"I am a tall tree,
With roots like a newborn.
No wind is blowing,
But o'er I go..."
James Henry Jr.
Saturday, April 6th, Year 1
The hand is stretched out to her, but Dani can hardly make sense of it. It is as if reality is made of clouds and stardust, blurred and shaded. But there is nowhere else to turn, nowhere else to go. With the last bit of energy she has left, she reaches out and takes Shane's hand.
Immediately, as if punishing her for her abuse, her body gives out. Her knees buckle beneath her, legs plunging, slack and useless. She feels firm hands gripping her, pulling her upright, full against the side of a heated body, warmth in the freezing night. She can hear the distant muttering of a male voice, his voice. "What the fuck..."
"Sorry," she forces the words out through chattering teeth.
Her companion does not respond. His arm slides beneath her armpit and near her chest, shifting her slightly upright and pulling her into a standing position. Her legs fall limp, her boots dragging along the forest floor. Instantly, she can smell the scent of beer on him, heavy and overwhelming; perhaps he was at the saloon again, like the day she met him for the first time. Half hauling and half carrying her, Shane begins the trek to her farm, her estate, her home.
All she can feel is shame and embarrassment, anger and frustration. This is absolutely absurd. She would not have fallen if she had just been able to find the way back home. But she has failed again, lost control, failed. She would weep if she had the energy for it.
She does not believe that Shane would do her any harm, even if he is a stranger to her; clearly he wanted nothing to do with her, so she does not have any reason to suspect that he is any sort of threat. But what if he was someone different? What if someone else found her before he did? She would not even have the strength to wield her knife in self-defense. What if some wild animal had come upon her? Stupid, stupid, stupid. The emotions running high within her are almost enough to spring some life back into her bones, but they still fall short. Yielding herself against him, she is at the mercy of the man lugging her back home.
Thankfully, the hike to her property is not too far at all. It really is an organic extension of Cindersap, blending in seamlessly with its forested fields. In the dim light of night, she can just make out the empty frames of the old greenhouse, as well as the fragmented fences of her garden. Somehow, this stranger was able to find her home with no trouble at all; how is she even still alive at this point? It's an honest miracle that natural selection has not come for her yet.
Her companion, still silent, brings her to the porch of her farmhouse, and helps her into a sitting position of the front steps. Still feeling the static in her head like a television without a signal, she fumbles through her bag uselessly, trying to find the front key. When she finally feels the cold press of metal into her palm, she pulls it out, and tilts her head up to look at the man who helped her get home.
Shane is standing there, a hand rubbing the back of his neck, his head turned away from her. An awkward silence takes over, with Dani unsure of what she should say. How can she even explain this? To anyone, ever? Most of the knowledge that people have about eating disorders comes from hour-long specials on television, showing emaciated girls who only wish to be beautiful. The truth of the matter is far more difficult to describe to the unfamiliar. Dani has been suffering from this illness since she was twelve years old, and even now, she still cannot find the words to justify her behavior to others. It is like speaking a foreign language that seldom speak, with no clear translation to outsiders looking in.
Perhaps there are no words to say. None except for, "Thank you." So that is exactly what she tells him.
Shane finally looks down at her. He is maybe ten years older than her, give or take a few years; it's hard to determine his age, especially with how cloudy her mind is, the synapses in her brain sparking at lower intervals. Black hair, wavy and damp with sweat. Shade along his jaw that appeared to be five o'clock shadow. Looking away, Shane says to her in a brisk voice, "Take care." Turning back the way he came, she can see the slight wavering in his footwork, the influence of alcohol in each step. As he disappears into the darkness, she watches him pull out a can from his pocket, and she hears the faint crack of a seal popping open.
She waits until he is clear out of view before pulling herself on her knees to her front door. Coherent thought becomes even more of a blur with each physical action. Somehow, she makes it inside, feels the fabric of bed sheets below her palms, at the edges of her fingers, sacred touch. And the rest fades into the stars.
No sun rises to meet her in the morning. No rays of light shining through threadbare curtains, no sound of chattering birds flapping through the sky. The only noise to be heard is the gentle humming of drizzle against the ceiling, and her own breathing, soft sounds, steady.
