chapter 10: hater
i talked to you the way i talk to myself
i started taking you for granted and that's not right
stopped saying "thank you" when i needed your help
but still, i'm taking you for granted and that's not right
i never really listen
but when you're gone a part of me is missing
i know it's complicated, we both feel the distance
i really hope that you'll forgive me one day
i'm sorry if i hurt you
i'm sorry if i hurt you
i'm sorry if i hurt you
i only make it worse
The clouds rolled in on Leah's sunshine as soon as Emily opened the front door to her townhouse.
Like a switch had been flipped, everything changed. The sky of Leah's ecosystem darkened. The air grew thicker. The wind shifted to blow in the opposite direction. Emily leaned against the open door frame with her arms crossed tightly over her apron. Leah could see the anger steaming off Emily's skin, holding her mouth in a tight scowl, clouding her puffy, glowering eyes… If she actually had any fighting skills, Leah would have received a broken nose herself by this point.
"Hey, Em—" Leah began.
"We don't need any introductions." Emily's words came out like steel, cold and impenetrable. "I know you're just here to make sure I'd still cover for you last night."
Leah's tone came off more guarded than she'd intended when she said, "Didn't know you became a mind reader overnight." She paused to soften her voice. "I really came to check on you, though. You'd know that if you answered any of my calls."
If looks could kill, Emily would already have buried Leah six feet in the dirt.
"Yeah, well, I've been busy, so…"
Leah gave her a once-over, assessing her flour-dusted apron and messy bun she had her hair pulled into. "I can see that."
"Right, and I'm still busy." Emily moved to close the door. "So get lost, Leah."
"Are you f—" Leah jolted back as the door slammed shut in her face. "What the hell?!"
At least Leah could say for certain that her alleged "attitude problem" ran in the family. She dropped her bag beside her and plonked down onto the covered porch of the house, letting out a disgruntled sigh. What a buzzkill.
The euphoria she'd incurred over the last twelve hours rushed out of her all at once, leaving her deflated. Emily just slaughtered whatever buzz that Leah had clung to throughout her trip from La Push to Neah Bay. It had been shot, stabbed, and run over by an 18-wheeler. On the front steps, Leah wordlessly delivered a eulogy to her buzz. If she had any flowers on her, she'd lay them down in honor of it. Buzzkill served as a severe understatement.
She had nothing to do but count all the ways that today had failed her. The next bus scheduled to head back south wouldn't depart Neah Bay for another four hours. Exactly zero of the public libraries in all of Clallam "Bumfuck Nowhere" County opened on Sundays anymore. It would take her at least 40 minutes to get to the nearest coffee shop on foot, even at her quick pace. She didn't have a basketball on her. She didn't have any schoolwork. She didn't even have a book to read.
At least she had music. Two CDs on repeat for four hours sounded better than the rain and her own thoughts. She put in her earbuds and powered up her CD player. Songs 4 Lee-Lee, Vol. 1 started up again at the opening track, and the batteries of her CD player died before she could hear the end of its second chorus. She yanked out her earbuds with a frustrated groan.
She took in nature's soundscape, listening to the rain as it pitter-pattered against the roof, ran off the gutters, and formed shallow mud puddles in the front yard. But it didn't bring her any sense of peace. She then realized that she'd made herself a hostage by showing up to Emily's house today in an attempt to do the right thing—a victim of her own kindness, all by accident. The current hostage crisis transpired because Leah had the audacity to check on her cousin after last night's disaster, like she'd promised. Keeping her word had only resulted in misery, and worse: utter boredom.
Okay, Emily! I get it! You're still pissed at me! You've made your point now!
Like an answer to her pleas, the front door unlocked with a low click, and Leah turned around to see Emily's face staring down at her. The rage in her cousin's eyes simmered down to a tamer state of extreme annoyance. She could live with that.
"Are you gonna just stand there and look at me, or are you gonna let me in?" Leah asked her. "'Cause the next bus back to La Push won't be for a while since it's, you know, Sunday."
"You can keep me company," Emily decided, widening the door. "But I don't wanna hear any of your opinions, or suggestions, or mentions of last night."
"Cool." Leah got up from the steps and trailed behind her into the house.
Emily didn't utter another word to her, instead brushing her hands against her apron and resuming whatever she'd been up to in the kitchen. This resembled a good sign rather than a bad one, given that Em baked to cope with hard feelings, but this ice-cold treatment had never been part of the upset-with-Leah protocol until now.
