x
Dysrhythmia
Would you meet me in the middle;
Could we both stop keeping score?
There's a battle I must fight alone;
It's you I'm fighting for.
If I call off the battalion,
Break my walls down stone by stone,
Tear down my defenses,
I can build your heart a home.
And if I did,
Would you come home?
- Tyler Blackburn
Aubrey wakes up warm and comfortable – and, in that moment, she realizes she must be dead. It's the only explanation for how nothing hurts anymore and why it feels like she's floating. She's resting in the clouds. Her fears about there being nothing, about consciousness just disintegrating along with her body, had been unfounded. Wherever she is, she's somewhere, and nothing can hurt her. That's enough to make it not so bad. In fact, it's better than the constant state of pain she's been existing in while alive. This warm, comfortable, floating feeling is relief. She exhales a long sigh and feels it to its fullest extent. It's the only thing that seems to be able to matter. Just relief.
"Aubrey? How are you here?"
Light fills the room. Blinding white light. It's everywhere when Aubrey opens her eyes – like even the air molecules themselves are glowing. "Chloe?" She fades in as Aubrey's vision adjusts – standing several feet away, wide-eyed and bewildered. "Are we dead?" She looks down at herself, taking the white nightgown she's wearing, then back up at Chloe's identical attire. They have to be dead.
Chloe doesn't answer. She approaches slowly, one hand stretched out in front of her, like she's approaching a wild animal.
"If so, I like it here," Aubrey says, trying to get a different response out of her. It's nothing more than bright, empty space, but she could stay forever. The light radiates some sort of calm, different from anything she's ever experienced. "I've never felt like this before."
Chloe's expression softens and she lowers her hand.
Aubrey clasps her hands together in front of her with a soft smile. "This is real, right?"
"It's real." Chloe reaches out and takes both her hands. "Come on."
"Where are we going?" Aubrey asks and trails along after her.
They move a few feet and then Chloe stops. "Nowhere." She pulls Aubrey in close by the hands then wraps her arms around her waist, pressing their bodies together. "Let's just stay like this for awhile."
"Okay." She slides her arms around Chloe's neck and closes her eyes as they sway back and forth to a silent song. "I always thought if there was a heaven, it would have music."
"We can make some," Chloe offers, "I mean, that's kind of our thing."
"What song?" Aubrey pulls back to look into her eyes – eyes she never thought she'd see open again. Bluer than the ocean on a sunny day. She lifts one of her hands to rest gently on Chloe's cheek.
Chloe responds with a smirk that can only mean trouble. "How about…Bruno Mars, Just The Way You Are?"
"Shut up," Aubrey deadpans and lets her hand fall back down Chloe's shoulder blade. Moment ruined.
Her response sends Chloe into a fit of giggles. She slides one hand into Aubrey's hair and presses her face into Aubrey's cheek. "Sorry. It was too easy."
"It was the first song that came to mind, okay?"
"Mhm."
"It was."
"Well, it was the first song that just came to mind for me too."
Aubrey rolls her eyes. "Sure it was."
"It wasn't even the song; it was just the way you said it."
The way Aubrey said it? "Like what – a normal person?"
Chloe touches her lips against Aubrey's cheek in a feathery kiss. "Aubrey?" she whispers into her ear as she tucks her hair behind it.
"Yeah?"
"You have to go."
"Where?" Aubrey pulls back. She knows where the very second she sees the sympathy in Chloe's expression. "No. No, I'm -I'm dead and this is real. You said so."
"I don't know how you got here, but I know you can't stay." Chloe cups her face, "You're going to be okay."
"Come back with me."
Chloe nods. "I'll come back to you."
"When?"
Her eyes dart off to the side. "I don't know."
"Then I'm staying," Aubrey decides then continues speaking all in one breath, "….please? I can't go back. My whole body feels like it's caving in on itself – and I have felt anything except terror in weeks, Chloe, until now. And Beca keeps demanding I fight, like surviving isn't enough when I can feel myself dying. And-"
"Beca's just scared. She's used to you being bullet proof; she doesn't know how to handle this."
"Did you just make a pun about me being shot?" Chloe is lucky that all Aubrey can feel is euphoria right now.
"Oops." Chloe cringes.
"I cannot go back. I won't. Not without you. We're supposed to get married and have kids and live some impossible happily ever after life. I rescued your damn cat."
"It'll happen. I promise." Chloe rises on her toes enough that she can press their foreheads together. "I've wanted to marry you since junior year. I was going to ask you after the ICCAs. Look in my jewelry box."
"This isn't real, is it?" Aubrey starts to realize – but it feels so real. She can touch her and smell her, and it's nothing like being in a dream.
"If you wanna have sex with Howie to pass the time-"
"Chloe."