The fall from last night can be felt in her body, perhaps all the way down to her bones. Pulling up the hem of her sweater that she had worn and ruined yesterday, she can glimpse the darkened blemishes on her skin through exhausted eyes, the bruises that are just starting to form in her flesh. She is fortunate that she didn't hit her head or something, or maybe she should have. With how she has been behaving, it is clear that she is seeking out that sort of drastic conclusion.
Something has shifted within her, though. It is another day, day six, but it is the first time since she has arrived in the valley that the day truly feels new.
Staring at the ceiling, lying still in bed with the quiet patter of raindrops above her, she finally finds the courage, true bravery, to admit the truth to herself. She has become so good at lying, she can even convince herself of her own falsehoods.
Dani hasn't seen the inside of a hospital room since the day she left inpatient. She had realized early on that she would not be the same girl when she walked out those wide automatic doors, but she still underestimated how different her world would be from that point onward. With her secret outed and eventually stolen from her, her parents finally sprang to action and prevention. There could not be a single shadow of doubt regarding her health now. Not after making such a scene. Of course, four years is a long time, and her parents could only devote so much effort to keeping her healthy. Dani had found small ways to revolt against their rules, but for the most part she followed their instructions. She had to make sure that when she towed the line, she wouldn't tip over and fall. The white walls of inpatient would be waiting for her once more.
Life was up and down from that point onward, as one might expect. She managed to graduate high school despite having to repeat the grade that she had been locked away in the hospital. Her appointments with Dr. Sokol somehow shifted from something she once dreaded to something she valued in more ways than one. Her father had gotten her a part-time job at JojaCo as a receptionist, and she was earning her own gold. But even with all of this evident progress, she still remained the same soul who departed Zuzu Central Hospital. You can forcibly stop the habits, but that is only half of recovery. And no one in her family could do anything about the thoughts in her head.
Everything had changed when she finally discovered the letter her grandfather had written to her on his deathbed, signed and sealed with his lawyer's authority, hidden away in her father's office. Through her uncles and aunt, her grandfather had many grandchildren, and yet the letter had been for her alone. The rights to the land he left behind in the distant countryside, a vast valley of faint prominence near the town of Grampleton. And with her recent adulthood in her hands, suddenly what her parents and doctor wanted no longer mattered. Her fate was finally in her own hands.
Dani had arrived in Stardew Valley with a plan. A vision of the future for herself; one that went far beyond growing vegetables in a little village in the remote countryside, perhaps making some friends along the way, perhaps finding a greater purpose in this journey of life. But she can only be herself, no matter where she goes; it does not matter if she's surrounded by the concrete and courtyards of the city, or by all of the fresh air and farming and forests and freedom that this valley could offer her. Most people desire change for themselves, they wish for their lives to be better, but Dani did not come here with that in mind. It doesn't matter how many times she tells herself otherwise. Actions can be very vocal. The writing is on the wall and she is pretending that she is unable to read it.
Maybe, for once, it is time to not do what she normally would have done. Perhaps it is time to try something new.
She has the will to stand up, but none of the energy to channel the thought into physical motion. She pulls herself to a sitting position first, feeling that static buzzing behind her eyes, and she waits, murmuring her mantra under her breath. It does not relent, even after minutes of patience that stretch on like lifetimes. Her grandfather's farmhouse is so small, so meager and cramped, and yet the kitchen seems as though it is miles and miles away. Could she make the journey, or will she just end up falling again?
Six days in, an illness she acquired almost her lifetime ago. It's just a simple walk to the cabinet, a couple of paces to her left. An endless odyssey.
No more contemplation. She will fall, or she will not. It is time to find out where the dice fall.
In a daze, she brings herself forth from her bedside, her fingers instantly clutching the wall. Planks of aged wood, rife with splinters, but she grasps at it all the same, just as she did when she clung to that tree the night prior. Resting her forehead against the wall, she utters a different sort of phrase than her usual one, not once rehearsed, raw words with promise, a pledge to herself. "No more. This is it. No more, no more, no more."
