"It's late at night, it's time to tell you my secrets.
My personality's cut up into pieces.
My new society's my one secret weakness.
I'm out of money and I'm out of my mind."
Ezra Furman
Saturday, April 20th, Year 1
Dani stares emptily at the army of mason jars within her refrigerator, wondering why she ever thought that this venture was going to be any fun. What a fruitless endeavor, she thinks to herself, smiling at the irony of it all.
Her grandfather's old handbook had turned out to be quite a fascinating read. She had expected to see a lot of the same information that was included in the gardening guide she had brought with her. Rather, the worn pages of the book hold many tricks and tips about the natural world around her. Sketches and descriptions of various wild plants, many of which Dani had never heard of. Some of them have bizarre appearances or uses; trying to imagine them on grocery store shelves is almost absurd. It also has a section of what one should avoid, provided that the goal is sustenance and not suicide. The information, while useful, is scattered and disjointed, and Dani understands that she must exercise caution in this field.
It is one thing to plant seeds and harvest crops; the stuff that you can grow in a garden is similar to the sort of stuff that you can find in any grocery store or JojaMart. But to harvest random plants and herbs outside and eat them? That seems like a surefire way to poison yourself. She remembers that one novel she had read in high school about a man who ran away to an untouched wilderness to escape the burdens of everyday life; he had ended up accidentally eating the wrong thing and he died alone. That book had disturbed in more ways than one at the time, but considering her current situation, now it feels even more distressing. But never mind that.
If someone had told Dani two months ago that she would be foraging for consumption purposes, she would have written them off as insane. Of course, she hadn't found the letter her grandfather had left her yet, so naturally, the idea of scrounging for edibles would have been even more implausible in an urban setting. But life has a way of surprising even the best of them, especially the impulsive sorts such as herself.
When she finally found the guts to actually begin searching for food in the great outdoors, she wanted to take it slow and steady. She would not dare touch any mushrooms yet, even if they were in season; even with her book's guidance, that still seems like a ticket to an early grave, and poisoning is not the way she intends to go out. It would be hilariously ironic if she were to die from consuming something.
To her excitement, she discovered that the red berries she had seen growing on the bushes throughout Cindersap and the mountain pass are known as salmonberries, and they are not only edible but palatable. And most importantly, they have a distinct appearance, so there is little chance of her getting them confused with something poisonous. And then she remembered her grandfather, who often talked about the jam he made from the fruit he grew on his farm, and she figured that perhaps she could attempt the same thing. That was the thinking process, as she headed back home with a basket full of berries and childlike enthusiasm.
Dani can cook, provided she has a recipe. Her parents had kept a few cookbooks, and she learned from them when her curiosity with food and nutrition began to develop. Even when her fascination coupled itself with aversion, she still found herself paging through the books, reading them over and over again because they provided her some sort of paradoxical comfort. Without a recipe, though, she is lost. And as it happens, none of those cookbooks had any recipes for jam.
Her first batch of jam might have turned out well, but she got too impatient with the process, and she boiled the jars for less time than she should have. This, sadly, resulted in jars filled with slurry, almost runny enough to pass for juice. At best, it could be used as a new age brand of paint.
The second try was more successful in terms of consistency, but Shane's words of wisdom ended up prevailing. Dani managed to swallow two spoonfuls before admitting defeat; too little sugar damns even the best intentions. It might suffice as a medicine to test whether or not one's taste buds are functional, though.
The third attempt, thankfully, learned from both of its predecessors' shortcomings. The jam is thick enough to be spread upon bread and sweet enough to not shock the senses upon tasting. She wonders how it would taste alongside peanut butter, but that is one of her forbidden foods, and her curiosity does not outweigh her phobia. Despite her success, she doubts it could rival store-bought JojaJam. Either way, this batch would have to do, for Dani has depleted her salmonberry supply as well as her naïve optimism.
Dani leans against the refrigerator door as it closes shut, running one hand through her knotted hair. While it is progress, she cannot not help but feel that this is one step forward and two steps backward. Jam making might have been a bust, but at least she can sell a third of her stock. It is still going to take so many more days and weeks until her produce is ready, so a little gold will help pad her pockets for the time being.
Her crops and herbs are growing steadily; the spinach is growing so fast that Dani is almost worried that some sort of parasitic weed has taken over her garden in its place. She is quite sure that she could start to trim some of the stems off the herb starters. The parsnips and the potatoes will not be ready for a while yet, and she can only imagine how lengthy their labyrinth of roots have become beneath the earth.