Chloe's tone changes to serious again. "Wait for me."
"I couldn't move on if I tried. I love you."
"I love you, too." Chloe leans in until their lips are almost touching. "This is only going to hurt for a second."
Aubrey is about to respond that it's going to hurt until the moment they're together again, but her words are cut off by Chloe pulling her into a tender kiss. Her hand creeps up Aubrey's chest until it's directly over her heart – and Aubrey understands what she meant by 'hurt' when her whole body is electrocuted.
xxxxx
'Mildly uncomfortable' is how Aubrey wakes up a second time – and god is it still amazing to feel that way. It feels less like she was hit by a moving tractor trailer and more like she tripped over a sidewalk crack and fell into a stationary one. She draws in a deep breath through her mouth then slowly exhales without pain tearing through her chest. Whatever drugs she's on, they're the good ones – and quite possibly hallucinogens. She lays there, still, breathing slowly, trying to understand what just happened – and why it feels more like a memory than it does a dream. It was so real. It had to be real. She had to have died – but then how would Chloe be there unless she was dead too? And if Chloe is dead, that would mean she definitely isn't coming back. But she can still feel Chloe's hand in hers and the shock that tore the two of them apart again – like, like she was being zapped back to life with a defibrillator.
"Beca?" she croaks and squints open her eyes.
"Hey." It's Julia who answers her. "How are you feeling, Baby?"
Aubrey tilts her head to the side her voice is coming from. It doesn't matter how many times she blinks her vision remains blurry and unfocused, and all she can really see is the outline of her in the dimly lit room. "Did I die?"
"What? No. No, you didn't die."
No, that doesn't make any sense. "Did they have to defibrillate my heart?"
Julia sniffs. "No. You were bleeding into your stomach; they put you under with anesthesia and surgically fixed it. You didn't die on the table."
Aubrey lifts her hand to feel her chest. It feels normal – although she's not really sure what it would feel like if they had to zap her heart. "I saw Chloe. Is she okay?"
"There's no new update on Chloe. You're on some pretty strong drugs right now, Aubrey." Julia moves to sit next to her on the bed. "Just relax."
Chloe was there; the more she thinks about it, the more certain she feels, even if it's illogical. Aubrey could feel her. She bends and flexes the fingers on her casted hand. They're still numb, but the sensation of Chloe's hand is somehow there. She slides her other hand from her chest up toward her face with a goal of draping her arm over her eyes but stops when her fingers find some sort of tube leading into her nose. "What is that?"
"That is going to be your main source of food and water for at least a couple of days. You need it, so don't even try fighting." Julia moves her hand away from it.
"Where's Beca?"
"She's fast sleep," Julia answers, "Which is exactly where you should be too."
Aubrey turns her head to use Julia's leg as another pillow. Trying to turn the rest of her body to get comfortable proves to be more difficult when a tube between her legs tugs in a place where tubes should not be inserted into one's body. "Fuck."
"You okay?" Julia asks with a sympathetic laugh.
"No," Aubrey growls.
"I'm sorry." She strokes the space between Aubrey's eyebrows with her thumb. "It's going to be an uncomfortable next couple of days – but at least you're going to feel better when it's over."
"I'm not leaving this bed for anything, am I?"
"Nope," Julia confirms, "But, if it makes you feel any better, the bed is on wheels. You can still go see Chloe."
It would be wrong to say it doesn't, but, "It doesn't."
xxxxx
Her experience with Chloe should fade like a dream, but that doesn't happen, and it becomes entirely uncomfortable to think about – yet, she can't seem to stop. It wasn't real; she knows that much. But it was as vivid as the present moment.
"Dude, earth to Aubrey Posen." Beca snaps her fingers in front of Aubrey's face. "Can you stop disappearing for five seconds? I feel like I'm having a conversation with a goldfish."
"Sorry. What did you say?"
"I said your song is playing."
Aubrey stops to listen then shoots Beca a glare when she hears Bruno Mars. "I hate you."
Beca arches a brow. "Is that supposed to be new information?"
"And I regret giving you that radio. Stop." She smacks Beca's hand away when she tries to color a cat in the coloring book they're working on blue. It has to be a coincidence that that song is playing after just talking about with Chloe in her head. It plays on the radio all the time, right? She's not losing her mind.
Beca makes a mocking expression as she trades the blue crayon for gray. "I was hoping the drugs would turn you into Picasso or something."
"They're painkillers. Pablo Picasso took Opium."
"Conrad might have some of that though."
Aubrey slaps the gray crayon right out of her hand.
Beca blinks and looks at her empty hand. "I take it you're feeling better."
"A lot," Aubrey admits. So much fucking better.