Inch by inch, her hands never leaving the surface of the cabin wall, she makes her way to the kitchen.
She arrives at her destination, her head in a haze of storm clouds, weak and languid. Clumsy fingers hook around the cabinet's handles, and she tugs them open, the contents glaring down at her as though they could understand her betrayal. A shaking hand reaches for the opened JojaBar, still wrapped neatly in its foil. Letting herself slide to the floor, she brings it to her mouth, chewing it slowly to ensure that she wouldn't just retch it up later. It's a strenuous endeavor, getting it all down despite her doubts running through her mind, but it needs to be done. No more. She balls up the wrapper in her fist, listening to the crinkling as she swallows the last bite of the protein bar.
But she does not stop there. Sliding herself forward and kneeling upwards, she yanks open the door to the refrigerator, the chill from within immediately raising goosebumps on her flesh. All that it contains is two unopened twelve-pack cases of JojaShakePlus, the fortified supplement drink that Dr. Sokol had recommended she add to her diet; three times daily, ingesting after meals to ensure maximum calorie intake for someone like her. Pressing her nails into the plastic, she rips the package open, and pulls out one of the containers. Letting the door close, she slumps next to the fridge, her back against one of the cabinets; nothing to do now except to pop the can open and get it down.
It's easier for her to drink her calories than it is to chew and swallow food. That was part of why Dr. Sokol had recommended this particular type of weight supplement. The hard part over, Dani gulps down the protein drink, hardly tasting it. She thinks she may have bought the chocolate kind, but she isn't sure; JojaBrand items tend to taste like bastardizations of whatever flavor they are going for, anyway, and it's even worse when it comes to a product like this. But that doesn't matter to her, not right now.
Maybe it really is time to try and heal; truly heal, not just her body but her mind. This is the first time she has lived outside of the city; when she left, she was seeking freedom, the autonomy to choose her own way, her own destruction. Even after being in recovery for several years, she still finds herself wishing to go back to the days where her very existence was but a mere flicker away from the end. She does not consider it a manner of self-harm at this point; it's a sense of purpose and a sense of self, her identity. But she has spent so many of her years embracing the wrong way. Perhaps it is time to decide the type of life she wants to live. Perhaps it is time to choose life itself.
After all, she can always change her mind.
Her drink finished, she presses the sides of the can until the plastic buckles in her grip. And then she sits there; for how long, she cannot say. But she is in no hurry. She gives her body the time to do its magic, processing the calories consumed into energy to burn. A Saturday ahead of her with nowhere to be, a fresh day, with a feeling burning within her that might even be hope.
When she finally brings herself to her feet, she finds that it is far easier to do now with something in her system. Since she is so good at convincing herself of her own bullshit, perhaps she could one day trick herself into finding this feeling to be as satisfying as the sensation of starvation. In time, though. She should not let her expectations get too high. Speaking of hopeful predictions, it's about time to check on her garden, and see if there are any signs of new growth.
Pressing open the door of the farmhouse, she discovers that it's hardly raining anymore. Just a heavy misting floating down from the sky, draping the wilderness around her in an ethereal curtain of fog. Silence surrounding her, though it is not suffocating or overwhelming. Stepping down from the porch, she paces to her little field, anticipation building within her.
Eager eyes scanning behind the collapsed fences, she sees the little mounds of dirt all evenly placed, right where she left them. It's only when her foot sinks into the damp soil at the edge of the garden that she realizes that she never bothered to put shoes on. Whoops. She must look ridiculous, but with calories in her body and optimism in her soul, she doesn't really care. The herb starters are covered in a coating of dew, but she cannot tell if they've grown any. She peers closer at the piles that signaled the seeds sowed beneath them, scanning desperately for any sign of life, and then, she sees it. A single stem, a fleck of pale green striking against dark brown, barely poking through the surface but unmistakably there, as though it is saying to her, this is the right way.