However, there are more pressing concerns. Many of the leaves in her garden have been preyed upon; that, or spinach grows with natural nibble marks. No doubt there are some critters in the valley who are very happy about the Wright Farm's lack of homeland security. She set up a broom with a burlap sack over the brush head, hoping that it could serve as a makeshift scarecrow, but she doesn't have much faith in its ability to protect her crops. If she wants to expand this garden into something more, she would need to repair the fences, and she doesn't have a clue on how to do that. She can either employ Robin's services, hire help elsewhere, or buy the raw materials and try and do it as best she can on her own. All three options cost gold; gold that slowly trickles away from her with each passing day.
So, naturally, she is going to take a hidden fourth option, and just do a botched job with whatever the hell she can find already in her possession.
Dani steps outside of her farmhouse, greeted by the cool afternoon. The sky above her is clear and cloudless, an endless sea of calming blue. Feeling slightly uneasy, she paces over to the shed; she has actually not dared to enter any of the buildings on her farm since she arrived here, save for her homestead. They look so unstable that she is certain that they might collapse the moment she steps inside. But the shed is the most structurally sound of the buildings, and perhaps there is something useful in there.
Holding her breath, she opens the door to the shed. The door creaks and shutters at every movement; if this was a horror movie, this would be the part where the audience would beg the protagonist to just turn around and run! But no monsters fling themselves out at her; only a musty room, mostly empty, with a wall lined with rusty tools and a couple crates pushed off to one corner.
It's difficult to see inside the shed without a light, so she creeps a little closer, peering at the tools along the wall. She spots an axe, though it looks far too heavy for her to handle. A worn fishing rod, the lines entangled with the lure; now that is an exciting find. Perhaps she will be able to try her hand at fishing at some point. A pickaxe, strangely; why would one need such a tool for farming and ranching? That seems to be the type of instrument that only miners would use. A long, curved blade that Dani cannot remember the name of, but she recalls that it is used for cutting tall grass in fields. Finally, she sees something that might be handy to her; a small hatchet, more rust than metal, with a handle that was more splinters than wood. But it is something she could lift. And that will have to do.
The rest of the afternoon is fraught with determination and desperation. She hacks away at the branches she can reach on the numerous trees on her property, hoping that she can create some sort of barrier to prevent the woodland creatures from eating her precious progress. But it is an exhausting endeavor. She cannot even imagine trying to chop down an entire tree at the base; just how does Robin manage? Briefly she fears that she might accidentally slice herself with the hatchet's edge and end up with a free admission for a tetanus shot, but she decides to soldier onwards. Besides, even if she did cut herself, there is no way that the shot would be free.
The sun is beginning to set by the time she has a collection of branches and twigs at her disposal. She arranges them carefully around the garden, trying to entwine them at first but then opting for a strength-in-numbers approach when it becomes clear that raw wood isn't exactly the best weaving material. By the time she is finished, most of her garden is surrounded by an aimless barricade of branches and sticks, a haphazard bandage over the fractured fences.
As she stares at the product of her efforts, thoroughly exhausted and feeling the threat of static around her vision, she realizes all at once, this isn't going to work.
Not just this bastardization of a fencing job, though; of course she was going to fail here. This was a terrible idea and she really just wasted an afternoon of her time trying to get out of spending money that she will no doubt need to fork over. But this is just another factor of the larger problem at hand, the reality that she needs to face. All of the fresh air and forests and farming and freedom might just be enough to heal her body and her soul, if she truly wants to recover in the end. But the predicament she is left with now is the farm itself.
It isn't going to work.
She has gold enough to last her a good while, if she uses it sparingly. She can buy seeds and grow her crops, she can forage and sell what she can, but there is no way she can move her farm out of creeping deterioration without putting down some hefty down payments. And if she does go that route, that will leave her barely scraping by, if at all. What if some terrible accident does befall her at some point? She could forgo some of her safe foods to save some coin, but if she is serious about making huge improvements to the farm, it might mean that she may not be able to afford the JojaShakes anymore. The irony is that in the one place in the world where true healing may finally be possible for her, in order to make it work in the long run, she may have to sacrifice her own health.
And suddenly, it's all very funny again.
With the last rays of light leaving the horizon and her thoughts all a blur, Dani begins to walk south, to some destination, somewhere.
The worst part is that she is afraid. She is afraid of what this will all come to, of where this is all heading towards. It is so very frightening to not know the answers, but it's even more terrible to have a vague idea of the options. And all of her options range from awful to impossible.
