SUNDAY GIRL

“ maybe you’re not gonna gain them by tomorrow, but the milkshakes are gonna pile up someday, madison. ” emma swaps her gum from one side of her mouth to another, attempting to salvage the last bits of taste from it. “ and there’s nothing wrong with sparkling water. it’s a brilliant alternative to regular soda. ” 

the look on her face was dark, only masked by the dim lighting of the streetlamps. she worked hard to conceal it, but was unable to. but, she supposed, lucas knew the affinity she had for books, and the people who wrote them. her downward expression might only have been a reaction to sylvia plath’s grim fate. “ honestly, lucas? it might sound incredibly pessimistic of me, but . . . yeah, i think she did. i mean, joan was written to seem . . . well, she was an oddball, a pretender, a bit of a baby, to be honest. but she also was apparently doing much better than esther. and, then, so suddenly, she’s killed herself. it’s like daisy in girl, interrupted, the one brittany murphy played in the movie; she was clearly sick, but functioning and suddenly snap. she’s dead. you turn the page. the book moves on. ”

her smile was fake, but her fervour was not. there was nothing emma loved more than when she got a chance to really delve into literature, especially with lucas. she nodded slowly, and stretched out her arms, formulating an answer. “ definitely. i don’t know how she does it, how she keeps it up for so long before cracking. like a gone off egg; it’s left and it’s left and when you grab it and break it . . . it’s even worse than you previously thought. ” it was only after she shut her big fat mouth that emma realized how deranged she sounded. “ of course, esther gets relatively better. but hey, it is semi-autobiographical . . . we all know what happened to sylvia. ”

her sleeves up around her palms, emma folded her arms over her chest. she bit her tongue and looked at the ground, figuring out just how to phrase what she was going to say. emma shook her head and finally, took that deep breath before the plunge. “ no. i don’t need one. ” it didn’t look like he was going to start the conversation. the atmosphere was like that of a room where someone had just died. a swallow. her mouth was dry. “ you didn’t . . . eat any of dinner. like, none of it. i . . . i didn’t eith       i didn’t know, wes. is, um, is this a usual thing for you? or are you just, i don’t know, having a bad day? ” emma’s heart skipped a beat, and her protective instincts kicked in. her eyes are plastered to the floor, hands balled into fists. what if she’s wrong? what if she’s wrong? if she’s wrong, then everything she’s been working for is ruined. 

" no, you won’t forget the steps, but when you try to do them tomorrow; you’re not going to be light on your feet. literally. ”  emma felt suddenly exposed, so she followed up her snap with a shrug of her shoulders.  “ i guess one won’t hurt you. i guess i’ll have a sparkling water. ”

" i suppose, when you put it like that . . . but i don’t know. it isn’t what i would have done. i probably would have, y’know, verbally retorted. i guess the concept of putting someone in their place is . . . it . . . it feels a bit like undermining them in return. which, in the situation at hand, is equality between the sexes in question, but i don’t know. it’s reminiscent of a modern case of john in ‘the yellow wallpaper’. y’know; you know best, in your opinion, hence the smack to the face, but no real interaction has happened between the parties in an effort to remedy the situation. i doubt a slap to the face will deter him from groping other women. on the other hand entirely, it might reinforce a belief that women are hysterical and are things to be tamed. ”

she wasn’t sure why exactly she laughed quite as loudly as she did, quite as piggishly as she did, but it felt wonderful. between her own personal problems and the ones she shared with her family at the moment, there was a feeling of lightness that always reared its head around lucas. she felt free to laugh. with a shake of her head, emma shrugged her shoulders as they walked on.  “ i mean, it’s not like we have to walk far or anything. a cab just doesn’t seem worth it, especially on a crisp night like tonight. work was good. all the usuals came in. i’m over halfway through ‘the bell jar’ too. it’s . . . ”  another shrug. she doesn’t want to say it rings true. she wouldn’t want lucas to worry.  “ it’s intriguing. i can’t imagine feeling that badly about myself. ”

this was not okay. emma, pushing her asparagus around on the expensive plate before it joined its brothers in her sleeves, sent a glare at wesley across the table. there was no way he hadn’t noticed her. they were one in the same, it seemed. she watched all the way through the first course          some posh little nibbly things that easily broke apart to look eaten without rousing any attention          and saw it clearly. his fork never touched his lips. once her plate looked suitably decimated, emma put on her best smile. she looked around at their families, and flashed her teeth at wesley in particular.  “ this house is so big; i always feel like i’m going to get lost on my way to the bathroom. speaking of; you’re out of toilet paper in your guest bathroom; i forgot to mention it earlier.. wes, could you show me to one of the other ones? ”  she knew full well he had no interest in showing her to a bathroom, but she hoped the look she gave him was enough to convey that emma had no intentions of relieving herself. a conversation was in order. before he even has given a response, emma pushed her chair out from the table and slithered out of the dining room. she waited outside the heavy door, sleeves clutched tight to prevent any stray evidence from slipping out.