It is a stupid thing to shed tears over, but she feels them building in her eyes all the same. Perhaps it is the sign she is looking for. Or maybe it is just a parsnip sprout pushing its way from the earth, because she planted them here and that is what happens when seeds are buried beneath soil and are given water and sunlight. Does it really matter what it means, though? Because she's crying regardless, hot tears rolling down her cheeks, contrasting the coolness of the mist that drifts down from above. Back when she lived with her parents, Sunday was the day of worship, but this particular Saturday feels more holy than any morning she has ever spent within a church's confines.
Wiping her eyes and feeling admittedly a little silly, she returns to the warmth of her farmhouse, letting the earth run away from her in shower water, and spending a bit of time resting in bed, the inspiration within her growing brighter by the hour. She pages through the two books she brought with her, reading the words with more intrigue than she had felt previously. One of them is a beginner's guide to farming produce straight from the home garden, with glowing testimonials from established agriculturalists and botanists; she found this one in a bookstore in Zuzu City and it just seemed like a smart thing to have with her. The other book is actually more of a notebook, handwritten and worn, that had belonged to her grandfather when he had lived out here.
She could spend the entire day in bed here, reading these books, learning and leaning in, but there is something else she is inclined to do today. Perhaps she is getting too ambitious with her progress, but she has one more goal for the day: meet someone new. And she knows just the place to go.
Dressing in the last clean clothes she owns and draping her bag over one shoulder, she steps out the front door once more. Glancing at her garden with a small smile edging at the corners of her mouth, she thinks once more of what it might look like in a year's time. Holding her small victory like a lifeline and already eager for another, she makes the trek south into the Cindersap woods.
The forest is silent, muffled by the mist. Last night, she had gotten lost within the wilderness on her way home, once again damned by her poor navigational skills. Eventually, stumbling before the largest tree she had ever seen in her life, her last bit of strength left her and her words to steady herself failed. Today, that will not happen; she would stake her soul on it. But while she was trying to find her way home, she had passed by what appeared to be a ranch; complete wooden fences surrounding an immense barn, the smell of livestock readily apparent, and a farmhouse nearby with warm lights radiating within. She had been half-tempted to knock on the front door and ask for directions, but she had been too afraid to do so. But today, emboldened by her high morale, she decides that it's time to meet her new neighbors.
It's not a terribly long walk until she reaches the ranch; the buildings are shrouded in fog, but she's able to catch a glimpse of the red bricks of the barn beneath the veil. No animals are milling about in the field, but perhaps that is because they don't like the rain. Approaching the door of the farmhouse, Dani can feel that little bit of confidence within her start to slip away. Refusing to give in to her doubts, her raised fist knocks on the door, well before she can talk herself out of doing this.
A moment of waiting. Dani's hands have already retreated into their place up her sleeves. She notices potted plants beside the door, some sort of yellow flower that she doesn't know the name of. She cannot help but wonder what sort of animals live within that barn; cows most likely, but maybe horses too? She loves goats; those unusual eyes, their silly demeanor. Sheep, maybe, or pigs, if these are creatures raised for slaughter. Suddenly, the door is yanked open in front of her, and Dani takes a quick step backward in shock. A wild bear could have answered the door and it would have been more expected than the person in front of her.
Shane stands in the doorway, his mouth slightly agape; by his expression alone, she cannot tell who of the two is more surprised to see the other there. He does not look well, not at all, as if he had aged a year since last night; there are dark circles around his eyes, and his scruff along his jaw is darker, more unkempt. His visible shock begins to shift into a scowl. "What are you doing here?"
All of the words in her entire vocabulary disappear from her mind. Transfixed, she can only stare at him, the gears in her head turning so fast that they are sure to spark and combust. She had been hoping to see him again, to thank him once more for helping her get home the night before. But she wasn't expecting to see him now; she has had no time to prepare, and she has never performed well under pressure. The more she tries to think of something to say, the harder it becomes to translate thought to speech.
A woman's voice can be heard distantly behind him, a blessed respite to the situation. "Shane, who is there?"
Shane, avoiding Dani's eyes, answers the question. "The new farmer."
"Well, invite her in!"
Rolling his eyes, Shane snaps the door open wide. "Come on, then."