Somehow, it reminds her of inpatient. Not so much her current situation, but the fear she feels. She spent most of her time there in bed, afraid of what would happen if she did not comply; afraid of the results that would come forward when she complied; afraid of what was happening in the outside world while she was away; and most of all, afraid of what would happen if she truly wasn't strong enough to survive the treatment. She went through a wide range of emotions while she was there, though she did her best to keep them hidden within, lest they find a way to take those away too. She saw that same spectrum of feeling on the faces of the other patients, the fear and the anger and the loneliness within hollow bodies with sunken eyes.
Dani doesn't recall a whole lot from the entire experience. Nine months spent there, yet it can be contained in a few handfuls of memories, in scents and sounds and other surprising stimuli. But one thing she does remember is looking out of windows. Right outside her room's window was the courtyard, where they were not allowed to go. There were a few trees and bushes, some flowers planted, sparse greenery but plentiful as far as Zuzu City goes. Sometimes birds would fly by, or a squirrel would scuttle past. Sunny weather, or fluffy white clouds, or a dreary gray day to match the sterile colors of the hospital. Gentle drizzle, or steady downpours, or raging storms that threatened everything in the world save for her little room. So much life being lived, right in front of her, only just out of reach. And she had promised herself that once is enough, that she would never, ever go so long without being outdoors again.
In her own twisted way, she has fulfilled that promise in more ways than she could have ever dreamed. But it isn't going to work. What can she do? What is the hidden fourth option to take, the shifty trick to get out of eventual bankruptcy? There has to be some way. She has been here less than a month, sure, but she has come too far to give up now. This is not twenty days of progress she risks losing; this is almost half of her lifetime leading up to this trial, the greatest test of her entire existence.
In the distance of the darkening forest, Dani spots a flicker of light.
She halts her step, confused and breathless. She looks around hesitantly at the trees surrounding her, long dark shadows blending into the night. She glances upward at the sky; in the absence of sunlight, a different beauty is making itself known in the form of stars, brilliant and beautiful and impossible to count. The moon casts some light, but not a whole lot. She looks back at the tiny beacon in the distance, wondering what it could possibly be.
And, of course, the curiosity is just too much, and she finds herself treading cautiously to the source of the light.
Once more, she feels like she is in a horror movie, and the audience is smacking their hands against their faces at her stupidity. As she nears closer, she spots the reflection of stars upon water; the pond of Cindersap lay in front of her. She had discovered the landmark once before during her wild berry search; she must have walked farther than she'd thought. Dani ignores the sensation of static that continues to creep in, too determined to see this through. She continues on her way, watching that gleam of light grow larger and larger with each step she takes. As she approaches the source, she can make out the sight of a shadow hunched next to the light, and she hesitates once more.
In the dim light of night, she carefully walks to the base of the pond's dock. She can smell the pondwater, and its calmness makes her momentarily nervous that she might accidentally fall right into it due to the low visibility. Now that she is so close, she realizes that the source of the light is some sort of lantern, and the dark figure beside it must have brought it out here. She takes one creaking step onto the dock, and the shadow twists around.
"Up late, huh?" She knows the voice.
Dani stares warily at him; while he may be difficult to see in the darkness, she knows that the light is cast upon her. "I... I saw the lantern. I wondered what it might be."
"Just me." She hears the sloshing of liquid within a can. "Sorry to disappoint."
Dani, wordless, can only turn to leave. This man has made it clear more than once that he wants little or less to do with her, and though she may be a little dense, this is a message that has been received. Her retreat is cut short by his voice.
"Here." He has his hand outstretched to her, holding a can of something that she can only guess is beer. "If you're gonna collapse in the woods again, at least you can say it was from booze."
"That will not happen again," she says softly, but she makes the decision to walk down the dock towards the man at the end of it. Shane is standing up now on unsteady feet, and she hastens her pace slightly, anxious that he might tip over into the pond. Their fingers brush slightly as he hands her a can of beer, one of the cheap varieties that they sell in bulk at JojaMart. A few paces behind the lantern, she spots an entire case of the stuff; he must have intended to be out here for a long while.
Shane stumbles back to the edge of the dock, but she notes that he is no longer sitting right in the middle; there is now room for her on the edge. Her throat suddenly tight, she steps closer towards the pier's end. She sits down beside him, their feet dangling over the surface of the water.
Dani cracks open the can; the carbonation of the liquid within hisses as the pressure is released. Shane does the same, and he holds out his drink in her direction. "To life," he says bitterly.
