Fragile: Handle With Care - Part 2
trigger warning for depression
The kettle clicked off as the water inside it boiled steadily. Ben lifted it in a smooth motion, and poured its contents into the mug sitting on the counter. He placed the kettle back and looked up again, craning his neck to see as far as he could down the hallway. He kept doing that, even though he knew he couldn’t see Jenny from his spot. Perhaps he hoped that by doing it repeatedly, he’d be able to silently reason with her to come back inside from the cold.
He dipped the tea bag into the hot water a few times, watching the color seep out and take over the clear liquid. He was at a loss, unsure how to help her. The rules of this game were so unclear. It seemed as though no matter what he’d do, he was doing it wrong. That didn’t keep him from trying though. He knew it was far too cold outside to let her lose herself out there.
He wished that he could talk to her, and ask her what to do, or what she needed. From the way she seemed though, he figured she didn’t even know how to help herself. Through a sudden burst of anger, he set the sugar jar down with too much force. He sighed then, heavy and frustrated, before composing himself and checking that the glass wasn’t cracked. He looked up again to the empty room and pinched the bridge of his nose. If only all of this could be as easy as just asking for a list of people she’d like him to personally bash in the face to fix that raw kind of sadness he saw trying to eat her alive. She didn’t deserve to have her days be such a struggle. Not Jenny. Jenny was too good of a person to have to endure such agony. He knew that first-hand.
On the first day they’d met, Jenny had backed him up in front of his father. She hadn’t needed to; he wasn’t sure he would have done the same for her after knowing her for all of three hours, but she’d done it effortlessly, and without having to be asked. He’d lent her his car the next day as thanks, expecting that to be it, for the two of them to find some easy rhythm to carry them through the rest of the year.
She mystified him in a way. The girl who tried to be so nonchalant, so indifferent to everything and everyone, was actually very kind-hearted, and sensitive to things other people didn’t even notice. In small ways, she kept surprising him in the weeks after their initial meeting, whether it was keeping him company during a movie he was watching only to keep from punching someone repeatedly after a ‘discussion’ with his father, or to listen to him detail a hypothetical scenario they both knew wasn’t even remotely hypothetical, offer her opinion, and then, also without being asked, pretend that conversation had never happened. He’d never had a friend like that before; a friend who was also lonely, and broken, and tired like he was, and understood his family and upbringing so well. Unlike him, Jenny was honest. She’d never lied to him, as though she’d already figured out what this world expected of her, and was only searching for a way to quietly live in it. He admired her for that. It wasn’t long before they became unannounced best friends, and he felt lucky to be in her life, because she was one of the good souls, as his mother used to say.
With that unannounced title came his silent vow to look out for her, much like he figured an older brother would. They both played it off as nothing in front of each other and company, but it was a bond he felt he could lean on when he needed to, and hoped that Jenny felt the same. That was why he kept looking up, hoping he’d see her. He’d driven her home from the park, and she’d barely made it through ten minutes inside the house before he saw her quietly make her way down the hallway to sit on the cold, concrete steps leading to a backyard they didn’t really use.
He saw how much she fought with some invisible force to hold onto her control. He saw how hard she tried not to cry, and how stoic she became in the blink of an eye when he accidentally said the wrong thing. He saw the guilt in her eyes, the inner struggle she endured before the day had even really started. What he really wanted to tell her was that he thought she was the bravest person he’d ever met. If he had been in her situation, having to face the living hell she went through some days, he would have given up a long time ago. He wouldn’t have stayed kind-hearted and honest. He would have relished the wind on his face as he hurled toward rock bottom at full force. He wouldn’t have stopped himself from spinning out of control. But she did. She fought it every moment some days, though she looked so fragile that it could swallow her. And he watched her fight it with awe.
But he didn’t tell her that. He knew she wouldn’t let him. So instead, he simply made her tea.
He tugged on his jacket, picked up the mug and the sandwich he’d prepared distractedly in the last few minutes, and made his way down the hall toward the patio door, making enough noise so as not to surprise her. Once he nudged it open with a socked foot, he tried to ignore the cold air hitting his face and hands. He sat down beside her and held out the mug. She slowly looked at him with tired eyes, noted the tea he held, and met his gaze quizzically. She looked so sad to him.
He carefully tucked away the concern on his face with a dismissive roll of his eyes. “Okay,” he made a playful show of it, “so I put a little more than a teaspoon of sugar inside. How can you even tell?!”
His heart jumped into his throat when he saw her crack a weak grin. She hadn’t even asked him for tea, but he figured that that’s what she would have done for him if the situation were reversed…and if he even drank tea. He felt quite proud of himself when she reached out with both hands and took the warm mug in a silent thank you.
“You’re supposed to drink it and then tell me everything,” he continued, feeling brave with his words. “It says so on the box.”
“Is that right,” she replied in a soft, almost frail voice, but it was a quip nonetheless.
Before he could rejoice in the fact that she was talking, he saw her eyes fill with tears again, and her lips pressed shut as she took a panicky kind of breath through her nose, like she was trying to regain her balance after a moment of dizzying weakness. He forced his gaze down to the grass after that, angry at himself that he’d brought back her pain.
They were quiet for a little while before he heard her speak again, and her words cut through him like shards of broken glass. “I feel like I’m messing everything up,” she said meekly to the cold, still air. She sighed quietly after she spoke, like confessing those words out loud made them even heavier to hold.
He opened his mouth to reply, and his lips stayed parted as he watched her place the mug carefully between them before standing up and disappearing into the house with tear-stained cheeks. He stayed outside for a while, seated by the now cold cup of tea and uneaten sandwich. He stared into the darkened landscape as tears gathered behind his own eyes.
He hated watching helplessly as she struggled.
She folded her arms across her chest as she walked down a quiet street. Quiet streets meant not as many passersby to avoid. The wind had picked up, but she didn’t mind. It stung her eyes and gave an easier excuse for the tears not leaving them. Her muscles hurt, but she didn’t care. She deserved the pain from the harsh cold air in her lungs, nipping at her skin, and wearing her down. She focused on the sound of her footsteps as she trudged on, one street after another.
She felt empty, yet so overloaded with thoughts. The combination sent her head spinning.
Ben was sweet to worry about her, to call and check in, to collect her from the park earlier. She was undeserving of his kindness. She knew that he had plans tonight, and had a feeling that if she’d have stayed home, he would have loitered outside of her bedroom, checking in on her rather than being the nervous-excited mess he usually was before a promising date. Outside on the steps, she saw him begin to reach out and place a reassuring hand on her knee, as anyone would do when they were beside themselves trying to comfort someone. But she couldn’t let him comfort her. That had been the reason she’d left so abruptly. She’d been too tired to move, but she’d had to escape, because if he’d have placed his hand on her knee, it would have unraveled everything she’d managed to hold onto. It would have unraveled her completely.
She pressed her hand against her gut, fighting a prickling wave of nausea, very much aware of the fact that she didn’t have anything left to throw up anymore. The pain trickled into her eyes, to her sinuses, to her ears, burning at the base of her throat; unwilling to be ignored. She stuffed her hands into her pockets again and welcomed the wind trying to blow through her as she kept walking, not interested in where she ended up, just as long as she didn’t stop.
She’d hoped her thoughts would tire at some point, and she could just leave them behind, desert them on some street corner forever. They mocked her for her naïve perception of the situation, and as punishment, released a hot line of tears from her eyes, turning the skin beneath them to a soft pink when it mixed with the cold winter air. They further tortured her with conjured memories of her parents.
