Just give me a sign, there's an end with a beginning. - New York, Snow Patrol
September 2017, Los Angeles
The funeral home is a big house in red brick surrounded the foliage of an, at least partially, well-groomed park. It has a big annex sticking out of it, not unlike a church. It even has stained glass windows, but with a sunset instead of a religious motif. Apparently, Jimmy was an atheist and this is a place specializing in humanist services. Rory stifles a yawn as they exit the car. It's been a long few weeks. The call threw their little family into frantic activity, or maybe it was Jess who did following it.
Sasha has been a big help, setting up most of the practical things for the service, it's hardly surprising considering it's in California. The shortest discussion surrounding the event was where it would take place. Jimmy had been pretty clear about where he belonged, even in death.
As soon as they had a date Liz announced that she was joining them, said it was important to say goodbye even to people who hurt you, maybe especially those, and that Jimmy was a good guy, just not a dad. For a brief moment Rory worried that Jess would take issue with that but he quietly accepted, well, there might have been a 'huh'. But here they are.
The worst part so far has been learning what happened. Rory had no insight in the man's life, but Sasha got them up to speed. He'd been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer about a year prior and died the tenth of August. The story's hardly unique, but that's of course beside the point. Watching Jess take part of that information was awful; It had been easy figuring he counted backwards to the first ignored phone call from his father, putting two and two together.
Since then he's been submerged in arrangements for the service, working his butt off on Truncheon to compensate for the trip to California. She's had little to no idea on how to help him. She's fairly clear on what he must be feeling, but not on how he wants, or needs, to handle it. At first, she was scared that he would break, go off somewhere and self-destruct, but that hasn't happened. Instead he's been absent-minded, busy and quiet. He hasn't initiated... anything, really. He's spent time with her when asked, but it's seemed more like an act of reassurance for her benefit rather than for himself. And she won't push further, because she's supposed to be reassured.
The guests start arriving, and there is a surprising amount of them, possibly because of Jimmy's young age, possibly because of his excessive social interactions. Many are dressed in whites, light colors and casual clothing as per the invitation, that was the one thing Jess and Sasha couldn't agree on; Not that it lead to any sort of conflict, he backed off when she insisted. He hasn't been able to pick anything in that style for himself however and has fallen back on his black suit, just skipped the tie. Rory's in a black dress also, seemed the least she could do so he doesn't stick out.
The last funeral she attended was her grandfather's and this seems to turn into a radically different event. Not that it's a surprise, and it might just be a question of surface anyway, but she considers the changes all the same, to steel herself.
She remembers being all torn up at the day in question, longing for a way to say goodbye, but being distracted by the form, the ceremonial shape of the service. All the etiquette, the marks she and her family were expected to hit. And how strange all the religious elements had felt. Her grandfather hadn't been a distinctly religious man, so it seemed to be more a part of the way things were done, and she remembers that it made her feel distant, and sadder because of that. She remembers feeling unsatisfied as Luke drove her to the airport afterwards, heart heavy.
She harbors a vain hope that things will be better for Jess, even if she's certain they won't, not even with the lack of ceremony in this particular ceremony, too many unaddressed issues.
They stand a bit away from the rest of the crowd, and Rory wants to urge Liz and Jess to Sasha's side but holds herself back. It's not her decision, and she knows too little about the whole situation to drive some agenda of her own. Anyway, this seems to be a function for people uncomfortable at events labeled as functions, so etiquette might not be the first thing on people's minds.
She nervously regards Jess – his entire being a dark spot in the Californian sun and Jimmy's brightly clad friends. He's pale from sleep-deprivation and from that other thing that they've yet to discuss. Grief. She's well-aware that it can be as complicated as the people it concerns. He's disappeared into his to do-lists and has yet to emerge. She gets it. Has done the same thing herself.
The only outward sign of the state of his heart is his serious expression and that he chews on his lip and nails, a habit accentuated under pressure, she knows that from experience by now. And he keeps fiddling with a coin, flicking it between knuckles and dragging fingers over its' surface, possibly to keep his teeth off them. It's not much but she's worried, for his cuticles if nothing else.