She followed Emily to the kitchen. The array of mixing bowls, plastic wrap, rolling pins, whisks, dough, and chocolate chips on the counter indicated that her cousin had a big project on her hands. Before Leah could ask her about it, Emily pushed the play button on the stereo sitting on the kitchen counter and twisted the dial to turn the volume up. Breathy, soprano vocals filled the silence, floating over a sweeping piano melody.
"So, it's an old school Mariah kind of day," Leah joked. "I feel like my mom's gonna show up and start making me clean the house."
Emily hummed a dry chuckle, not bothering to look up from the raw dough that she sliced on a cutting board.
Leah split off to the living room, where she settled into the sofa with the sole hope of passing time by channel surfing. At least the Young family had TiVo.
She perused the TV guide with the fancy remote control, the endless options scrolling before her eyes. She'd gone through a hundred channels when she called out, "Hey, Em. A Degrassi marathon is about to start if you wanna join me."
No response.
"It's season three," she added. "Your favorite."
She could feel Emily's treatment growing even more silent despite the music playing. A knot began twisting in her stomach. She glanced at her from the sofa and cleared her throat. "Um, hello?"
Emily reached for the dial and turned the music up louder, drowning out both the television and Leah.
"Whatever." Leah gritted her teeth and turned back around.
The house grew smaller and louder as the minutes passed. No amount of Canadian teenage antics could distract her from that. Leah felt like a prisoner of a passive-aggressive war, trapped inside of a five-octave torture chamber of melismas and whistle tones. Somehow, she'd encountered yet another penalty for being a good friend, another trap set by none other than herself. If she had known that Emily would continue to ice her out after inviting her inside, she would have just stayed out on the porch and counted raindrops.
It didn't take long for Leah to click the television off and return to the kitchen. Emily wouldn't talk to her, but she could still talk to Emily.
She took a peek at the stack of recipe pages on the counter.
Pain au chocolat.
The dramatics of it all. And it got worse: The long and complicated recipe had a total prep and cooking time of thirteen hours.
"Okay, I know you're obviously still upset about…" She caught herself before she could mention the unmentionable. "You know. But why are you baking something with the word pain in it and for thirteen hours?"
Emily finished rolling up dough around a chunk of chocolate and looked up. "It's French, dummy. I'm making chocolate croissants."
"Sounds yummy," Leah replied. "How long until they're ready?"
Her cousin shuffled through the pages and then glanced at her wristwatch. "Like three hours."
"Oh. So why chocolate croissants?"
"Just felt like it."
"Have you made them before?"
"Nope."
"Uh, okay."
Emily returned to her ambitious baking project, humming along to the music.
"I'm gonna go somewhere quieter," Leah said, leaving the kitchen. "Let me know when the croissants are done. Or not, I guess."
The music grew fainter as she ascended the staircase. In the hallway, melodic whistles turned into muted whispers while Leah's anxiety-ridden thoughts only amplified. The second door on the right led to her cousin's bedroom. She slowly creaked the door open, and the smell of Emily's body spray, Warm Vanilla Sugar, washed over her. The knot started twisting so tightly that it turned into tiny spikes, slicing up her insides.
Emily's bedroom embodied a museum—a physical manifestation of all the love in her life.
Every single artifact stared right back at Leah: The preserved flowers, the friendship bracelets, the movie theater ticket stubs (even to the worst ones they'd seen together). A half-finished beadwork project sat on the desk beside a small, framed photo of her, Emily, and the twins from last year's prom. The museum boasted so many of the bonds that Emily had taken the time to nurture for their whole lives. She'd curated the most sentimental collection.
And still, the artifacts displayed in the room didn't even represent even half of Emily's heart.
Leah remembered all the fresh brownies that Emily had given her to take home to La Push, always baked to perfection, to share with her parents and Seth. She remembered the cake that Em had baked for her fifteenth birthday, decorated with swirly pink frosting that looked so nice it could have come from the grocery store. And she couldn't forget the giant posters that Emily would paint and then lug from Neah Bay all the way down to La Push, just to cheer her on at her basketball games, always one of the loudest voices in the crowd.
She remembered the earrings and sunflower corsage that Emily had made her for this year's prom. The same ones that she'd carelessly stuffed into the first pocket of her bag that she could find.