She drew in a full breath and let them.
On her last day in rehab, her parents had come once again to collect her. She was mildly surprised to see them, as her father had spent every one of their visits to the clinic yelling at her for dragging them through that mess again. She forced a small smile onto her lips when she saw them, and clutched her backpack in her hands as they finished the final paperwork for her release. She readied herself for the journey home; for the yelling, and the anger, and the sheer disappointment that her existence seemed to cause for her parents. She looked at her father’s face as he signed the last page, noting the calmness in his features. She wondered if he’d even look at her this time.
She swallowed thickly when he passed the clipboard back to the nurse behind the desk and turned to face her. His shoulders rolled back and straightened out, and hers did too, to show him that she was being respectful. Her gaze fell from his unreadable eyes to the paper in his extended hand. ‘To your new beginning,’ he said to her with a tight, plastered smile and distant gaze. ‘Since our home doesn’t seem to suit you, perhaps a change of scenery is in order,’ he continued in that same stony calmness. She saw her mother’s arm wrap around his, just above the elbow, in a silent motion that suggested he be kinder to their only child.
In that moment, standing in that sterile lobby in front of her parents, looking at the ticket in her father’s hand, she began to withdraw from the world, tucking herself away until she could seal off the door to her heart against a military attack. The one-way trip to Germany gave her just enough time to lock down every thought and feeling she had to its rightful place.
Somewhere around there, the old, familiar ghosts that had been briefly overshadowed by the drugs began to emerge from the back of her mind, where they had lived and grown quietly for years. Every once in a while they visited, reminding her of her faults, failures, and shortcomings, promising her that she wasn’t good enough, before retreating back to their dark corner to watch her struggle. When they emerged this time, they were much darker than she had remembered them being, and much harder to ignore.
They stroked her cheek as she tried not to cry, and promised her that they would see her through. She didn’t mind the malice in their invisible motions, or the sting of their touch. She didn’t fight them. She stopped resisting and succumbed with grace.
She’d had so many fresh starts, so many new cities and new schools that it all happened effortlessly, at least on the outside. She was polite, woke up on time, smiled and laughed; pretended. People took to her as they had throughout her whole life, and casual friends fell into step with her in the hallways at school in no time.
While her peers talked about menial events like volleyball tryouts and the upcoming test in Chemistry, she quietly daydreamed about the dark, secret things one wasn’t supposed to indulge in. Thoughts danced around in her mind, guiding her, coaxing her, pulling her into a dark, maze-like trap, further and further until she didn’t notice there was no longer an exit to be found.
She saw the looks her classmates shot her. She knew what they thought of her; rude, pretty, confident. Untouchable. The truth was that she was envious of them. They were all so very normal, wrapped up in their silly high school dramas. She played along with them, because as long as she pretended, no one would suspect that she had moments where she lost hope; in herself, in the world, in ever feeling normal again, and then that wretched feeling would go away, like some glimpse of what was waiting for her as she continued her descent. Pretending allowed her to feel like she was close to normal for a little while each day. Behind all of that pretending though, she wasn’t nearly as untouchable as they all thought. Something had broken inside of her, and pushed past the delicate porcelain enclosure that had trapped it for so long. A seemingly harmless seed rooted itself quietly in her mind, and as soon as it did, it grew and expanded, whispering the most unmerciful words of self-doubt that spread inside her body like wildfire. Those thoughts nipped at her, and dragged her down, and she let them.
During school hours, she felt their presence, in step with her as she laughed along to some meaningless conversation. Her laughter was forced, but her classmates didn’t notice. She’d always been very good at pretending. But when she found herself alone, her ability to pretend vanished. Beneath the hot stream of water in the shower, she felt a hand around her throat, not squeezing, but just there, reminding her of how little control she had as unshakably lonely thoughts seeped through her mind. At nights, they circled her small frame at dizzying speeds, until finally settling like a heavy, invisible weight across her stomach, strapping her to the bed, making it a little harder to escape each time.
The drugs had been nothing compared to this.
While she managed to pretend at school, and pretend on the phone, and pretend with the strangers she met, it made her relentlessly empty and tired. She’d never become the child her parents had wanted. She didn’t know how to be that child, so what chance did she have at becoming that adult? She wanted them to be proud of her; she wanted to be good enough. The day she realized that she’d never meet their expectations was the day she began to believe the overpowering ghosts that whispered poisonous words in her ear all day.
Any good thoughts she’d managed to hold onto were quietly succeeded, slowly but surely ensuring no way out of the sadness that overtook her when she was alone. Her insecurities had seeped so far into her muscles and bones and organs by the time a new day began, that it surprised her how masterfully she was able to compose herself for school. If only her classmates knew that it was all a carefully executed act. What she wanted more than anything some days was to quite simply and completely escape it all, to escape herself.
Throughout her days, she imagined possible news reports of her death, altering them whenever a new thought formed in her mind. High school student dies in car accident. Former child star died tragically on Thursday morning…Pipe bursts in Cologne high school, six students injured, one dead…Home robbery turned homicide, Police investigate the tragic death of a young girl. Then there were the quieter scenarios; cardiac arrest - a tragic, rare, yet not unheard-of cause of death at her age, lightning strike, rare form of cancer (there was a biology test only a few days away, and everyone was cramming for it). It wasn’t that she wanted to die. She didn’t. She just didn’t want to exist sometimes. It terrified her that she wouldn’t be able to explain the intrinsic difference between the two to someone else. It was just easier to think about a world where she wasn’t around to feel it all so much.
She tried to imagine her parents’ reactions to the news. Her mother would cry, she’d decided. Her father would probably continue to throw himself into his work. She wasn’t planning on causing that unending pain to her parents, but dancing around the fire kept her from walking right into it. She just wanted it all to be quiet for a little while. So she let herself wonder who would miss her, who would still think about her five years later. The thoughts swirled in her mind as life continued around her for everyone else.
No one knew the things that went through her head when she was encased in sadness. She never wrote about them, or shared her dark daydreams with anyone. After all, one wasn’t supposed to think about those things.
A little over a month after she’d been moved to Cologne, and four successfully-passed drug tests later, her mother began calling her regularly every few days. It took her another week to answer those calls. They avoided most subjects with any relevance to them, but she had to admit that hearing her mother’s voice made her feel a little closer to herself. She continued to daydream quietly about a reality in which she didn’t exist, which was a strange way to pass the time, but no one was making her stop, so she didn’t.
She indulged.
Thoughts of Emma had drifted around in her mind from the first few days at the new school. They were fine as long as they weren’t interfering with the time she’d set aside for her inner war with herself. She’d fought it for a while, but thinking of Emma was a little like finding fresh air when the skies were thick with smog; it was refreshing in a way that she hadn’t thought was possible.
So she spent more and more time thinking about her; about her laugh, and the way her nose scrunched up when she couldn’t hold in that wide grin of hers anymore, about how easy it was to make her blush, and how absolutely crazy she drove her. She thought about how happy Emma let herself be, and what joy she found in little things that Jenny also used to love. They were rare qualities in a person. Jenny was sure she’d never met anyone like her before.