She takes his hand to calm him but her capacity for intervening is limited by Will. Liz has repeatedly offered to take him, but Rory knows it would unnerve Jess enough to cause more damage than it would help, so she plays the clingy mother and keeps the baby close.
She wishes she'd asked more about Jimmy when there was time, now she doesn't want to risk making it worse by prying into it. She's asked if he needs to talk on a few occasions but has received answers along the lines of 'nothing to say', 'I hardly knew him' or 'the man was nothing to me' - the last one verbatim, actually, a couple of times. Then he's appeased her by taking Will, urging her to watch a movie or something like that, and she's let herself get calmed, stupidly, maybe.
A gong of sorts rings out and people start heading inside. Sasha, accompanied by Lily, walks up to them and sticks her arm under Jess's.
"It's time." She says.
They walk towards the entrance. Jess clings to Rory's hand and she has to move Will up on her arm to keep the grip. Liz flanks her.
Sasha shows them to places in the second row. Jess stops, however, keeping them from sitting down, looks to Sasha, obviously uncomfortable, hesitating, then:
"I don't want this."
Sasha stifles a sigh, places a hand on his arm, and speaks lowly, like to a scared animal.
"You're family, this is your seat."
Rory is torn between her manners, telling her to accept graciously and sit down as soon as possible, and her loyalty to him, that demands she waits for him to approve it. He does, following Sasha's words, though; After a few beats he takes a half-step back, letting Rory, Will and Liz into the row. He takes a seat at the edge of the pew.
Sasha takes a seat in front of them where there are also places reserved for a line of scruffy-looking musicians scheduled to play during the ceremony, and who are all seated by their instruments in the chancel. Lily joins them and supplies the vocals on their version of Anywhere I Lay My Head. Her voice is simple but strong. The place is beautiful, the sun's rays through the windows creating golden and rose-colored light over the spot where the urn and Jimmy's portrait is placed, and the mic-stand to which the officiate walks and stops. He's in a grey suit. Unremarkable. As the song ends and the band takes their seats, he starts talking.
"Author Naguib Mahfouz wrote: 'Home is not where you were born; home is where all your attempts to escape cease'. Jimmy was born in Minnesota but didn't find home until moving here in his late twenties-"
As he speaks, Jess's grip on her hand tightens uncomfortably and a weak sound is pushed through her lips.
"Ow."
He looks at her sharply at the sound, lower lip dropping, his expression turning wide-eyed.
"Sorry." He says. Swallows, then: "I'm sorry." He lets go of her hand and gets out of the pew walking briskly toward the exit. She looks after him, stunned as he exits the doors, daylight from outside briefly flashing as they open and close. She's paralyzed for a second, before turning to face Liz, feeling the desperation in her own expression.
"What do I do?" She whispers.
Liz reaches for Will.
"Go." She responds.
When Rory exits the building she can't see him, she walks around the building without finding him, and she's on her way to search the park, when she halts and walks back towards the parking lot on a hunch. He's standing on a patch of grass between the lot and the street, smoking a cigarette. He looks up as she approaches and stubs it out with an expression both apologetic and irritated.
"Sorry." He says again.
"Don't be." She shakes her head and forces away her earlier urgency, walks slowly towards him. "Seems like the appropriate time for it if any. But you're gonna have to show me your stashes at some point because I am clueless."
He looks at the sky for a moment before meeting her eyes.
"The man was nothing to me."
She stops a few feet from him.
"I know."
"So how come I have to feel like this?" The words are naked, and she swallows the sting in her throat.
"Because he was nothing to you." She walks into him, throwing her arms around his body. Talking into his shoulder, grateful it muffles her voice. "People are supposed to matter." She weighs her words. "Parents aren't supposed to be nothing to their children."
He gasps, then tenses, and she pulls back to see him biting his lip, frowning, a look of dark concentration on his face. She swallows thickly once more and squeezes harder around him.
"You have to stop fighting this," she barely keeps the desperation from her voice, and he sounds no better.
"I can't."
