Tegan knocks on the door to Sara's apartment. Although she has a key, Sara is very particular about knowing who is in her apartment and when they arrive. Tegan is accommodating and does her best not to upset her.
"Coming!" She hears her sister call from within the apartment.
Tegan counts to thirty in her head before she hears the locks being fiddled with. When Sara opens the door, she grins wide and pulls Tegan into a tight hug. Tegan returns the hug with just as much enthusiasm; she has missed her so much.
"I'm happy you're here," Sara sighs into her ear, it sounds like relief. Tegan knows that she isn't imagining it either.
"I'm happy to be here," Tegan returns pulling away from the hug so that she can look at Sara. Her fears are proven to be true with just a mere glance at Sara and Tegan's heart falls in her chest, she feels winded. "How have you been?"
There's a weight to the question that Sara obviously wants to avoid, her eyes dance to the floor. "I've been good," she lies and Tegan isn't in the mood to call her out on it. "I've been busy with work, you know?"
"Is that why you haven't called me?" Tegan says, attempting to jest but it comes out an accusation.
"I'm sorry I haven't called. You know I don't mean to-"
Tegan cuts her off mid apology, she feels like an ass. She knows why Sara hasn't called. "It's okay, Sara. I'm just messing with you. Is it okay if I bring my stuff in?" She motions to the large wheelie bag behind her, "It's been a long flight."
Sara nods with an understanding smile. "Of course, come in." She steps out of the way to let Tegan through. Tegan enters into the doorway with her bag and wipes both of her feet onto the welcome mat. She removes each of her shoes and places them into the designated chest to her left.
By now Sara is wandering her way into the kitchen and Tegan can't help but sigh as she watches Sara compulsively touch every piece of wood down the hall. She touches the doorframes and picture frames, running her fingers along them in a practiced manner that evokes a profound sense of loss in Tegan's heart. Tegan doesn't know why Sara can't just remove the picture frames from the passageway but she guesses it's just another thing Sara can't control.
"You can put your things in the spare room if you want," Sara calls to her.
Tegan does so and places her bag in its rightful place, exactly as Sara would want it. Tegan is the only guest Sara has had in her home in a long time and it's because Tegan listens to her. The disorder is an angry beast that demands so much of Sara's time that she can't really focus on having others around who don't understand.
The entire house is spotless. Faint scuff marks on the wood where Sara has run her hands many, many times are the only things that seem out of place in this beautiful home.
Tegan knows that Sara stresses without her. That the disorder is so much worse when she isn't around, and as she walks into the kitchen where Sara is she can see that this last separation has taken its toll on Sara's body.
"How are your hands?" Tegan asks, pulling up a stool to the bench. Sara is making stir-fry, chopping up the ingredients for their dinner.
"Tegan," Sara warns. It's a sensitive subject, but Tegan doesn't care. She looks at Sara's hands as she skillfully cuts the vegetables; they had to be hurting. Thin bandages that have been haphazardly put on are wrapped around each of Sara's palms. Thinner Band-Aids are snuggly fitted to each of her fingers so that she still has mobility; the skin that is visible between the cracks, from what Tegan can make out is red and raw. She hates to see Sara in pain because she feels it too, maybe not physically but certainly emotionally and spiritually.
"Here, let me," Tegan gets up to assist Sara but knows she's made a mistake when Sara forces down the knife.
"I don't need your help!" The outburst isn't really unexpected but it still hurts, Tegan takes a wounded step back.
Sara doesn't like it when people acknowledge her discomfort. She likes to pretend that she has a handle on the disorder when it's obvious to Tegan that the opposite is true.
"Okay," Tegan puts her palms up in a 'I'm backing off gesture' and returns to her seat.
"Sorry, I just-"
"I know," Tegan says.
The silence that encompasses them is tense; Tegan is already screwing up this visit.
"So what have you been working on?" She turns the conversation to a lighter one. Sara comes to life then, grinning about the new project she's been working on and Tegan feels like she can breathe for the first time since entering Sara's home.
X
When they've finished eating, Tegan offers to do the dishes but Sara turns her down. It's so hard to help someone when they won't let you.