It happened in a slow, quiet way. Painless. One night, when she couldn’t fall asleep after some silly, pointless argument or another with the girl who danced in her thoughts, Jenny realized that it had been days, whole days since she’d thought about not existing. There was no grand party in celebration of that fact, only a small smile that curved her lips at making it out from that darkened, shifting maze in her mind. And Emma had pulled her out without even knowing it. And that…that had taken a special kind of magic.
The next day, she kissed Emma for the very first time.
It was her own version of thank you.
She came to a stop and lifted her gaze from the ground. She couldn’t say she was surprised at where she’d ended up. It seemed that her legs, paired with the steady beat in her chest, kept guiding her to Emma, whether she’d started out that way or not. She slid her hands into her pockets and worried her lower lip as she looked up at the house. As she released the heavy air in her lungs, she realized that she’d reached the place she hadn’t known she was looking for. She longed to see Emma, suddenly unsure what had taken her so much time to see that. She quietly cleared her throat as she walked up to the door, feeling a burst of nervous energy in her veins.
When the door pulled open, the knots in her stomach tightened painfully. She fleetingly wondered if she’d ever be able to untangle them. Her heart raced as she forced herself to hold Emma’s gaze, even though she felt a desperate need to cower away.
“Hey,” Emma greeted her in a soft, warm voice. She leaned a little against the door and smiled, and Jenny couldn’t mistake how happy those eyes were to see her.
“Emma, who is it?” a familiar voice called from inside, and Jenny’s heart spun into overdrive as her brain caught up. It was Tuesday night. Emma was having an evening at home with her sisters. Jenny shut her eyes for a moment as she chided herself for her own stupidity, because the fog in her head had quite suddenly decided to remind her that Emma had told her about tonight at least twice. In the span of one single second, she felt so small and stupid for forgetting. A wave of dizziness passed through her that had her shivering again. Her hands fidgeted uncomfortably. She wished she hadn’t come.
Emma didn’t look at all phased by the people inside requesting her attention. She took a moment to soak in the girl standing at her doorstep. Jenny did look down then, because she knew exactly what Emma saw. She looked tired and broken, and the red rim of her eyelids looked like a permanent fixture.
“I’m sorry, I forgot,” she heard herself say as she pressed her thumbnail into the soft, fleshy palm of her hand for showing up like this. Emma reached over and separated her hands so that she could hold onto one of them, and the warmth of her touch brought tears to Jenny’s eyes again. She’d been so sure that she’d run out of tears by now. “I’ll go, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she continued, looking up to meet Emma’s eyes again, in some impossible attempt to show her that she wasn’t so fragile.
A single loud clap sounded from inside, over the whistle noises coming from the television, before someone called, “Double minor penalty!” at the screen in obvious excitement.
Emma momentarily looked over her shoulder and smiled. She shook her head as she pressed her thumb along the cold, smooth skin of Jenny’s wrist. She felt Jenny’s grip loosen to pull away, so she stepped a little further out of the house and squeezed the hand she was holding. “You aren’t interrupting,” she assured her with a soft smile that kept saying, ‘I’m happy to see you.’
Jenny looked up with raw vulnerability in her tired eyes. She liked the way Emma held her hand so contentedly.
“I mean it. Natalie’s been arguing and making up with her boyfriend on the phone for the last hour, and Jess is busy trying to learn the rules of hockey for some reason, don’t ask,” she explained in a playful voice as they stood there in the cold.
Jenny nodded with her gaze lowered. She continued streaming air in and out of her nose, catching that soft scent that was so completely Emma that was tucked inside the bitter air. That scent made her want to curl up in Emma’s arms forever. She knew she was safe in there.
“I’m serious, it’s weird. To the best of my knowledge, she doesn’t even like sports, and she wouldn’t even let me leave for a moment to get my phone from upstairs so I could at least write you about how horrible it is to sit there watching her watch sports, so I was trying to summon you using only mind power,” Emma continued in that happy voice of hers. “Apparently I’m more talented than we knew,” she offered with a playful shrug. She smiled after that, all open and honest and joyful. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she added, hardly above a whisper as she gently tugged on their clasped hands.
Jenny watched her, still unconvinced. If she’d had an ounce more energy, she would have made her excuses and walked away. She saw Emma’s eyes studying her quietly, and watched her smile soften, until it was that smile she only showed to Jenny, before her lips began to move again.
“Really, really glad,” she added sweetly. Jenny only bit down on her lip again as Emma led her into the warm house without argument.
“Oh, hey Jenny,” Jessica greeted her kindly as Emma closed the door behind them.
“Hi,” Jenny replied, and forced her lips up into a smile. She tried not to wince from the struggle. Everything felt like a struggle. She turned back to Emma as her elevated heart rate notified her that she was running out of air again.
“We’re going upstairs,” Emma announced to her sisters, glancing from Jessica on the couch to Natalie at the table with the phone glued to her ear.
“You’re leaving me here to learn the five-hundred different penalties all on my own?” Jessica whined playfully as they started climbing the stairs.
Jenny looked back to Emma, ready to tell her that she could leave, and Emma should spend time with her sisters like they planned, that this wasn’t any type of emergency situation. Emma only squeezed her hand and turned to her sister. “Absolutely,” she replied without missing a beat as she led Jenny upstairs.
Jessica huffed playfully. “Have fun,” she called after them in a singsong voice,
“You too,” Emma teasingly sang back.
She heard Emma shut the door behind them. She looked around the familiar room, noting that the lack of warmth at her side meant that Emma had stayed by the door, watching her in that delicate, careful way she did sometimes. With her back to Emma, she took a silent breath, trying to ward off the strange panic that had followed her into one of her favorite places on the planet. She suddenly, helplessly tried to avoid Emma’s soft, kind, loving gaze, and reached up self-consciously to touch her cheek, not realizing that she’d cried recently, but it had been getting difficult to keep track today. Finally she met Emma’s gaze, and saw those gentle, worried eyes try to gauge how long she’d been crying. I’m sorry, she wanted to say, to yell, to cry. She just stood there, silently falling apart, and rubbed the inside of her wrist anxiously.
She wasn’t even moving and she felt herself spinning out of control.
She wanted out of her own skin.
Emma took a step toward her, and Jenny sucked in a breath as she felt tears again, like they wouldn’t ever stop. She bit down hard on her lower lip, because she couldn’t put on a brave face, and it scared her how little control she had over herself.
Emma continued to move slowly in the small room, like one would do with a wounded, caged animal. She took Jenny’s hand in both of hers and turned it gently as she brought it up to her lips. She pressed a slow kiss to the pinkish-colored skin on the inside of her wrist. Jenny watched her with watery eyes. She sucked in another helpless breath as Emma sat her down on the bed, like Emma had known that her legs were moments away from giving out.
Once her body made contact with Emma’s bed, she found herself lying down, and curling her feet up to rest on her side like a small child. She shut her eyes and curled her body in further, feeling raw and exposed, frail and broken apart. She heard Emma put on some music to softly clear away sounds of the television downstairs, before the bed dipped at her side. She wanted Emma close, but she wasn’t sure. She wanted to be touched, and held, and soothed, but she didn’t think she could handle it. She wanted to talk, but she just couldn’t. She hoped Emma understood what she was asking for, because she sure as hell didn’t know.
Emma lay down beside her, and Jenny immediately curled closer. They moved together into a dearly missed and thoroughly familiar position, one that had been established a long time ago as one of quiet, where some semblance of peace could be found, away from the loud, dangerous, frightening world outside.