She kisses him. Doesn't quite know why, but it's a real kiss and the first they've shared in weeks; her lips prying his open, tongue in his mouth, tasting his stupid cigarette, his blood. He sobs into her, it's a strange sound, she's never heard him make anything like it, except during sex. She pulls back, and he throws his hands over his mouth, some shock evident in his eyes. She bends her neck and buries her face in his chest, stroking his back, to offer something like comfort, and to register his sobs without looking at him. Doesn't think he wants her to, not sure she can handle it herself.
Then there's another, familiar cry: Will. She turns around to find Liz a few feet away, Will in her arms.
"I'm sorry, " she starts, "I couldn't calm him."
Rory lets go of Jess and instinctively walks up to Liz, taking the crying baby into her own embrace. His cries immediately subside. Liz looks at her son, who pinches the bridge of his nose, shoulder rising and falling with decreasing speed, as he obviously struggles to collect himself.
"Oh sweetheart!" Liz exclaims.
He looks at her sharply, eyes shiny, and throws out a hand to stop her.
"I'm fine, Liz."
Liz tilts her head but won't be deterred by his dismissive gesture.
"I know, honey." She says in an indulgent tone that seems completely earnest, but she still walks straight up to him folding her arms around him. Rory holds her breath, while watching the rare interaction. He's frozen for seconds, eyes staring into space, his arms pressed to his sides, hands in fists. Then he sighs, putting his arms around his mother and actually leans his chin on her shoulder, closing his eyes.
It doesn't last for more than about thirty seconds though, he straightens his back.
"We should get back inside."
They silently agree and return to their places when the band plays an instrumental version of Life on Mars. He holds her hand through the remaining service, stroking its back with his thumb.
The reception is held in a separate building but part of the same complex, smaller, more like a home, but a bigger kitchen and several restrooms in a row by the entrance. Most of the people from the service attends the reception as well, so the crowd is a lot at times, even for her. Since Will came along she's needed privacy more than before. Noises and movements should be tempered to suit a baby, luckily Will doesn't seem that bothered today, just clings to her shirt holding his still somewhat unsteady head to look around the room at all the people. Jess stays close, even though Sasha manages to take him for a walk around the room, introducing him to a few people. He returns as soon as he can, though, and brings Will with him for a short walk around the place. Liz joins her and leans against the wall in the corner where she stands.
"You okay?" Liz asks.
"I don't know if it's relevant." Rory answers in a sigh. "How about you?"
Liz gestures dismissively.
"I'm fine. I said goodbye to Jimmy a long time ago and made my peace with it then. I'm just here for Jess."
Rory looks at her, expecting more, but there isn't any. She wonders what Liz knows, or senses about Jess's feelings regarding her, and what she herself does, what she might have missed. They remain standing next to each other for a while, and she thinks about how strange it is that it's comforting. She still doesn't know what to make of Liz, but her presence is familiar, so it's sort of calming anyway.
Jess returns with Will and they get something to eat, taking turns holding the baby, while Liz talks with one of the musicians who apparently attended the actual Woodstock. She offers her a cigarette and they head outside.
Rory wolfs down her food. She has to be quicker considering the amount she needs these days. Jess holds Will and Will holds on to Jess, grabbing strands of his hair and even his chapped lip pulling it. Jess's wince is no more than a twitch and a tremor in his face. Despite the physical discomfort he mostly looks calm while watching his son.
"Excuse me."
They turn around and are approached by an angular old man, with dark grey hair and immaculately maintained beard, in a navy suit.
"You're Jess." The man says.
Jess nods and the man reaches out his right hand in a greeting.
"James Mariano." Jess shakes his hand. "I'm your grandfather."
Rory has to bite her lower lip to keep it from falling and Jess doesn't look much different from how she feels. He awkwardly introduces her and a somewhat fussy Will. James is a widower, ex-military and flown in from Minneapolis. She excuses herself pretty quickly after they've done away with the introductions, to let them get to know each other. Will falls asleep in his pram and she leaves him on the back porch with Lily and goes to find Sasha to help out. The two of them wind up in the kitchen, stacking trays with coffee cups and cake. Once they've found their rhythm, Rory speaks.
