Asunder

Chapter 42 - The Uncovering

"So... you're getting better?"

Emma sighs in response, toying with the hem of her sleeve. "Trying. Getting there." She's silent for a moment, and leans her forearms onto the kitchen counter. Then she speaks once more, voice even deeper than usual: "I never knew how much it would help to just... talk about it."
"Yeah?" I ask, hopefully.
She nods, with a small smile. "I feel understood. I don't feel alone in it." She shrugs, smile growing into something beautiful. "And I feel free."

Just at the right moment, the timer for the muffins goes off. She looks at me apprehensively, and I give her a soft answering smile, reassuring her that it's going to be alright. This is going to be alright.

Once they've cooled a bit, we free the muffins from their trays. One for each of us. She eats hers with a knife, fork, and very tall glass of water, so I do it with her; if only to make her feel more comfortable.
At each tiny bite she takes, I take one too, the chocolate chips melting perfectly in my mouth. But I forget the taste for something more important as I take step after step with her. She's silent through the whole thing, but inside me is a dull buzzing, a mix of concern and relief and happiness and fear.

But everything goes over fine. She swallows every piece. And when she's done, I hug her like it's the first time, and remind her again how incredibly beautiful she will always be.

I stay with her two hours more, and walk home with half the muffins afterwards; we have an agreement to accompany each other in their consumption. Hand in hand. I hug Dog on my way out, smiling at the swoosh of her pretty tail, and text Emma on my way to my house.

Like every time, its mint-painted rooftop appears into view. And I don't cringe anymore. I only gaze at it sadly. Remembering.

I cried out in pain, screeching into the air.
My mother's hand soothed over my back, her own sobs racking her body so thoroughly that our noises of aching bounced off the walls of my room.

Maya's room.

"Why?" I screamed, still seeing her eyes. Her hazelnut eyes. "Maya! Maya!"
"It's okay, Kingsley," mom sobbed. She cradled me as my stomach began convulsing. "It's okay. She's in heaven, now."
"Can she see us?" The pain in my chest stabbed again, again, again, until I can't even breathe. "How will she be able to see us?"
My mother brushed through my hair with shaking fingers, her sobs subsiding. Mine only grew louder. "We'll paint the roof."
"The roof?" I asked, fingers aching, mind splitting, soul shattering.
"Her favourite color," she whimpered, the tears coming forth again, and took a fistful of Maya's favorite mint hoodie where it rested between our chests. Between our missing hearts.

I wear the same hoodie today, sporting it for the first time in months.

Today's been silent in my head. Silent in my body. I can't help but glance at the house next to mine, that lovely home, and wonder: why today?

What is it today?

I can't see you tomorrow, he said.

Why?

Now I can't hold it back anymore, the curiosity. It bubbles up inside me from where I pushed it down for almost a year now. And is it so bad? Is it so bad that I want to know why he breaks down? Why he cries?
I don't want entertainment. And I don't want his facade.

I want him. All of him.

I will the words past my mind and through the crack at the bottom of his door. I will the message up into his room. And I hope he feels it half as much as I do.
And since there's nowhere else to go really, but inside my house, I enter, eyes still glued to his porch.