A while passed them in silence, Jenny wasn’t sure how long. Her tears came silently and then dried again. Emma’s soft touches never stopped, and Jenny was surprised that they hadn’t raised painful goose bumps on her frail skin, like when Ben had held her hand in the park hours earlier. She took comfort in the subtle, calming scent of fresh laundry mixed with Emma’s shampoo that wrapped her in warmth.
“I love you,” she said suddenly, and it was strange to hear her own voice so quiet and frail. She felt Emma move the hair from her face.
“I love you too,” Emma replied so calmly, like she wasn’t afraid of the fact that Jenny was internally spinning out of control in her arms, like she could be strong enough for both of them for a while.
She wanted to talk again, or hear Emma talk, but she was too tired, and too exhausted to ask. The sounds in the house drifted in and out between the music. She heard doors open and close, until it was only quiet for a long while. That was how she knew that it was late in the world they’d temporarily left behind.
At some point, Emma rose slowly from the bed. Jenny watched her pull some clothes from the closet. She watched her change silently into those clothes. She watched Emma place clothes at the end of the bed for her to change into as well, and then closed her eyes when Emma kissed her temple before quietly stepping out and shutting the bedroom door behind her.
She looked at the clothes folded beside her, unsure why she was hesitant. She hadn’t spent the night here in weeks. She didn’t want to be away from Emma. She didn’t want to move anymore, but still her stomach twisted uncomfortably as she looked at the pile. You’re being ridiculous, she finally told herself a minute later, and changed into the oversized t-shirt that smelled like Emma and fresh laundry. She settled back into her curled position on the bed after that, as the room didn’t spin quite so much when she was lying down.
When Emma returned, she clicked off the light, and Jenny was grateful for the darkness. She listened to Emma pull her bedroom window open a little for air, before she was climbing back in beside her, under the covers this time.
She reached for Emma as soft light came in from outside, resting a tentative hand on her waist. Slowly, she moved her hand up along the warm, thin fabric, as if rediscovering her. Emma lay quietly on her side and watched her explore. Jenny felt the waves of her ribs, protecting such an irreplaceable heart. She moved her touch over them again, before her hand settled between their bodies, nestled in warmth. She curled in slightly, and was proud of herself for not flinching when Emma’s arm wrapped calmly, lovingly, protectively over her.
With her eyes fully adjusted to the semi-darkness, she looked up to see Emma’s eyelids grow heavy, which only proved to emphasize the fact that she was as far away from sleep as could be. This had been the reason she’d stopped spending the nights here a few weeks ago, so as not to drive Emma crazy with her restlessness. She figured that if she couldn’t escape herself, then she should at least let Emma do so. She took in a readying breath, and apologized silently as she pulled the blanket off of her legs and sat up.
“Please don’t leave.”
Emma’s voice surprised her. “Em, I have to,” she began to say with her back to her, starting a conversation-turned-argument that neither of them wanted to have.
“No, you don’t,” Emma replied in a plea.
Jenny’s heart clenched painfully at the emotion screaming inside her quiet voice. She turned and looked at her apologetically, but Emma sat up and took gentle hold of her wrists before she could respond.
“I know it’s hard for you. I know. Just…just please don’t leave again,” Emma said in a watery breath.
Her hands went limp in Emma’s hold. Any words she could think to say back would only be like all the others she’d spoken. Inadequate. Everything about her these days felt inadequate. She looked up at those eyes again, wondering how many more times Emma would have to love her when she was broken. The blood rushed to her head, making her painfully and worryingly dizzy. She was moments away from crying again.
“Okay,” she breathed, and dutifully leaned back down on the soft surface.
She took shaky breaths against Emma’s shoulder for a few quiet minutes, and shut her eyes when Emma trailed barely-there kisses on her face and in her hair. Behind her eyelids, she saw her parents, like fragmented ghosts lying in wait to taunt her.
The last time they’d come to visit her, she’d seen the shadows in their eyes. They had seemed older, as though exhausted by life. When they’d met Emma for the first time, she didn’t interest them in the same way that ‘Mama, Papa, I’m better now, honestly, I’m doing good, I’m clean, and I’m going to stay clean, I promise,’ hadn’t moved them in the past. And that was her doing. She’d messed up the chance to see them happy for her.
As she lay there, dismantled of her defenses in Emma’s arms, her ending with her parents seemed like the most bittersweet gift. She’d been given the chance to see her parents smile, truly, honestly smile at her, and tell her they were proud of her, that they believed her, before they boarded that plane. In that moment, she felt lucky in a way. She’d gotten to say goodbye.
She slipped her hand into Emma’s and felt herself drift away, safely anchored to a world that still existed; a world where she, too, still existed.
Sleep took her within minutes.
She awoke uneasily. The amount of light in the room confirmed that it was morning, but she didn’t bother rising to check the time. She knew it was still early. Even with fading in and out, and the heaviness of waking up, she’d managed to sleep more that night than the past week combined. It was just the right kind of warm under Emma’s blanket, with the two of them there together. It seemed like the first time she’d felt warm in weeks. She looked up at Emma, still peacefully asleep, and thanked her silently for tethering her back to the ground, no matter how much she’d wanted to break free of it as of late.
Her mind was still a fog, her stomach was still in knots, and her lungs still craved air, but she also felt a small, significant wave of calmness that she hadn’t expected. Perhaps that was the reason her tired legs had brought her to Emma, in search of that familiar sensation. She released a full breath as she rested against Emma again. She’d never really doubted this fact, but instead kept proving to herself that she’d known it all along: Emma was a special kind of magic.
When Emma’s alarm sounded, Jenny watched her roll to her side to turn it off. She saw Emma press a hand to her eyes to adjust to the light in the room, and she watched in the moment when Emma realized that she was still beside her.
That was a good feeling.
“Hey,” Emma greeted her with soft eyes and a smile Jenny had missed seeing. “I’m glad you stayed,” she said in a voice thick with sleep.
“Me too,” she replied quietly. She reached up and stroked slow lines up and down Emma’s arm, like she used to do in the mornings to keep herself and Emma from falling back asleep, back before she was so broken. “What’s your day like today?” she asked, because she’d missed Emma’s morning voice, and while she knew it was only a matter of moments before the broken part of her rose to the surface again, she wanted Emma to see this part of her as well. It was almost like before.
Emma rubbed at her eyes to fight off sleep and snuggled into Jenny’s side a little. “It’s Wednesday,” she stated, more to herself, as she worked on waking up. “I switched shifts with the new girl, her cousin got married yesterday or something,” she began to explain in the midst of a yawn. “So it’s an easy day, mostly errands.” She sleepily looked over at Jenny and kissed her cheek. “I love you so very much,” she told her in a whisper, for no particular reason, which made it that much more significant. She then rolled onto her back and released another yawn into the room, and Jenny felt something at the base of her throat that was remotely reminiscent of a giggle trying to escape. She sobered immediately when Emma began to climb out of bed, taking the entirety of the warmth and safety and calmness that had blessed them throughout the night with her.
“Would it…” she said suddenly, only to trail off. Emma turned to her and patiently waited for her to continue. “Could I…come with you?”
Emma smiled slowly, and it was a beatific smile. “Of course,” she answered, careful not to overwhelm Jenny with happiness.
Jenny tucked her hair behind her ear in a bashful movement. “Do I have time to shower?”