"To life," she echoes. Their cans clink together, the beer inside sloshing slightly at their movements. Shane immediately brings his can to his mouth, gulping down several mouthfuls, while Dani just stares ahead at the water. It really is a beautiful night tonight; the clear day has led to a stunning view of the stars, with each one reflected in the pond before them.
Mostly, she is just trying to understand this situation as best as she can; an undertaking that is easier said than done with how lightheaded she feels. She is more than willing to leave Shane alone if that is what he wants. Why would he want to drink with her? This man confuses her in more ways than one, but trying to figure out his intentions or his thought process seems like a waste of her efforts. In truth, she is happy to share his company, and a small part of her hopes that he feels the same way.
The little lantern casts shadows upon her companion, obscuring his face and faintly illuminating his back. Once again, she notices his jacket, and her words leave her mouth before she can cull them back. "They never gave me a jacket."
"What?" Shane glances at her, his eyebrows scrunched with confusion. "You worked for Joja?"
She can feel the corners of her mouth rise in a nervous grin; perhaps this is the gateway into conversation she was looking for. "Not for very long. It was sort of a bargaining chip for my parents. It was go to school and get a job, or find a place on my own. Thankfully, Joja is always hiring."
Shane says nothing for a moment, and Dani feels her heart rate drop a step. Maybe it was not the right thing to say. But then, what is? She resists the urge to glance over at the man seated next to her, knowing that scanning his face will yield her no answers on what to do. All she has to work with is instinct, as well as her recent realization that her time here in the valley may be running out.
"What sort of work did you do?" Shane asks, though his voice sounds disinterested in her response. Perhaps he is as eager to fill the silence as she is.
"Receptionist," she answers, her hands slipping into her sleeves and gripping them like gloves around her fingers. "You know when a customer is angry, and they are given a number to call when they have a compliant to file? That was me on the other line."
Shane makes some sort of noise, half-way between a grunt and a chuckle. "I probably sent a few folks your way, then."
She smiles a little at that, even though she is not certain whether or not he meant that as a light-hearted attempt at humor. "I have to say, though," she says quietly, her words edged with her creeping anxiety. "For as terrible as Joja is, at least the pay is... Consistent."
"Yeah, they have that going for them." Shane's voice slurs slightly. "How's jam making going?"
"I made three batches so far," she responds, her sheathed fingers grasping around the can. The condensation feels cool and wet through the sleeves of her sweater. "I think the last batch I made might even be edible."
Shane snorts at that, looking away from her. "Christ."
Dani can feel a small smile edging on her lips. Somehow, voicing the thoughts that have been torturing her feels like relief. "Well, I got to find a way to get some income in. As it turns out, farming is not exactly lucrative. Or profitable. Or even self-sustaining."
Shane shakes his head slightly. "Did no one warn you about that before you came out here?"
"At least five or six people told me that I was making the biggest mistake of my life." She takes the first sip from her beer; it's heavy and bitter, coating her tongue almost instantly. "I finally figured out that they were probably right around day four."
Shane tilts his can back, letting the liquid run down his throat. "So," he says afterward. "What are you going to do?"
"Sell the jam I made and the crops and herbs I've been growing. Hopefully that will be enough to buy more seeds and keep myself out of poverty. Summer is coming, so I'm hoping to get a much better harvest." She looks up at the sky above them, a vast ocean of glittering stars, as beautiful and as unreachable as the view from her hospital room's window. "Either I make it, or I don't. At this point, this is the only way. I have nowhere else to go."
Shane seems silenced by her words. He turns his head to the side towards her, and she catches a glimpse of his facial features. He looks as though he's deep in thought; his brow is furrowed and his eyes are trained on the star-reflected pond. The shadows that the lantern's light cast on his face make the dark circles under his eyes look even more prominent. She wonders if there has been a single time that she has seen him sober or not hungover. But, even then... She has to admit that she finds it difficult to look away from him.
Suddenly, he says in a quiet voice, "Do you ever feel like... No matter what you do, you're going to fail?"
Dani thinks of her farm, of her exposed plants and her shoddy attempt at fixing her fencing issue, of all of the decrepit buildings that could be something glorious if she only had the strength or the coin to fix them up. But then she thinks of her meal plan, the safe foods at her farmhouse, and the last week of good days. An old voice whispers, I have already failed.
"Like you're stuck in some miserable abyss. Never gonna see the light of day." His words are slurring again, as he finishes off his beer and instantly reaches for another one. Cracking it open, he stares back out into the water, his eyes even farther away, staring at some invisible destination that only he can see. "I just feel like... No matter how hard I try... I'm just not strong enough to climb out of that hole."