She often regarded Neah Bay as her La Push away from La Push. It had the Olympic Mountains to the east, the Pacific Ocean to the west, the majestic Sitka-spruces, and the ceaseless rain to match. It had sprawling beaches and sharp cliffs. It had her auntie and her uncle and her cousin. Leah and Emily loved each other like sisters and fought like sisters too. So, naturally, Neah Bay existed as her home away from home.
Except she didn't have a place in this home anymore. She felt like an intruder with nowhere to hide.
Emily had worked so hard—too hard—trying to ensure that they would all have a prom night for the books. And in the end, Leah had turned into a world-class hater, thanking her by crapping all over prom night and then making her out to feel like a jerkass for being upset about it.
Defending Emily in the wake of Joseph's bullshit had immediately canceled out the second that Leah introduced her fist to his nose. Ruining prom in the name of protectiveness didn't matter when it only ended in the people closest to her getting hurt.
Then it hit her like a freight train.
It's me, Leah realized. I'm the jerkass.
She plopped down into Emily's bean bag chair, her emotional armor strewn in pieces around her. She shut her eyes but still felt all the artifacts staring her down behind her eyelids. Her throat tightened and she clenched her eyes so hard that it started to hurt. What better way to hide from the truth and the shame and every negative feeling about herself that she held in her chest than pretending to be dead to the world?
She almost succeeded until she felt herself falling in the darkness. She shuddered awake, catching her breath.
"Didn't mean to wake you up," Emily said, her tone apathetic. She slid open her closet door and reached up to the top shelf.
Leah could feel herself shrinking into the bean bag. "No worries. How are the croissants coming along?"
"They're fine." Emily shut the closet door as she balanced a noisy box in her arms—a 1000-piece jigsaw puzzle of a coral reef and all the different species of fish that lived in it. Emily left the room as unceremoniously as she'd entered it.
Leah refused to sit with herself for another minute. She hated puzzles, but she hated this hellish guilt trip even more.
She didn't say a word when she joined Emily at the dining table. It would have been useless anyway, since the music still blared throughout the house. She instead pulled up a chair and helped sort out the puzzle pieces.
Once they had most of the pieces sorted by color and pattern, Emily moved the croissants from the refrigerator to the oven. Before returning to the dining table, she turned the music's volume down from a sold-out arena concert to subtle background noise, much to Leah's surprise.
Not wanting to ruin the negligible goodwill she'd earned through her silence and willingness to help complete the tedious task of solving a 1000-piece puzzle, Leah kept quiet.
"I thought you hated puzzles," Emily said.
"Still do," Leah replied. "But this isn't too bad."
"Oh. Okay."
When it became evident that Emily wouldn't turn the music back up, Leah took a chance. "I know I'm not supposed to talk about last night," she began, "but how are you feeling today? I never really asked."
Emily pressed two blue pieces together and glanced up. "I've been sick to my stomach and I didn't get any sleep last night. I feel like hot garbage."
Leah nodded, but she wished she'd never asked. "That sucks, girl," she said with a grimace. "PMS is a real bitch. You should take some ibuprofen if you can eat something. Maybe make some tea… uh, try to get some good sleep tonight. Or something."
"Or something is definitely the plan once these croissants are done," Emily agreed.
"They smell amazing too. The stuff you bake always makes me feel better, so I know you'll be fine."
Her cousin's mouth pulled into a hesitant smile, but it didn't reach her eyes. "I hope so. How was your night with Sam?"
It was fucking awesome. The best. Everything and more. "Pretty cool. It's nice to not wake up as a virgin who can't drive," she joked, nonchalant. "Now I just can't drive."
"Shut up, really?!" Emily asked, her eyes widening. "I noticed you walking kinda funny, but I didn't wanna say anything."
"Yeah." Leah suppressed a grin, not wanting to add insult to her cousin's injury. "I'm obsessed with him or whatever."
"I can see that he's obsessed with you too." Emily's tone brightened, and her smile just barely reached her tired, shiny eyes. "He's the only guy I know who doesn't completely suck, and I've gone out with basically every guy in Neah Bay who's not my cousin."
"Thank god Neah Bay is so small, then."
They both laughed; Leah didn't hold back her smile this time.
Feeling lighter, she returned to putting the puzzle pieces together. Maybe she could pull an apology together too. There had to be the right combination of tactful words somewhere among all these little fractured, paperboard pieces of fish and water. Emily always wore her heart on her sleeve, and today, that sleeve had a tag on it that said, Fragile — Handle with Care.