Emma leaned over and kissed her on the corner of her lips. “Take your time,” she replied, before climbing out of bed.
to be continued…
The kettle clicked off as the water inside it boiled steadily. Ben lifted it in a smooth motion, and poured its contents into the mug sitting on the counter. He placed the kettle back and looked up again, craning his neck to see as far as he could down the hallway. He kept doing that, even though he knew he couldn’t see Jenny from his spot. Perhaps he hoped that by doing it repeatedly, he’d be able to silently reason with her to come back inside from the cold.
He dipped the tea bag into the hot water a few times, watching the color seep out and take over the clear liquid. He was at a loss, unsure how to help her. The rules of this game were so unclear. It seemed as though no matter what he’d do, he was doing it wrong. That didn’t keep him from trying though. He knew it was far too cold outside to let her lose herself out there.
He wished that he could talk to her, and ask her what to do, or what she needed. From the way she seemed though, he figured she didn’t even know how to help herself. Through a sudden burst of anger, he set the sugar jar down with too much force. He sighed then, heavy and frustrated, before composing himself and checking that the glass wasn’t cracked. He looked up again to the empty room and pinched the bridge of his nose. If only all of this could be as easy as just asking for a list of people she’d like him to personally bash in the face to fix that raw kind of sadness he saw trying to eat her alive. She didn’t deserve to have her days be such a struggle. Not Jenny. Jenny was too good of a person to have to endure such agony. He knew that first-hand.
On the first day they’d met, Jenny had backed him up in front of his father. She hadn’t needed to; he wasn’t sure he would have done the same for her after knowing her for all of three hours, but she’d done it effortlessly, and without having to be asked. He’d lent her his car the next day as thanks, expecting that to be it, for the two of them to find some easy rhythm to carry them through the rest of the year.
She mystified him in a way. The girl who tried to be so nonchalant, so indifferent to everything and everyone, was actually very kind-hearted, and sensitive to things other people didn’t even notice. In small ways, she kept surprising him in the weeks after their initial meeting, whether it was keeping him company during a movie he was watching only to keep from punching someone repeatedly after a ‘discussion’ with his father, or to listen to him detail a hypothetical scenario they both knew wasn’t even remotely hypothetical, offer her opinion, and then, also without being asked, pretend that conversation had never happened. He’d never had a friend like that before; a friend who was also lonely, and broken, and tired like he was, and understood his family and upbringing so well. Unlike him, Jenny was honest. She’d never lied to him, as though she’d already figured out what this world expected of her, and was only searching for a way to quietly live in it. He admired her for that. It wasn’t long before they became unannounced best friends, and he felt lucky to be in her life, because she was one of the good souls, as his mother used to say.
With that unannounced title came his silent vow to look out for her, much like he figured an older brother would. They both played it off as nothing in front of each other and company, but it was a bond he felt he could lean on when he needed to, and hoped that Jenny felt the same. That was why he kept looking up, hoping he’d see her. He’d driven her home from the park, and she’d barely made it through ten minutes inside the house before he saw her quietly make her way down the hallway to sit on the cold, concrete steps leading to a backyard they didn’t really use.
He saw how much she fought with some invisible force to hold onto her control. He saw how hard she tried not to cry, and how stoic she became in the blink of an eye when he accidentally said the wrong thing. He saw the guilt in her eyes, the inner struggle she endured before the day had even really started. What he really wanted to tell her was that he thought she was the bravest person he’d ever met. If he had been in her situation, having to face the living hell she went through some days, he would have given up a long time ago. He wouldn’t have stayed kind-hearted and honest. He would have relished the wind on his face as he hurled toward rock bottom at full force. He wouldn’t have stopped himself from spinning out of control. But she did. She fought it every moment some days, though she looked so fragile that it could swallow her. And he watched her fight it with awe.
But he didn’t tell her that. He knew she wouldn’t let him. So instead, he simply made her tea.
He tugged on his jacket, picked up the mug and the sandwich he’d prepared distractedly in the last few minutes, and made his way down the hall toward the patio door, making enough noise so as not to surprise her. Once he nudged it open with a socked foot, he tried to ignore the cold air hitting his face and hands. He sat down beside her and held out the mug. She slowly looked at him with tired eyes, noted the tea he held, and met his gaze quizzically. She looked so sad to him.
He carefully tucked away the concern on his face with a dismissive roll of his eyes. “Okay,” he made a playful show of it, “so I put a little more than a teaspoon of sugar inside. How can you even tell?!”
His heart jumped into his throat when he saw her crack a weak grin. She hadn’t even asked him for tea, but he figured that that’s what she would have done for him if the situation were reversed…and if he even drank tea. He felt quite proud of himself when she reached out with both hands and took the warm mug in a silent thank you.
“You’re supposed to drink it and then tell me everything,” he continued, feeling brave with his words. “It says so on the box.”
“Is that right,” she replied in a soft, almost frail voice, but it was a quip nonetheless.
Before he could rejoice in the fact that she was talking, he saw her eyes fill with tears again, and her lips pressed shut as she took a panicky kind of breath through her nose, like she was trying to regain her balance after a moment of dizzying weakness. He forced his gaze down to the grass after that, angry at himself that he’d brought back her pain.
They were quiet for a little while before he heard her speak again, and her words cut through him like shards of broken glass. “I feel like I’m messing everything up,” she said meekly to the cold, still air. She sighed quietly after she spoke, like confessing those words out loud made them even heavier to hold.
He opened his mouth to reply, and his lips stayed parted as he watched her place the mug carefully between them before standing up and disappearing into the house with tear-stained cheeks. He stayed outside for a while, seated by the now cold cup of tea and uneaten sandwich. He stared into the darkened landscape as tears gathered behind his own eyes.
He hated watching helplessly as she struggled.
She folded her arms across her chest as she walked down a quiet street. Quiet streets meant not as many passersby to avoid. The wind had picked up, but she didn’t mind. It stung her eyes and gave an easier excuse for the tears not leaving them. Her muscles hurt, but she didn’t care. She deserved the pain from the harsh cold air in her lungs, nipping at her skin, and wearing her down. She focused on the sound of her footsteps as she trudged on, one street after another.
She felt empty, yet so overloaded with thoughts. The combination sent her head spinning.
Ben was sweet to worry about her, to call and check in, to collect her from the park earlier. She was undeserving of his kindness. She knew that he had plans tonight, and had a feeling that if she’d have stayed home, he would have loitered outside of her bedroom, checking in on her rather than being the nervous-excited mess he usually was before a promising date. Outside on the steps, she saw him begin to reach out and place a reassuring hand on her knee, as anyone would do when they were beside themselves trying to comfort someone. But she couldn’t let him comfort her. That had been the reason she’d left so abruptly. She’d been too tired to move, but she’d had to escape, because if he’d have placed his hand on her knee, it would have unraveled everything she’d managed to hold onto. It would have unraveled her completely.
She pressed her hand against her gut, fighting a prickling wave of nausea, very much aware of the fact that she didn’t have anything left to throw up anymore. The pain trickled into her eyes, to her sinuses, to her ears, burning at the base of her throat; unwilling to be ignored. She stuffed her hands into her pockets again and welcomed the wind trying to blow through her as she kept walking, not interested in where she ended up, just as long as she didn’t stop.
She’d hoped her thoughts would tire at some point, and she could just leave them behind, desert them on some street corner forever. They mocked her for her naïve perception of the situation, and as punishment, released a hot line of tears from her eyes, turning the skin beneath them to a soft pink when it mixed with the cold winter air. They further tortured her with conjured memories of her parents.