His words hang heavy in the air between them, leaving them both in stifling silence. Dani struggles to find something, anything, to say in response, but she falls short as the weight of what he said sinks into her. So, she lifts her can of beer to her mouth, and begins to gulp it down. The liquid is thick and the flavor is strong but tolerable, and she continues to drain it until the last drop is through. All of the JojaShakes that she has consumed over her lifetime have apparently left her with some experience, as she makes such short work of the can that Shane can only stare at her with an expression that can only read as impressed.
Shane chuckles slightly as she moves the can away from her mouth, looking away from her now. "Fast drinker, huh? Girl after my own heart."
Dani wipes her mouth with her sleeve, a heated blush creeping into her cheeks. Thankfully, it's very dark out, and even if he does notice, she can attribute that to being flushed from the drink.
"Well, just don't make it a habit. You've still got a future ahead of you." The words he speaks are amiable, but Dani can hear a slight edge in his voice.
Dani presses the can in her hand until it buckles in her grip. Once again, she thinks of her hospital room, of nine months of weather she watched pass her by; of several years wrapped up in her illness, her own life slipping from her grip. "I've already wasted a lot of time," she murmurs.
Shane lets out a sardonic laugh. "You can barely be old enough to even drink that beer."
Dani opens her mouth to deliver some sort of rebuttal, but she ends up only chuckling instead. The alcohol is beginning to hit her now; coupled with having not eaten since this morning, it is admittedly making her feel very dazed. "Guilty. I'm twenty." Looking back at her hands, she asks him, "How old are you?"
"As of today, I'm twenty-eight."
Dani blinks, letting the words sink in. "Today is your birthday?"
Shane raises his can of beer into the air. "Happy birthday to me," he mutters bitterly before taking another drink.
Dani finds herself staring at Shane, once again trying to figure him out. He has a family, from what she saw; Marnie had said that he was her nephew, and the little girl who looks just like him must be related to him in some way. Why is he out here drinking beer in the forest by himself instead of spending time with them? But then, all at once, she remembers how she spent her last birthday here, far away from family and friends, crying herself to sleep. The words she wants to say are, I don't think we are so different, you know, but her voice feels stuck in her throat. And even if she does tell him that, he will probably wholeheartedly disagree and the comment would go unrecognized and resented.
"What does it mean?" Shane's voice pulls her out of her dizzying thoughts.
"Hm?" She looks back at him, confused.
"Your tattoo." He points to her left wrist. She looks down to see that her sleeve has fallen back slightly, exposing the inked skin underneath. She hesitates for a moment, wondering if she should just make something up and say she got it while drunk or high or whatever, but she decides against it. The strangest thing is that she doesn't actually want to bullshit him. Maybe she is just tired of all the lying.
She holds her wrist closer to him, pulling back the sleeve even further. Keeping her eyes focused on the water, she traces the shape of the stylized heart with one finger, remembering the promises she has made. "It's the symbol for NEDA," she says softly, her words almost lost in the gentle night breeze. "That's the National Eating Disorder Association."
Silence.
Then, "Oh."
Silence.
Finally, she hears Shane speak again. "That why you fell down?"
She tries to resist the urge to hide her hands within her sleeves. Or just allow herself to tip forward and fall right into the pond. "Yeah."
Shane readjusts himself on the dock, bringing his knees to his chin. "Look, I am the last person to tell you to take care of yourself. But you oughta be a little bit more careful. I meant what I said. You got a future here, if you want one. Don't waste any more time."
Dani turns her head, meeting his eyes. "You're right," she says softly. The silence that follows is not something she can explain, but it does not feel strained anymore. There is a quiet peace within her now, perhaps just because she got her thoughts out.
In the corner of her eye, Shane heaves himself up to his feet; Dani whips her head around, once again fearful that he might trip and fall into the pond. "Well, I'm gonna call it a night. Think my liver's begging me to stop." He reaches down to grab the case of beer with one hand. He turns back to look at her once more. "See you around, Dani."
Dani listens to the scraping of his footsteps growing softer and softer as he walks away. And in that moment, as she stares at the portrait of the cosmos within the pond before her, something within her wants to call him back. To say what? To say something, anything. But just as quick as the thought had come to her, he was gone, leaving Dani with only the stars as company.
A/N: Hi! Sorry for such a delay. I am in my last year of university and maaan, I have underestimated just how little time I would have. But I'm still somehow afloat and just taking it day by day.
Hope 2022 is treating you well!
This chapter's song lyric is brought to you by Lousy Connection - Ezra Furman. Good and sad, my favorite kind of music.