"I'm so sorry for your loss." She says, hasn't really had a chance before in the flurry of introductions and practical distractions. Sasha sighs and smiles weakly.
"Thank you." They work for another minute before she speaks again. "How long have you and Jess been together?"
"Now, or...?" Rory starts without really considering her words. She interrupts herself and Sasha smiles. "Just over two years, we might have had our anniversary a few days ago." She hasn't had a chance to think about it.
"I'm sorry."
Rory shrugs.
"It doesn't matter, there'll be others."
Sasha smiles again and nods. She picks down two smaller glasses from a cupboard and pours dessert wine into them before handing one to Rory. They each take a sip.
"You getting hitched?"
"I don't think we're the kind to." Rory answers with some hesitation.
"Really? You seem so..." Sasha raises her eyebrows, then looks like she remembers something. "But, I get it. You have bad experiences, so you figure you're not right for it."
"A bit." Rory admits.
"You're looking at it wrong. You don't gotta measure up to the institution - it's a tool you can use, give your own meaning."
"You don't strike me-" Rory starts.
"As the traditional type right?" Sasha finishes and Rory nods. "I was married, to Lil's father. He was good at hiding what he was. I won't do it again." Her words are like well-worn clothes. "My parents though... everybody's a kid when it comes to their parents I guess, but that's where I get it." She smiles to herself, a bit lost in thought. "They weren't attached at the hip or anything, just had a real good harmony with each other. My dad had this way of looking at my mom..." She looks back at Rory. "Maybe Jess reminded me a bit of that today. He seems pretty devoted to you."
A shiver of recognition runs through Rory at the words, reminding her of all the times she thought about that word in connection with him, not only when it comes to her. Sasha continues after another sip.
"When we had him years ago he sure was committed to brooding."
Rory snorts, smiles a little.
"Yeah, you gotta pay attention to him otherwise he'll be going through stuff on his own." She says.
"And what does it take to provide that commitment?" Sasha remarks. "Seems that devotion is mutual." She taps the side of her glass staring into space for a few seconds before continuing. "He has a completely different vibe than Jimmy." She shakes her head.
"What was he like?" Rory doesn't hesitate to ask, having quickly grown comfortable with Sasha.
"East Coast refugee, converted Californian. Very taken with the option of letting go, being laid back about stuff. Avoided conflict like the plague. Forgave easily. And Jess was like-" Sasha pauses for a short laugh. "-It was clear he wasn't the forgiving and forgetting type."
Rory frowns and Sasha obviously notices because she goes on.
"But, you know, that has two sides. I always figured if he could find some way to direct it properly, that kind of energy could do pretty much anything. Sticking with a relationship for good for instance." Sasha pushes herself off the counter she's been leaning on and puts down her glass. "Listen to me! I sound like some advice column from Housewife's Weekly! What do I know? I'm just trying to save everybody I guess. It's a blessing and a curse."
Rory takes a swig of wine, suddenly a bit achy.
"I wouldn't know." She mumbles. "I don't think I've ever helped anyone." Except him, he claims. But that wasn't on purpose and they're so beyond even at this point.
"I somehow find that hard to believe." Sasha says with an eyebrow quirked.
Rory changes the subject.
"You and Jimmy never got married?"
"Oh no, good thing too. We broke up years ago."
"Oh." Rory's embarrassed and a bit confused. It must show because Sasha puts a reassuring hand on her arm.
"It was an amicable split. I spent most of my time taking care of everybody's lives, and when Lil started flaking out in school, sinking into depression, I just needed someone with a bit more spunk. He was very understanding, always was once you explained things to him." She gestures to the living room. "Jared out there, you saw him on Base during the service, is also an accountant. We've lived together for the better part of a decade."