She drew in a full breath and let them.
On her last day in rehab, her parents had come once again to collect her. She was mildly surprised to see them, as her father had spent every one of their visits to the clinic yelling at her for dragging them through that mess again. She forced a small smile onto her lips when she saw them, and clutched her backpack in her hands as they finished the final paperwork for her release. She readied herself for the journey home; for the yelling, and the anger, and the sheer disappointment that her existence seemed to cause for her parents. She looked at her father’s face as he signed the last page, noting the calmness in his features. She wondered if he’d even look at her this time.
She swallowed thickly when he passed the clipboard back to the nurse behind the desk and turned to face her. His shoulders rolled back and straightened out, and hers did too, to show him that she was being respectful. Her gaze fell from his unreadable eyes to the paper in his extended hand. ‘To your new beginning,’ he said to her with a tight, plastered smile and distant gaze. ‘Since our home doesn’t seem to suit you, perhaps a change of scenery is in order,’ he continued in that same stony calmness. She saw her mother’s arm wrap around his, just above the elbow, in a silent motion that suggested he be kinder to their only child.
In that moment, standing in that sterile lobby in front of her parents, looking at the ticket in her father’s hand, she began to withdraw from the world, tucking herself away until she could seal off the door to her heart against a military attack. The one-way trip to Germany gave her just enough time to lock down every thought and feeling she had to its rightful place.
Somewhere around there, the old, familiar ghosts that had been briefly overshadowed by the drugs began to emerge from the back of her mind, where they had lived and grown quietly for years. Every once in a while they visited, reminding her of her faults, failures, and shortcomings, promising her that she wasn’t good enough, before retreating back to their dark corner to watch her struggle. When they emerged this time, they were much darker than she had remembered them being, and much harder to ignore.
They stroked her cheek as she tried not to cry, and promised her that they would see her through. She didn’t mind the malice in their invisible motions, or the sting of their touch. She didn’t fight them. She stopped resisting and succumbed with grace.
She’d had so many fresh starts, so many new cities and new schools that it all happened effortlessly, at least on the outside. She was polite, woke up on time, smiled and laughed; pretended. People took to her as they had throughout her whole life, and casual friends fell into step with her in the hallways at school in no time.
While her peers talked about menial events like volleyball tryouts and the upcoming test in Chemistry, she quietly daydreamed about the dark, secret things one wasn’t supposed to indulge in. Thoughts danced around in her mind, guiding her, coaxing her, pulling her into a dark, maze-like trap, further and further until she didn’t notice there was no longer an exit to be found.
She saw the looks her classmates shot her. She knew what they thought of her; rude, pretty, confident. Untouchable. The truth was that she was envious of them. They were all so very normal, wrapped up in their silly high school dramas. She played along with them, because as long as she pretended, no one would suspect that she had moments where she lost hope; in herself, in the world, in ever feeling normal again, and then that wretched feeling would go away, like some glimpse of what was waiting for her as she continued her descent. Pretending allowed her to feel like she was close to normal for a little while each day. Behind all of that pretending though, she wasn’t nearly as untouchable as they all thought. Something had broken inside of her, and pushed past the delicate porcelain enclosure that had trapped it for so long. A seemingly harmless seed rooted itself quietly in her mind, and as soon as it did, it grew and expanded, whispering the most unmerciful words of self-doubt that spread inside her body like wildfire. Those thoughts nipped at her, and dragged her down, and she let them.
During school hours, she felt their presence, in step with her as she laughed along to some meaningless conversation. Her laughter was forced, but her classmates didn’t notice. She’d always been very good at pretending. But when she found herself alone, her ability to pretend vanished. Beneath the hot stream of water in the shower, she felt a hand around her throat, not squeezing, but just there, reminding her of how little control she had as unshakably lonely thoughts seeped through her mind. At nights, they circled her small frame at dizzying speeds, until finally settling like a heavy, invisible weight across her stomach, strapping her to the bed, making it a little harder to escape each time.
The drugs had been nothing compared to this.
While she managed to pretend at school, and pretend on the phone, and pretend with the strangers she met, it made her relentlessly empty and tired. She’d never become the child her parents had wanted. She didn’t know how to be that child, so what chance did she have at becoming that adult? She wanted them to be proud of her; she wanted to be good enough. The day she realized that she’d never meet their expectations was the day she began to believe the overpowering ghosts that whispered poisonous words in her ear all day.
Any good thoughts she’d managed to hold onto were quietly succeeded, slowly but surely ensuring no way out of the sadness that overtook her when she was alone. Her insecurities had seeped so far into her muscles and bones and organs by the time a new day began, that it surprised her how masterfully she was able to compose herself for school. If only her classmates knew that it was all a carefully executed act. What she wanted more than anything some days was to quite simply and completely escape it all, to escape herself.
Throughout her days, she imagined possible news reports of her death, altering them whenever a new thought formed in her mind. High school student dies in car accident. Former child star died tragically on Thursday morning…Pipe bursts in Cologne high school, six students injured, one dead…Home robbery turned homicide, Police investigate the tragic death of a young girl. Then there were the quieter scenarios; cardiac arrest - a tragic, rare, yet not unheard-of cause of death at her age, lightning strike, rare form of cancer (there was a biology test only a few days away, and everyone was cramming for it). It wasn’t that she wanted to die. She didn’t. She just didn’t want to exist sometimes. It terrified her that she wouldn’t be able to explain the intrinsic difference between the two to someone else. It was just easier to think about a world where she wasn’t around to feel it all so much.
She tried to imagine her parents’ reactions to the news. Her mother would cry, she’d decided. Her father would probably continue to throw himself into his work. She wasn’t planning on causing that unending pain to her parents, but dancing around the fire kept her from walking right into it. She just wanted it all to be quiet for a little while. So she let herself wonder who would miss her, who would still think about her five years later. The thoughts swirled in her mind as life continued around her for everyone else.
No one knew the things that went through her head when she was encased in sadness. She never wrote about them, or shared her dark daydreams with anyone. After all, one wasn’t supposed to think about those things.
A little over a month after she’d been moved to Cologne, and four successfully-passed drug tests later, her mother began calling her regularly every few days. It took her another week to answer those calls. They avoided most subjects with any relevance to them, but she had to admit that hearing her mother’s voice made her feel a little closer to herself. She continued to daydream quietly about a reality in which she didn’t exist, which was a strange way to pass the time, but no one was making her stop, so she didn’t.
She indulged.
Thoughts of Emma had drifted around in her mind from the first few days at the new school. They were fine as long as they weren’t interfering with the time she’d set aside for her inner war with herself. She’d fought it for a while, but thinking of Emma was a little like finding fresh air when the skies were thick with smog; it was refreshing in a way that she hadn’t thought was possible.
So she spent more and more time thinking about her; about her laugh, and the way her nose scrunched up when she couldn’t hold in that wide grin of hers anymore, about how easy it was to make her blush, and how absolutely crazy she drove her. She thought about how happy Emma let herself be, and what joy she found in little things that Jenny also used to love. They were rare qualities in a person. Jenny was sure she’d never met anyone like her before.
It happened in a slow, quiet way. Painless. One night, when she couldn’t fall asleep after some silly, pointless argument or another with the girl who danced in her thoughts, Jenny realized that it had been days, whole days since she’d thought about not existing. There was no grand party in celebration of that fact, only a small smile that curved her lips at making it out from that darkened, shifting maze in her mind. And Emma had pulled her out without even knowing it. And that…that had taken a special kind of magic.
