Just a little thing I put together after watching NON. Wemma are back!
It is hard to understand what she goes through, as a non- sufferer. You try to understand. And you know you do have more understanding than most people; others who walk past her in the hallway or who stare at her in the faculty lounge. You notice the insensitive looks she receives, the judgemental glares and the ignorance that follows. They don't want to understand and, quite frankly, wouldn't care to.
But that isn't what bothers her, not anymore. It's actually the living and dealing with it that haunts her, that threatens to never go away. You've only known her for around three years now but from the first day you were curious to know more about her. No, intrigued. Intrigued is a better word.
She caught your eye that September a few years back. For one, she was a new face among the sulky, half asleep and wishing that the uncomfortable chair they were sitting on was actually their bed, teachers at McKinley. You, yourself, were early to the faculty meeting that morning. You like to think it was because of your excellent punctuality but in reality, Terri had forced you to drive her to the mall for the 5am sales. She was already complaining that she had missed three hours and she wouldn't drive herself as that was added stress that may affect her from becoming pregnant. So you drove her, reluctantly.
You sat there in the English classroom after helping Figgins re-arrange the desks to appear more like a 'conference' room. The Principal sat opposite you, shuffling some papers in between restless yawns.
It was going to be a long year.
Some other teachers arrived not long after you swore you heard a snore escape from Figgins. It was in that awkward moment of smiling at the familiar faces that you first saw her.
Her hair caught your attention. It was a fiery red, a colour that was not that common amongst the members of the faculty, with perfect flicks and immaculate precision. The sweep of her bangs led your eyes to hers, wide and doey, yet beautiful.
As she walked passed Figgins, rather dithering, you felt yourself stand instantly to approach her. With an outstretched hand and a soft welcoming smile you spoke as she looked at you for the first time.
"Will Schuester", you greeted. "I teach Spanish here".
There was a small shy smile that embodied her face but it only lasted until she acknowledged your awaiting handshake. Those big brown eyes widened and your smile was replaced with worry. It was then that you remember the first signs.
Awkwardly pulling back your hand it reached the back of your neck embarrassingly. It wasn't her fault she didn't shake it. You put her on the spot, although it was only a kind gesture. "Sorry", you murmured, "That was a bit too formal, wasn't it?"
Her head lifted again to meet your face. She giggled.
At that specific moment you remember thinking you'd played it smooth. You'd managed to make her laugh. Yet now, three years on, you were laughing at yourself. You were too much of a dummy back then to realise her problems. But you'd learn and you're still learning now.
"No, it's not that", she spoke quietly still smiling showing her teeth, "It's just...–", she cut off her smile vanishing. Her gaze wondered off and she started to examine the floor. Suddenly she shook her head and looked back up to you, "Anyway sorry, I'm Emma Pillsbury, the new guidance counsellor".
Emma Pillsbury, your best friend.
And so much more.
"Nice to meet you Emma", you gave her a warm smile and you thought you saw her blush. You see her eyes wonder to look around the room. Teachers scattered here and there with empty vacant chairs dotted in between. "You can sit next to me", you offer casually trying to make her feel comfortable.
She smiles at you again, "Okay".
As you go to sit down she remains standing looking at the plastic chair intently. You remember feeling a pang of rejection. Maybe she just said yes to please you. She probably was going to sit somewhere else.
You look back up to her and she notices you staring. There was a flicker of a smile towards you before she took in a breath and sat down. That was sign number two.
Once she had finally sat down you try to act like you hadn't noticed her hesitation. A slight change of subject comes to mind and you turn to her and ask, "So, what brings you to McKinley?"
She pulls her chair into the desk and straightens out her blue skirt. "Um, not just McKinley, Lima actually".
"Lima? So you moved here?" Your response is immediate and your voice shows interest – a friendly interest.
"I moved in last week", she nods. "It's just a small condo but that makes it easier for me to keep on top off". Sign number three.
"Well, small means cosy right?" You smile at her lopsidedly having no idea what, in her mind, she meant by that statement.
"It depends what your definition of cosy is", she spoke quietly and with a hint of an accent. "It's cosy for me".
You take in her uneasy expression and it was then that you realised there was something more to Emma Pillsbury. There was something she was hiding, not like a crime, or even a secret, just something to her personality. Like there was a part of her she didn't want you to see.
"Did you move here alone?" You froze as soon as you asked her. Where did that question come from, Schuester? Not only was that probably personal and inappropriate but why do you care? It wasn't like it would make difference if she lived by herself or not. You bring your face up to meet hers, "Sorry, I didn't mean..."
She shakes her head, "It's okay". As she turns to look at you she pushes a lock of her styled hair behind her ear. "I used to live in Virginia, where I grew up but I decided that I needed a change. I needed, still do need, to get over a few things that are holding me back, so I moved. I left my home state and took this job. So here I am, just me".
You admire the way she had briefly explained everything to you, a complete stranger she had only just met. And you did feel kind of relieved by the fact that she is here in Lima, Ohio, by herself. "That's quite a big step to take", you smile at her impressed.
She gazes at you for a moment and there's a glint in her eyes. A sparkle of hope, maybe. It feels like she has made a connection with you, like you subconsciously have understood her.
You hold her gaze as you ask, "Are you trying to turn over a new leaf?"
There's a pause. It's strange but you feel yourself drawn to this woman.
"Something like that", she whispers while nodding as a soft smile graces her delicate face.
Your hold on her was broken when you suddenly are reminded that you are married. You think of your wife for the first time since you arrived. You can remember feeling guilty but Emma was so entrancing.
"You haven't told me anything about yourself", she states welcoming you to open up and introduce yourself properly.
You laugh, "There's not much to it Em". As soon as that nickname slips out your mouth you instantly turn to her for confirmation. "Can I call you Em?"
She looks a little shocked but nods nonetheless, "I'd quite like that... actually". Her face turns from a porcelain white to a blushing red. You get the feeling she likes her new name.
"Unlike you, I've lived here since I was born. I even went to this very same high school". You stop hesitantly, there isn't much more you can say about your life. Reluctantly you force yourself to say it, "I'm married". It comes out calm but you don't want to look at her reaction. You're scared of seeing something in her adorable eyes, something you can feel yourself.
"You are?" her voice is noticeable shakier than before.
You remind yourself that whatever it is you are feeling right now is mere interest. You've just met this woman so you're bound to be intrigued by her. "Yes", you wait for the silence again, "She was my girlfriend in high school".
You give in and spin your head round to face her. Only, you can't see her face because her hair is acting as a shield while she hides behind it. "Oh", you hear her mumble.
Now, in the present day, three years on, you have come to understand Emma far more than on that very first meeting. A lot of things have changed over the few years but one thing remains the same.
Her OCD.
Seeing her in the faculty lounge yesterday has brought back all the thoughts you first had when meeting her. Not only has she been trapped by this for many years but it is far worse than you had first imagined. Witnessing her almost breakdown because of it, seeing the despair in her eyes, woke you up. You will help her and that was a promise that you will keep for as long as she needs.
Polishing that grape for her was a symbol. You will be there for her, 'no judgement, just a friend'.
You're going to help her get over this thing, because you love her.
And that starts with a therapist.