Dani, still voiceless, can only follow Shane into what is evidently his home, to introduce herself to however else lives here. After all, that is what she wanted when she strolled up here, right? Already, the regret of this choice is flourishing within her by the second, but it is too late to back out now. She has literally walked right into this.
The farmhouse she finds herself in is a lot like her own, but on a larger scale; perhaps both homesteads were built by the same person around the same time. But Dani's cottage had sat abandoned for years; this house, on the other hand, feels far more inviting and welcoming than her own. Warm colored wallpaper surrounding her with slight chips that signal the wear of everyday life. A handmade carpet beneath her feet at the door stained with mud and grass. A hallway that led away from the front door ahead of her, leading to another room; a small doll with red hair laying on the floor in the hallway, face down. Two rooms faced on either side of her, but Dani keeps her sight on Shane; maybe it is just because she has a slight idea of who he is, even if it's just a name, and she is in an unknown place at her own volition and without just cause and she just does not know what else to do. But even the self-awareness that she is staring is awful, so she tears her gaze away, instead focusing on the neatly woven doormat beneath her. Even treading on it feels wrong, her feet feeling heavy, another reason to resent the space that she takes up. And while Dani's nerves are splitting at the seams from her self-inflicted stress, she has to admit that the house has a strangely calming element to it.
A short, heavyset woman with a messy mop of graying brown hair casually tied into a thick, unkempt braid saunters up from the kitchen to her right; on her face, she wears a friendly smile, which may have put Dani at ease if their introduction had been under different circumstances. "Oh! You are Daniella Wright, yes? Mayor Lewis has told me so much about you!"
"I'll be in my room." Without looking back, Shane marches away through the hallway, being sure to step over the red-haired doll as he does so.
The woman before her gives him a look of reproach as he does so. "Ah, ignore my nephew, please. He's never been much of a people person." There is the sound of a door shutting, a bit too loudly. The woman turns her head back to Dani. "My name is Marnie. It is so sweet of you to drop by here, truly. We haven't had a fresh face around in a long while!"
The words finally manifest on her tongue, though her nerves still feel frazzled. "It's nice to meet you," she responds, a little too quietly. She gives her a nervous smile, lips likely trembling slightly. Better to comply; the thoughts scuttle through her head without reason, and she finds herself following her better judgment rather than her instinct. "I'm sorry, I'm not that good at meeting new people."
"You and my nephew have that in common, then." Marnie gives a snort, casting another irate glance down the hallway that Shane disappeared down. "You know," she adds. "I knew your grandfather, back when he lived here."
"You did?" Dani's eyes widen slightly. This woman appeared to be middle-aged, but perhaps she is older than she looks. How curious this town is becoming, so much she wants to ask but will likely never find the courage to do so.
"Oh, yes. I was young then, but I've lived in this house my whole life. Arthur Wright was a sweet man, really. Him and Lewis were thicker than thieves." She grins widely, her warm brown eyes lighting up as she does so. "Lewis was so excited when he found out that you were moving in. It means a lot to him, to see that field get some use again."
Dani remembers that little stalk, the first flicker of life within the soil, and the smile that appears on her face is not forced in the slightest. "I am happy to be here. There's so much I need to learn, though, if I want to get the farm up and running."
"Well, if you ever decide to raise some livestock on that property of yours, do swing by here! I usually have to go up to Grampleton when it comes to that, but perhaps things will be different with a new farmer in town." Dani hasn't even considered the possibility of owning any animals on her farm. There is a large building left behind that might have been a barn, but the roof is barely intact and there isn't even a door left on the hatches; if she wanted to go down that route, she would need to see Robin about repairing it, and that will likely be a pricy down payment to begin with. Marnie chatters on while Dani unintentionally gets lost in her thoughts, but when the older woman pauses her tangent, Dani looks up at her questioningly.
Following the direction of Marnie's eyes, Dani turns her head to the left. Another room with an open door, leading somewhere that is obscured from sight. Dani spots a young girl, maybe around five or six years old, peeking out at her from behind the door. "Jas," Marnie's gentle voice says. "This is Daniella. Why don't you come out and introduce yourself?"