"Good." Beca picks her crayon back up. "Don't ever fucking do that again." Before Aubrey can respond, she adds, "What were you like in Kindergarten? Were you at all nicer to your crayon-wielding friends back then?"
"Keep pointing that crayon at me and you'll find out," Aubrey warns her.
Beca looks down and goes back to coloring her cat. "You know, I really don't think you'd do anything. You strike me as the kind of person who can't stand broken crayons."
"That doesn't stop me from snapping you in half."
"You have literally no working body parts right now. You can't even get out of bed."
"I can," Aubrey mumbles, coloring a flower.
"But you're not going to," Beca replies and glances up at her, "Right?"
Aubrey clenches her jaw and switches her red crayon for purple.
"Right?" Beca repeats.
"Mhm."
"I swear to god, Aubrey, if you leave this bed, I will physically return you to it no matter what it takes."
"Do you know how many things are attaching to this bed?" Aubrey asks, "I'm not going anywhere."
"I know one of those things is tying you to it by the vagina," Beca states way too boldly.
Aubrey places her crayon on the table then plucks Beca's crayon from her hand and snaps it in half with just her thumb and her palm. She drops the two halves in front of her. "That's going to be you if you bring that up again. And, so you know, there are other ways to relieve myself and they took that out once they were sure I was going to remain conscious."
"Dude, how are you pooping?" Beca dares to ask.
If Aubrey's mind wasn't scarred by even just the very thought of murder, that question would be Beca's last words. She picks up the sharp end of the broken crayon and drives it directly toward her face, leaving being stabbed or not up to Beca's reflexes. Beca falls ungracefully off the bed in an effort to save herself, and Aubrey decides that's even more satisfying than jabbing her. "I don't do that," she answers calmly and colors the remainder of the cat.
Beca bursts out laughing. "You should see how red your face is right now. You know, I'm pretty sure I heard you burp last night – are you going to deny that too?"
"You should see how stupid you look laying on the floor, and I'm pretty sure I was puking blood when that happened," Aubrey retorts. She pushes Beca's foot away from her when Beca props her legs up against the bed.
"Help me up?" Beca reaches out her hand.
Aubrey grabs her by the ankle instead and pushes her leg until Beca shrieks as both of her knees end up next to her ears. Even more satisfied, she closes the coloring book and begins boxing up the crayons.
"Beca, what are you doing?" Julia asks as she walks in the room.
Beca rolls herself onto her side then uses a nearby chair to push herself up, forcefully blowing her hair away from her face. "I'm practicing my Aubrey Avoidance Maneuvers." She puts on a tight smile and nods at the ground when a crayon hits her in the head. "They're still a work in progress."
"Mom?" Aubrey looks between her and the crayon now on the floor.
"Why would you give that back to her?" Beca asks as Julia hands her the crayon.
"Why wouldn't I?" Julia asks.
Aubrey innocently boxes up the crayon.
"Because she's the MacGyver of violence," Beca responds.
"Why does everyone tell me I'm MacGyver?" Aubrey places the crayon box on top the coloring book.
"You nearly gave me a lobotomy with a Crayola crayon," Beca answers.
"It was the only thing available to me."
"We're in a hospital. I'm sure you could have gotten your hands on something less shaming to be lobotomized with."
"You're giving her ideas, Beca," Julia points out.
Aubrey shakes her head. "No, now I'm determined to use the crayons. Any color preference? I was thinking pink..."
"I'm just going to take these." Beca picks up the crayon box and coloring book and moves them across the room out of Aubrey's reach. "If you ever try to lobotomize me with a pink crayon, you better hope it works."
"How are you feeling, Aubrey?" Julia asks.
"Good," Aubrey answers, "With just the press of a button, I can inject pain medication into myself that makes my body feel like it's existing on another plane."
"That's a step up, I think…?"
"Mhm."
"You wanna try eating something?"
Vomiting is starting to become a trauma in and of itself, and Aubrey rubs the back of her neck as she tries to block out thoughts of it happening again. "Maybe tomorrow."
"No rush." Julia kisses the top of her head. "We'll just keep feeding you like you're a baby bird."
Beca snickers at her words.
"Keep laughing, Beca. Eventually I'm going to be able to leave this bed, and your Aubrey Avoidance Maneuvers are looking pretty novice." Aubrey makes a face of secondhand embarrassment as Beca holds her hands up in karate pose then looks down and tries to figure out how to position her feet.
"Jokes aside," Beca says, straightening herself out when that doesn't work out for her, "I was actually hoping I could have a few more minutes alone with Aubrey."
Aubrey tilts her head curiously.
"I wanted to talk about something in private," Beca explains.
"Of course. I'm actually going to run back to the apartment for a little while to shower and get some sleep. Do you guys need anything?" Julia asks.