"It's fine, I've got it," Sara smiles. "Make yourself comfy on the couch, I can bring you a beer?"
Tegan doesn't want Sara to wait on her but if it makes Sara feel in control then of course she will. "That'd be great, thanks."
She watches Sara carry their dishes, one hand balancing the plates while the other finds its ritual in touching the coffee table, the wooden handle on the recliner, the wooden floorboards, she moves around with practiced fluid movement. It breaks Tegan's heart, she wants to cry but she can't.
Sara blushes; Tegan can see that she's embarrassed. This is why no one else is allowed here, because they wouldn't understand. Tegan isn't even sure she fully understands it herself but the last thing she would do is judge Sara. She just smiles and lets Sara do her thing; she touches the doorknob on the coat closet too before rounding the corner to the kitchen.
When she's out of sight Tegan exhales. Her body deflates and suddenly the room feels so much smaller, like she and Sara are both being compressed and squashed into this space with the disorder taking up all the room. It sounds silly when she thinks of it like that but on some level its true. There is not enough room in Sara's life for Tegan, no matter how much Tegan wishes there were and there is not enough space in this house for all three. That's why Tegan leaves, she knows it's awful of her but sometimes she can't take it. It hurts to see someone she loves so much be consumed like this.
It's better on Sara if Tegan stays, she's more relaxed. Instead of turning the light switches on and off fifty times it can be brought down to twenty and instead of cleaning every single day, every second day is sufficient.
But it still controls her and it breaks Tegan. When Tegan is here for extended periods of time, she gets depressed. She cries most days and feels so conflicted within herself because Sara is the one thing that brings her the most happiness. Now though it's inexplicably tied with this deep sorrow that she doesn't know how to separate one from the other.
So yeah, she leaves. With a heavy heart and a wounded soul. But she only ever stays away long enough to lighten the load in her heart, then she returns, to willingly inflict those damages on herself again and again and again. If only for Sara. Sara suffers a far greater amount than she ever will.
X
The television is on but Tegan isn't watching it. She's listening to the rushing water in the kitchen. It's been over an hour and Sara hasn't returned with her beer.
"Sara?" She calls.
There's no response, she assumes Sara can't hear her over the water. She gets up, stretching her aching legs and meanders to the kitchen.
Sara's dirty bandages lay on the bench. Tegan picks them up. They're stained a deep clay, stale blood Tegan knows all too well. She places them in the rubbish beside the refrigerator.
The tap is still running, Tegan looks at Sara's back, hunched over the sink. The dishes are well and truly done and yet Sara keeps washing.
"Hey, Sara?" Tegan says gently, as not to startle her. Sara responds with a visible tremor and immediately Tegan wraps her up in a secure embrace, leaning her head on her shoulder from behind.
"Oh, Sara." Tegan whispers into her ear. She kisses Sara's neck. "Shhh."
Sara's face is stained with silent tears, they keep falling, in fact they get heavier when Tegan softly squeezes her middle.
Tegan doesn't want to look but she feels compelled to, probably the way Sara feels compelled to do the things she does.
Sara's hands are bleeding. The soft crimson ribbons of blood trickle down the drain and yet Sara keeps scrubbing the cracked skin. Frantic, she puts on more soap, scrubs harder.
"Hey… hey," Tegan murmurs. She grips Sara's wrists softly, feels Sara slump against her body, exhausted.
"It hurts," She cries. Her high-pitched whimpers cut into Tegan like nothing else can.
"I know," Tegan says, because what else is there to say?
"I want it to stop, Tegan. Please," she sniffs. "Please make it stop."
Tegan kisses her ear and let's her own tears join Sara's, she feels so utterly helpless, the feeling is one of endless distress.
"I can't make it stop." She wishes she had a superpower that could remove Sara's pain, she would do anything, literally anything for that power.
Sara sobs again and it shakes the both of them. Tegan makes a decision. "I can't make it stop, but I promise I'm going to be here with you. I'm not going to leave you again."
She takes Sara's palms softly into one of her own while her right hand reaches for the faucet and slowly, cautiously she turns it off. Sara doesn't stop her.
"C'mon, let's wrap these up and get some sleep."