"I'm sorry, I just assumed-"
"I told you I manage people's lives. Even deaths, apparently." Her tone is dampened for a moment before it turns up again, escalating with sharpness. "Me and Jimmy always stayed in touch, and lucky for him, he never could pick a keeper, the last one left when he was diagnosed. He didn't tell me until three months ago though. Stubborn idiot." She pauses for breath. Looks at Rory with sudden regret and smiles. "Don't be sad about it, he was fine, always landed on his feet, emotionally." She picks up another coffee cup and rinses it before putting it in the dishwasher. "It's hard to fall through the cracks completely around here, hard times aren't quite as hard when you have the ocean and the sunsets nearby."
It's too much right then for some reason. Rory excuses herself. The line to the bathroom is too long and she winds up crying in a cleaning closet. She's just gotten herself together and listens until it's quiet outside the door, but when she exits she still walks straight into Jess. His gaze is awake as he reads her expression, what she assumes are slightly red-brimmed eyes, then he smiles softly, with real warmth, and pulls her into his arms, strokes her head. She sniffles a bit into his shirt, this time from relief.
"We traded numbers and addresses." He mumbles. "I promised to write, actual letters, to send him books. He'll come visit us later this fall."
"Okay." She manages and is once more grateful for the muffling darkness of his shirt.
"He didn't know about me until Jimmy already split for California." The tremble in his voice is only audible for the well-trained ear. "Apologized for it like it was his fault."
She can't produce another response, just presses closer to him, and he holds her for minutes.
"You wanna get outta here?" He asks.
She looks up and must look puzzled, he goes on.
"I already cleared it with Sasha. We're meeting for breakfast tomorrow."
"Then, yes."
"Okay then."
They collect Liz and Will and get into the rental. Once they arrive at the hotel Will is wide awake. When they exit the car Liz turns to Jess.
"I can take him for a while. Let you have some time to yourselves."
Rory prepares to dutifully object but Jess interrupts her.
"Sure."
If Liz is surprised she hides it well, maybe she's where he gets the poker face. She puts Will in the pram and turns toward the beach.
"We'll go for a walk. We'll be back in a couple of hours tops. Call me if you want him back sooner."
Jess nods and grasps Rory's hand heading into the hotel. She looks at him and he glances back with a tiny smile.
"Cork it." He mutters.
"Fine."
He hugs her as they enter the room. It is probably not meant as anything other than acting on a tender impulse, but she's hanging up her coat at the time, arms elevated while his slip around her waist and she feels like an exposed nerve, a button waiting to be pushed. She tilts her head to the side baring her neck and pushes back. He exhales at the pressure and holds her tighter kissing her neck up to her ear, and she's just giddy from the fact that he wants something again, plus, it's really good, so she produces something vaguely like a purr and his breath speeds up at the sound. He leans her to the wall and pulls up her skirt. She almost loses it, his energy is unfocused, ragged, and not a little bit suggestive. But it's also unstable, it needs someone at the helm, so she reaches for his hands and directs them to the zip string at her back. He pulls it and strokes the dress off her.
She's been tip-toeing around his silence for the last weeks, and this day, this charge of him breaking it by needing her, suddenly means it's very relevant how she feels too. She twists in his pinning grip until she's kissing him. When he touches her face, his hands smell metallic. It's clear he's off his guard. His rhythm is uneven, there are tremors where there's usually just strength. She rises to occasion in those moments, brings him closer. She does it when she demands he meets her steady gaze, she does it when she pushes them off the wall towards the bed, she does it when she wraps her legs around him locking them together. He clings to her like it's all he can do. His face is expressive with mixed sensations, but he's all there, not taken by routine or mechanics. She doesn't need him to tell her about it though, she's felt it herself, in Luke's cabin, and the memory moves in her along with him.
A while later they're naked in bad together and their clothes are left in piles in the hallway. Her release or maybe relief but probably both, spreads their ripples through her body. And he sniffles. She turns her head sharply towards him but he's already drying his eyes. He looks at her, eyelashes still wet.
"Guess you were right about missed opportunities and all that stuff." He says hoarsely.
She turns onto her side for better contact. Leans on him and drags her fingertip over his lashes.
"Yes. But you didn't need me to tell you that. Sometimes things just work out exactly like they have to."