The next day, she kissed Emma for the very first time.
It was her own version of thank you.
She came to a stop and lifted her gaze from the ground. She couldn’t say she was surprised at where she’d ended up. It seemed that her legs, paired with the steady beat in her chest, kept guiding her to Emma, whether she’d started out that way or not. She slid her hands into her pockets and worried her lower lip as she looked up at the house. As she released the heavy air in her lungs, she realized that she’d reached the place she hadn’t known she was looking for. She longed to see Emma, suddenly unsure what had taken her so much time to see that. She quietly cleared her throat as she walked up to the door, feeling a burst of nervous energy in her veins.
When the door pulled open, the knots in her stomach tightened painfully. She fleetingly wondered if she’d ever be able to untangle them. Her heart raced as she forced herself to hold Emma’s gaze, even though she felt a desperate need to cower away.
“Hey,” Emma greeted her in a soft, warm voice. She leaned a little against the door and smiled, and Jenny couldn’t mistake how happy those eyes were to see her.
“Emma, who is it?” a familiar voice called from inside, and Jenny’s heart spun into overdrive as her brain caught up. It was Tuesday night. Emma was having an evening at home with her sisters. Jenny shut her eyes for a moment as she chided herself for her own stupidity, because the fog in her head had quite suddenly decided to remind her that Emma had told her about tonight at least twice. In the span of one single second, she felt so small and stupid for forgetting. A wave of dizziness passed through her that had her shivering again. Her hands fidgeted uncomfortably. She wished she hadn’t come.
Emma didn’t look at all phased by the people inside requesting her attention. She took a moment to soak in the girl standing at her doorstep. Jenny did look down then, because she knew exactly what Emma saw. She looked tired and broken, and the red rim of her eyelids looked like a permanent fixture.
“I’m sorry, I forgot,” she heard herself say as she pressed her thumbnail into the soft, fleshy palm of her hand for showing up like this. Emma reached over and separated her hands so that she could hold onto one of them, and the warmth of her touch brought tears to Jenny’s eyes again. She’d been so sure that she’d run out of tears by now. “I’ll go, I didn’t mean to interrupt,” she continued, looking up to meet Emma’s eyes again, in some impossible attempt to show her that she wasn’t so fragile.
A single loud clap sounded from inside, over the whistle noises coming from the television, before someone called, “Double minor penalty!” at the screen in obvious excitement.
Emma momentarily looked over her shoulder and smiled. She shook her head as she pressed her thumb along the cold, smooth skin of Jenny’s wrist. She felt Jenny’s grip loosen to pull away, so she stepped a little further out of the house and squeezed the hand she was holding. “You aren’t interrupting,” she assured her with a soft smile that kept saying, ‘I’m happy to see you.’
Jenny looked up with raw vulnerability in her tired eyes. She liked the way Emma held her hand so contentedly.
“I mean it. Natalie’s been arguing and making up with her boyfriend on the phone for the last hour, and Jess is busy trying to learn the rules of hockey for some reason, don’t ask,” she explained in a playful voice as they stood there in the cold.
Jenny nodded with her gaze lowered. She continued streaming air in and out of her nose, catching that soft scent that was so completely Emma that was tucked inside the bitter air. That scent made her want to curl up in Emma’s arms forever. She knew she was safe in there.
“I’m serious, it’s weird. To the best of my knowledge, she doesn’t even like sports, and she wouldn’t even let me leave for a moment to get my phone from upstairs so I could at least write you about how horrible it is to sit there watching her watch sports, so I was trying to summon you using only mind power,” Emma continued in that happy voice of hers. “Apparently I’m more talented than we knew,” she offered with a playful shrug. She smiled after that, all open and honest and joyful. “I’m really glad you’re here,” she added, hardly above a whisper as she gently tugged on their clasped hands.
Jenny watched her, still unconvinced. If she’d had an ounce more energy, she would have made her excuses and walked away. She saw Emma’s eyes studying her quietly, and watched her smile soften, until it was that smile she only showed to Jenny, before her lips began to move again.
“Really, really glad,” she added sweetly. Jenny only bit down on her lip again as Emma led her into the warm house without argument.
“Oh, hey Jenny,” Jessica greeted her kindly as Emma closed the door behind them.
“Hi,” Jenny replied, and forced her lips up into a smile. She tried not to wince from the struggle. Everything felt like a struggle. She turned back to Emma as her elevated heart rate notified her that she was running out of air again.
“We’re going upstairs,” Emma announced to her sisters, glancing from Jessica on the couch to Natalie at the table with the phone glued to her ear.
“You’re leaving me here to learn the five-hundred different penalties all on my own?” Jessica whined playfully as they started climbing the stairs.
Jenny looked back to Emma, ready to tell her that she could leave, and Emma should spend time with her sisters like they planned, that this wasn’t any type of emergency situation. Emma only squeezed her hand and turned to her sister. “Absolutely,” she replied without missing a beat as she led Jenny upstairs.
Jessica huffed playfully. “Have fun,” she called after them in a singsong voice,
“You too,” Emma teasingly sang back.
She heard Emma shut the door behind them. She looked around the familiar room, noting that the lack of warmth at her side meant that Emma had stayed by the door, watching her in that delicate, careful way she did sometimes. With her back to Emma, she took a silent breath, trying to ward off the strange panic that had followed her into one of her favorite places on the planet. She suddenly, helplessly tried to avoid Emma’s soft, kind, loving gaze, and reached up self-consciously to touch her cheek, not realizing that she’d cried recently, but it had been getting difficult to keep track today. Finally she met Emma’s gaze, and saw those gentle, worried eyes try to gauge how long she’d been crying. I’m sorry, she wanted to say, to yell, to cry. She just stood there, silently falling apart, and rubbed the inside of her wrist anxiously.
She wasn’t even moving and she felt herself spinning out of control.
She wanted out of her own skin.
Emma took a step toward her, and Jenny sucked in a breath as she felt tears again, like they wouldn’t ever stop. She bit down hard on her lower lip, because she couldn’t put on a brave face, and it scared her how little control she had over herself.
Emma continued to move slowly in the small room, like one would do with a wounded, caged animal. She took Jenny’s hand in both of hers and turned it gently as she brought it up to her lips. She pressed a slow kiss to the pinkish-colored skin on the inside of her wrist. Jenny watched her with watery eyes. She sucked in another helpless breath as Emma sat her down on the bed, like Emma had known that her legs were moments away from giving out.
Once her body made contact with Emma’s bed, she found herself lying down, and curling her feet up to rest on her side like a small child. She shut her eyes and curled her body in further, feeling raw and exposed, frail and broken apart. She heard Emma put on some music to softly clear away sounds of the television downstairs, before the bed dipped at her side. She wanted Emma close, but she wasn’t sure. She wanted to be touched, and held, and soothed, but she didn’t think she could handle it. She wanted to talk, but she just couldn’t. She hoped Emma understood what she was asking for, because she sure as hell didn’t know.
Emma lay down beside her, and Jenny immediately curled closer. They moved together into a dearly missed and thoroughly familiar position, one that had been established a long time ago as one of quiet, where some semblance of peace could be found, away from the loud, dangerous, frightening world outside.