The little girl does not move an inch, and her stare does not leave Dani once. "...hi."
"Hello," Dani responds, her words soft. Should she drop down to one knee to make herself more approachable? She does not really have much experience with children.
"Come on, now, Jas." Marnie insists in tender tones. "Why don't you tell Dani how old you are?"
The child pushes the door open slightly more, and Dani is able to get a better look at her. She is dressed in a pale purple plaid dress, the colors faded and timeworn. Her dark hair is tied into pigtails, too short to reach her shoulders. Immediately, Dani realizes that this girl looks quite a bit like Shane, with their matching hair and skin color. Is that his daughter? She wonders, hoping that her speculation isn't being reflected in her expression. The girl is still staring at Dani, but she doesn't say anything more.
Marnie walks over to the child and pulls her into a hug. "This is Jas," she tells Dani, a hint of pride radiating in her voice. "She is going to turn seven this summer. Aren't you, Jas?"
Jas buries her face in Marnie's hip, a clear indication that she is unwilling to answer the question. Dani, still acutely aware of how unexpected and awkward her visit was, decides to make a move towards the door. "It's nice meeting you. Both of you. But I've already taken enough of your time."
"Don't be a stranger, sweetheart." Marnie says brightly, her arm still around Jas. "Next time you come by, we'll give you a tour of the barn. We'll see you around!"
Dani pulls the hefty wooden door open, slipping through once there is enough room for her to get by. Why is every single door in this entire valley so heavy? Shane had yanked it open as if it weighed nothing. Once she is back into the chilly spring air, she is more than ready to head back to her farm and just call it a day. The awkwardness of the encounter is still fresh within her, making her cringe at the words she had uttered as soon as the front door swings shut behind her. She had thought that Shane had lived somewhere in Pelican Town; the last place she would have expected him to be was inside this ranch house. And she did not get the chance to thank him again before he was already away from her. Maybe in time she will; just another hopeful thought to add to the list.
Holding herself close, Dani begins to make the trek back to her farm. Despite the uncomfortable introduction, she does not regret coming to the ranch as much as she thought she might. Sure, it was not a shining example of a flawless first impression, but at least she is meeting new people and putting herself out there. Perhaps in time, the folks who live around here will come around to her; perhaps she will even make a friend. Now she knows for sure that her ideations are becoming too bold. What a manic day this has become.
But maybe it is not such a bad thing after all. She should take the good days as they come, cling to them in moments of despair just as her arms wrap around herself on the walk back home. Today is not a perfect day in her terms, but maybe her days don't need to always pass her expectations. Maybe it is time to try and live without listening to every whim of that terrible voice in her head, a voice that is not even her own, telling her the right way or the wrong way or whatever way she should go. To stop wondering about the maybes and the perhaps and what ifs. To remember her tattoo, and the promise she made to herself when she got it.
Dani notices the blanket of clouds above her beginning to dim, the signal that the day is at an end even though there is no sun in the horizon to mark the occasion. The path to the farm is easy to find; it's even easier when she notices just how close Marnie's ranch is to the walkway. Somehow, she feels like last night will be the final time that she gets lost. She still hasn't fully discovered the valley; there are still plenty of places where she hasn't been. But as long as she can find that ranch, her neighbors south of her, she can find her way home. The thought is comforting, like a soft light glowing in the distance, yet another reason to believe that what she is doing will be worthwhile in the end.
She can only hope that she can hold onto this feeling within her for as long as she possibly can; long enough to find out what sort of soul has been hiding inside of her all along.
A/N: Oof! I am so sorry for the late update. I'll be honest here, folks; I have once again fallen face-first into my Animal Crossing addiction. Man, this 2.0 update has had me under its spell. Well, at least this is my most wholesome addiction :)
Chapter 6's editing is underway. I promise it will not be so long until the next one!
Thank you so much to everyone who took the time to read this. Until next time :)
This chapter's song lyric is brought to you by Take Me Down Easy by James Henry Jr. This song makes me really sad, but it's just so beautiful. Give it a listen if you have a free moment to sit alone and cry.