"I don't think so," Aubrey answers. She already awoke for a second time to find the radio and Chloe's laptop along with a basic bag of her belongings were in the room. She has half the mind to ask her to go retrieve Chloe's jewelry box, but then she decides against it.
"Alright. Here's my phone." Julia places it on the table. "Text Dad if you need anything. I love you."
"I love you, too." The all too familiar anxiety stemming from people she cares about being out of her sight returns as soon as Aubrey watches her turn around to go. She stares directly to her until she's gone then shifts her gaze to Beca. "Look around, Beca - if this is another conversation about bodily functions, there's no one here to protect you."
Beca swallows air then burps in response.
"You disgust me."
"Should I do it again?" Beca asks, "I can do it louder – and longer. I won like all the contests in middle school."
"I didn't know you had accomplishments. That's wonderful. Did they color you a certificate?"
"Shut up." Beca sits down on the edge of the bed, next to Aubrey's legs, and rests her arms on the table. "So, I just wanted to tell you" – she taps her fingernails against the wood – "that I'm not mad at you anymore."
Aubrey's lips curve into a lopsided frown. "I didn't even know you were mad at me – aside from the usual constant rage we feel toward each other."
"That's what I'm talking about," Beca replies, "I was mad at you basically since I met you, and now I'm not anymore – and I just thought you should know."
"Why?"
"Why was I mad at you or why am I not anymore?" Beca inquires.
"Both."
"We both know we hate each other for the same reason," Beca replies like what she's talking about should be obvious, "We're both jealous of each other."
Aubrey quirks a brow at her assessment.
"I mean when it comes to Chloe."
Oh. Her own jealousy isn't exactly a topic she wants to discuss – or acknowledge.
"But I'm not going to feel that way anymore," Beca goes on, "If Chloe wakes up, I'm not going to get in the way. I don't want to turn into 'the other woman' – and if that means I have to be alone for the rest of my life, I'm okay with that."
"You're not going to be alone for the rest of your life, Beca. There are people out there other than Chloe."
"Because that went so well the first time."
"I know that it's terrible, what happened," Aubrey says, "And if you don't want to be with someone again, you shouldn't feel like you need to be in a relationship. But if you want to be in one once you start to move on, just try to think of it statistically – what are the chances that will ever happen again?"
"I try to think that way," Beca replies, "But then I think of the potential newspaper headlines like 'Woman murdered by new boyfriend after just barely escaping being killed by previous boyfriend'."
"So don't date any more men. Find a woman."
"That's even worse. 'Woman murdered by girlfriend after escaping being killed by boyfriend' sounds like some kind of Florida Man headline, and Chloe's parents are from Florida."
Aubrey can't help but breathe a silent laugh even though it's not entirely funny and Beca looks distressed. "Give me your engagement ring," she says and holds out her hand.
"What? Why?"
"Just give it to me," Aubrey demands.
Beca twists it off her finger and drops it in her hand then yanks her hand back like she's afraid Aubrey is going to electrocute her if they touch.
"I'm going to pawn it," Aubrey states.
"First of all, that's theft-"
"And then you're going to use the money to stay here, and we'll figure it out together. You're life isn't over, Beca. Just the part with Jesse is – and you said it yourself, you didn't love him."
"Yeah, well, that didn't make him any less of my best friend."
Aubrey nods in understanding. "I'm sorry."
Beca sighs and rubs her eyes then rests her arm on the table. "You can say it now; you were right. I went to see Chloe and it was the right thing to do."
"I'm not really in the gloating mood," Aubrey replies – at least not when it comes to Chloe anyway.
"There's one more thing," Beca adds.
Whatever that thing is, it doesn't seem like Beca really wants to say it. Aubrey reaches forward and takes her hand.
"You know, I never would have pegged you for the touchy-feely type," Beca comments.
"I live with Chloe," Aubrey reminds her, "It feels weird not having someone constantly in my space."
Beca arches her brows like she doesn't believe her, but doesn't say anything further. "You were right about nothing that happened making sense. I decided I'll join your investigation or whatever you're doing, but on one condition."
"I'm listening."
"I'm only doing this so you don't end up in the hospital again. So, if for some reason, things start to seem dangerous and I say stop, we stop – deal?"
Aubrey doesn't really want to end up like this again – attached to a bed, being fed through a tube in her nose. "Okay," she agrees, "Deal."
"So, what do we need to do?" Beca asks, "I take it you already have a plan?"
It would be an exaggeration to say she has a full plan. She doesn't even know exactly what she's looking for. But it might be easier to figure that out with the inclusion of someone else's perspective – and who better to work with than someone who is always looking at things from a completely different angle than she is (and who knows Jesse better than anyone). "No. But I know where we can start."