A while passed them in silence, Jenny wasn’t sure how long. Her tears came silently and then dried again. Emma’s soft touches never stopped, and Jenny was surprised that they hadn’t raised painful goose bumps on her frail skin, like when Ben had held her hand in the park hours earlier. She took comfort in the subtle, calming scent of fresh laundry mixed with Emma’s shampoo that wrapped her in warmth.
“I love you,” she said suddenly, and it was strange to hear her own voice so quiet and frail. She felt Emma move the hair from her face.
“I love you too,” Emma replied so calmly, like she wasn’t afraid of the fact that Jenny was internally spinning out of control in her arms, like she could be strong enough for both of them for a while.
She wanted to talk again, or hear Emma talk, but she was too tired, and too exhausted to ask. The sounds in the house drifted in and out between the music. She heard doors open and close, until it was only quiet for a long while. That was how she knew that it was late in the world they’d temporarily left behind.
At some point, Emma rose slowly from the bed. Jenny watched her pull some clothes from the closet. She watched her change silently into those clothes. She watched Emma place clothes at the end of the bed for her to change into as well, and then closed her eyes when Emma kissed her temple before quietly stepping out and shutting the bedroom door behind her.
She looked at the clothes folded beside her, unsure why she was hesitant. She hadn’t spent the night here in weeks. She didn’t want to be away from Emma. She didn’t want to move anymore, but still her stomach twisted uncomfortably as she looked at the pile. You’re being ridiculous, she finally told herself a minute later, and changed into the oversized t-shirt that smelled like Emma and fresh laundry. She settled back into her curled position on the bed after that, as the room didn’t spin quite so much when she was lying down.
When Emma returned, she clicked off the light, and Jenny was grateful for the darkness. She listened to Emma pull her bedroom window open a little for air, before she was climbing back in beside her, under the covers this time.
She reached for Emma as soft light came in from outside, resting a tentative hand on her waist. Slowly, she moved her hand up along the warm, thin fabric, as if rediscovering her. Emma lay quietly on her side and watched her explore. Jenny felt the waves of her ribs, protecting such an irreplaceable heart. She moved her touch over them again, before her hand settled between their bodies, nestled in warmth. She curled in slightly, and was proud of herself for not flinching when Emma’s arm wrapped calmly, lovingly, protectively over her.
With her eyes fully adjusted to the semi-darkness, she looked up to see Emma’s eyelids grow heavy, which only proved to emphasize the fact that she was as far away from sleep as could be. This had been the reason she’d stopped spending the nights here a few weeks ago, so as not to drive Emma crazy with her restlessness. She figured that if she couldn’t escape herself, then she should at least let Emma do so. She took in a readying breath, and apologized silently as she pulled the blanket off of her legs and sat up.
“Please don’t leave.”
Emma’s voice surprised her. “Em, I have to,” she began to say with her back to her, starting a conversation-turned-argument that neither of them wanted to have.
“No, you don’t,” Emma replied in a plea.
Jenny’s heart clenched painfully at the emotion screaming inside her quiet voice. She turned and looked at her apologetically, but Emma sat up and took gentle hold of her wrists before she could respond.
“I know it’s hard for you. I know. Just…just please don’t leave again,” Emma said in a watery breath.
Her hands went limp in Emma’s hold. Any words she could think to say back would only be like all the others she’d spoken. Inadequate. Everything about her these days felt inadequate. She looked up at those eyes again, wondering how many more times Emma would have to love her when she was broken. The blood rushed to her head, making her painfully and worryingly dizzy. She was moments away from crying again.
“Okay,” she breathed, and dutifully leaned back down on the soft surface.
She took shaky breaths against Emma’s shoulder for a few quiet minutes, and shut her eyes when Emma trailed barely-there kisses on her face and in her hair. Behind her eyelids, she saw her parents, like fragmented ghosts lying in wait to taunt her.
The last time they’d come to visit her, she’d seen the shadows in their eyes. They had seemed older, as though exhausted by life. When they’d met Emma for the first time, she didn’t interest them in the same way that ‘Mama, Papa, I’m better now, honestly, I’m doing good, I’m clean, and I’m going to stay clean, I promise,’ hadn’t moved them in the past. And that was her doing. She’d messed up the chance to see them happy for her.
As she lay there, dismantled of her defenses in Emma’s arms, her ending with her parents seemed like the most bittersweet gift. She’d been given the chance to see her parents smile, truly, honestly smile at her, and tell her they were proud of her, that they believed her, before they boarded that plane. In that moment, she felt lucky in a way. She’d gotten to say goodbye.
She slipped her hand into Emma’s and felt herself drift away, safely anchored to a world that still existed; a world where she, too, still existed.
Sleep took her within minutes.
She awoke uneasily. The amount of light in the room confirmed that it was morning, but she didn’t bother rising to check the time. She knew it was still early. Even with fading in and out, and the heaviness of waking up, she’d managed to sleep more that night than the past week combined. It was just the right kind of warm under Emma’s blanket, with the two of them there together. It seemed like the first time she’d felt warm in weeks. She looked up at Emma, still peacefully asleep, and thanked her silently for tethering her back to the ground, no matter how much she’d wanted to break free of it as of late.
Her mind was still a fog, her stomach was still in knots, and her lungs still craved air, but she also felt a small, significant wave of calmness that she hadn’t expected. Perhaps that was the reason her tired legs had brought her to Emma, in search of that familiar sensation. She released a full breath as she rested against Emma again. She’d never really doubted this fact, but instead kept proving to herself that she’d known it all along: Emma was a special kind of magic.
When Emma’s alarm sounded, Jenny watched her roll to her side to turn it off. She saw Emma press a hand to her eyes to adjust to the light in the room, and she watched in the moment when Emma realized that she was still beside her.
That was a good feeling.
“Hey,” Emma greeted her with soft eyes and a smile Jenny had missed seeing. “I’m glad you stayed,” she said in a voice thick with sleep.
“Me too,” she replied quietly. She reached up and stroked slow lines up and down Emma’s arm, like she used to do in the mornings to keep herself and Emma from falling back asleep, back before she was so broken. “What’s your day like today?” she asked, because she’d missed Emma’s morning voice, and while she knew it was only a matter of moments before the broken part of her rose to the surface again, she wanted Emma to see this part of her as well. It was almost like before.
Emma rubbed at her eyes to fight off sleep and snuggled into Jenny’s side a little. “It’s Wednesday,” she stated, more to herself, as she worked on waking up. “I switched shifts with the new girl, her cousin got married yesterday or something,” she began to explain in the midst of a yawn. “So it’s an easy day, mostly errands.” She sleepily looked over at Jenny and kissed her cheek. “I love you so very much,” she told her in a whisper, for no particular reason, which made it that much more significant. She then rolled onto her back and released another yawn into the room, and Jenny felt something at the base of her throat that was remotely reminiscent of a giggle trying to escape. She sobered immediately when Emma began to climb out of bed, taking the entirety of the warmth and safety and calmness that had blessed them throughout the night with her.
“Would it…” she said suddenly, only to trail off. Emma turned to her and patiently waited for her to continue. “Could I…come with you?”
Emma smiled slowly, and it was a beatific smile. “Of course,” she answered, careful not to overwhelm Jenny with happiness.
Jenny tucked her hair behind her ear in a bashful movement. “Do I have time to shower?”
Emma leaned over and kissed her on the corner of her lips. “Take your time,” she replied, before climbing out of bed.
to be continued…