"Look, I know your weekend's been shitty, partially because of me," she began.
Emily looked at her with scrunched eyebrows and pursed lips.
"Okay, mostly because of me," she corrected herself. "But at least you still have prom at your own school next weekend to do it all over." As the words flowed out, it grew that much easier to imagine herself getting out an apology—the right one, with all the right words and in the right order. "I'm totally down to go with you, if you want. We're gonna look so badass pulling up in the new car you're about to get."
At first, Emily's expression didn't change. "You still don't get it, do you?"
"What do you mean?"
Then Leah's heart sank as Emily's dark eyes filled with tears.
"It's more than just prom." Emily sniffled between her shaky words. "I mean, Joseph fucking hates me, right?"
Oh, shit. "I didn't really mean it," Leah half-lied. "I only said that because I was pissed off."
"No, you meant it," her cousin shot back. "And you were right because he is never going to talk to me again. I called him eleven times this morning and got sent to voicemail every single time. We would've been together for two whole years this summer, and now it's all over!"
Leah had to blink back tears of her own. "Em, I am so s—"
"Oh, now you're sorry?!" Emily cut in, her voice breaking. The waterfall of droplets streamed down her face and splashed onto the table. "What the hell is this late-ass sorry gonna do? Is it gonna unbreak his nose? Make him answer my calls?"
Leah recoiled. "Then it's a good thing I'm trying to apologize to you and not to him."
"Okay, and? You're a day late."
"I wasn't aware of any deadlines."
"It doesn't matter. I'm just so beyond sorry right now," Emily said, shaking her head. "What's done is done. We're through."
Fearing the answer, Leah didn't dare to ask which we Emily meant.
Having exhausted all her options by forgoing permission and completely miscalculating forgiveness, Leah gave up. She had no chance of going back to the drawing board, no desire to come up with a new strategy. The world's sorest loser just lost.
While Emily redirected her attention to the puzzle, Leah didn't even bother to participate. Instead, she watched the clock, counting down the minutes until she would leave for the bus stop. Fuck it.
Emily dropped a foil-wrapped plate of pain au chocolat in front of her, on the table. "Here."
"I get a whole plate?"
"No, dummy. They're for the Clearwaters who didn't punch Joseph in the face."
"You're too kind," Leah deadpanned.
"Aren't you gonna try one?" Emily asked. "I wanna know what you think since it's my first time making it."
Leah gave her a skeptical look. "You sure about that?"
"I didn't spend thirteen hours on this just to not get a second opinion."
"But I thought you didn't want my opinion today."
"Now I'm explicitly asking you for it."
"And you didn't poison this… right?"
Emily rolled her eyes. "Just try the damn croissant, Leah."
"Sheesh, okay." She lifted the foil and grabbed a piece. As she bit into the warm, flaky bread, the sweetest, most cloying flavor hit her taste buds.
"So…?" Emily prompted her.
"It's good, but the chocolate is a little too… chocolatey."
"I mean, it's chocolate croissants."
"Yeah, no shit," Leah said. "But the taste is just stronger than the other chocolate stuff you've made before."
"Hmm." Emily picked up a piece and took a bite. "Tastes fine to me."
After finishing the overly sweet piece of bread, Leah made her way out the front door, bag in tow. Emily followed her to the porch.
"Thanks for letting me hang with you," Leah told her cousin, her gratitude only half-sincere in her emotional depletion. "I know Joseph's not talking to you right now, but if you want to write him a note, I can give it to him for you. Or I can just drop it in his locker."
"Hard pass."
"Alright." Leah hesitated to speak again, but did anyway. "Are you gonna be okay, Em?"
"I don't know." Emily shrugged her shoulders, sniffling. "But can you promise me something?"
"Yeah?"
"Don't say anything to him at school tomorrow."
"As if I even wanna see his face." Leah snorted. "Don't worry about it."
"You need to pinkie-promise me."
"Em, believe me when I say I have zero interest in—"
"I'm dead serious, Leah." Emily stuck out her little finger.
Leah glanced at it, and then back up to her cousin's red, puffy eyes. "I promise." She hooked her pinkie to Emily's.
When they let go, they didn't hug goodbye.
With a heaviness on her heart and a plate of pain au chocolat in her guilt-ridden hands, Leah finally headed back to the bus stop. She wouldn't have minded if the rain washed her away instead.
Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable media or characters mentioned here. All histories and cultural aspects of the Quileute tribe belong to them.