“Emily, are you okay?” Dad asks, still playing the concerned game.
“I’m fine,” I say. “I’m just tired, that’s all.”
“If anything’s wrong, promise me that you’ll go see your psychologist.”
“Yep, I will.” I mutter, looking into the cloud of steam.
“It’s all I ask, honey.” He dries his hands on a checker-patterned towel.
I don’t answer. I lean into the cloud of steam that’s coming out of the dishwasher. He could trap me in it and press SCALD. I’d curl up between a plate and bowl.
“Please, can you do that?” He questions again. Does he know that I heard him the first time?
“Yes,” I clench my teeth. “I can.”
“Thank you, darling.” He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes.
I roll my eyes before walking out of the room.
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“Emily, come here!” I wince as someone calls my name. I turn towards the voice, it’s Annie – sitting alone, waving her hands around in the air.
I force a smile, and walk towards her. She gestures to the chair across from her.
“Hey, how are you?” she asks. “Like, do you know how hectic it’s been around here?”
“I’m alright, I guess… and I haven’t really been paying attention to much around here.”
She smiles weakly. “Emily, I think we should talk.”
“We are talking now, aren’t we?” I shoot back.
“No, I mean that we need to discuss things.” She says. “We need to get to the root of your problems.”
I laugh. “Seriously?”
She reaches for me. “I think it’d help.”
I pull away from her. “Don’t tell me what to do. You have no power over me. My psychologist is here for all that stuff.”
Her eyes plead for me to stay, but I’m already tumbling over the chair.
“Emily, listen to me!” she cries. “You need some help! Please don’t pull away from everyone. We’re only trying to help.”
Only trying to help doesn't reach me because I’m already halfway out of the cafeteria.
