm not rude to my parents or anything, but I've messed up Kat's life, and Em's. Which makes me a kind of suckish person. 

I look out of the café window as I wait for Em to come, chin nestled in my palm, and wonder whether I'm doing the right thing for once. Honesty is a funny thing, isn't it? You're always told as a kid to be honest, always honest; to never lie to anyone. But as you grow old, you realize that some things are better left unsaid, incomplete truths if not outright lies. Because the truth hurts. 

I inhale, smelling coffee and vanilla and hearing the whirring sound of ice being crushed. Em walks by the glass at that moment, then sees me and smiles. She reaches out with her right hand and presses her fingertips to the glass. I reach up with my hand and put it against the glass as well, the pads of our fingers lined up against each other from opposite sides of the window. A bracelet decorates her wrist, and it shimmers in the light. 

Em takes her hand off the glass and walks round to the entrance, the door opening with a jangle moments later as she comes in and sits down opposite me. I'd called her a few nights ago, suggesting we went to get coffee so we could talk. I watch her while we order, as she asks the waitress for a croissant and caramel latte. She's smart; she probably knows why she's here. But she only smiles and talks until our food comes: about school, about movies out in the cinema. 

After our orders arrive, she stirs the cream in her latte for a few seconds, finally lapsing into silence. "Kat's accepting visitors now," she says at last. "I think Gabe popped in for a few minutes yesterday to chat with her. She's still pretty weak, though."

"She's accepting visitors?" I try to keep my voice neutral, but I don't think succeed. 

Em smiles a little. "Yeah." She bites her croissant and chews. "Y'know, Ashton, you can just say it." 

I focus on my coffee. "Say what?"

"I know why I'm here. I know Kat, I know you. I know how you feel about her."

"Em-" I swallow. God, I should've thought of something to say. "I'm sorry," I say finally. And then, because it doesn't seem enough, I add, "I really am. Honestly. I'm so sorry." 

"It's okay," she replies, albeit quietly. "I kind of saw it coming."

"You did?" 

"Yeah. Just the way you talked about Kat, the way you looked at her and stuff. When you guys had that argument or whatever, you were so upset." She taps her nails on her mug, and then turns her dark eyes on me. "You knew about it all along, didn't you? Kat's anorexia?"

I can't meet her eyes as I say, "Yeah."

"You helped her. You were there for her." It's said as a statement; a fact.