He raises his eyebrow at her, in skepticism, but also genuine confusion.
"I could've not been so stubborn," he says, "picked up the phone."
"Sure. And you could have called him back. Anything is possible. But you didn't. You had no reason to, no new information." She stares at him for emphasis. "He told no one. You didn't know, you couldn't have known."
"How could he have told me when I wouldn't answer my damn phone." He looks at the ceiling.
"He could've told Liz. Liz would've told you."
"I could've-"
She interrupts him firmly without feeling the least bit bad about it.
"Had you known you would've called, I know you would've. And now, you will have to stop being so stubborn and forgive yourself that you didn't. You hear?" She reaches out and strokes the side his face to keep him facing her. "It's not too late to forgive him too, if you want to. And communication may be a two-way street, but he was your father, and he owed you. No matter how you twist this, that was on him."
He doesn't answer, but doesn't protest, so she relaxes some. They're quiet for a while. She gets up to use the bathroom, washes her face clear of smudged make-up. Looks at herself in the mirror. On her way back, she spots something shiny in the white of his shirt on the floor, bends over and picks it up, inspects it closer. It's not a coin, it's a medallion. Jess regards her from his place in the bed.
"Matt gave it to me after Will was born." He says as she walks the last steps to him, still with her eyes on the thing. "Apparently Joseph is the patron saint of fathers."
She climbs onto the mattress again, lies down, and leans on his shoulder, lifting the medallion over his chest catching the light with it.
"That's nice." She mumbles. "Someone choosing to be one."
"Right."
She puts it down over his heart and takes his hand instead, laces their fingers together and inspects his nails, bitten to the flesh. She sighs sharply.
"Look at this mess, Jess!" She manages to sound more like a disappointed teacher than a concerned lover, and he laughs on his next breath. She kisses his fingers to make up for it. Then she asks again. "You wanna talk about it?"
And then finally he does.
"I asked for a month, and that's the time I got, over ten years ago. And it was all pickle jars and quirky anecdotes. He did not get into the deep stuff. And when that time had passed... I couldn't bring myself to ask for more, he didn't ask where I was going, didn't try to stop me." He pauses. "And that was it. I didn't feel I could hold it against him at the time, but now... After Will..." He takes a sharp breath and speaks again, a little louder. "He walked out, not just on me, but Liz too, and I don't usually commiserate with her but- And even now I'm angry with him and by extension me, 'cause I just left too."
She gets up on her elbow.
"That is not the same." She objects.
"Who does that?"
The question is rhetorical, but she blatantly ignores that.
"Probably someone who thinks he's nothing. Or thinks he can only make things worse."
"Or someone who only thinks about himself." His tone is soft, as if urging her to accept the harsh sentiment. "I think you're missing the fact that sometimes people are just pricks."
"So, which one was Jimmy?" She counters.
He sighs.
"Probably both."
"And you're not him." Her follow-up is immediate.
When he speaks it's slow, like he's pushing the words out against his will.
"I have plenty in common with Jimmy."
"Well, I don't see it. So, if that's the case it's nothing bad."
She knows her stubbornness lacks the realistic nuance, but she doesn't care, she needs him to feel what she does. Silence. He looks at her disbelieving but manages a tiny grateful smile.
"Hear that? Nothing." She mumbles and puts her mouth to his. Minutes pass before she pulls back, leaning her head on his shoulder. She picks up the medallion again.
"You don't have a chain for it."
"What, I'm gonna wear it? I'm not catholic." He objects.
"So? You're not a hippie and you still wear that turquoise ring."
He twists his neck to glare at her.
"It was a gift from Doula."
"That's my point. When you receive a gift, you accept the giver's vision of you, that's its' power. So, you can be meant for things you didn't picture for yourself. Belong to new things in new ways." She smiles. "Besides, you do what you want."
He leans back against the pillow.
"What I want." He repeats.
"Or choose." She adds.
There's a pause before he presses his lips to her head.
"Thank you."
He falls asleep a little while later and she gets up and calls Liz back. Then she gets into her yoga pants and a t-shirt and walks outside. She buys a lemon soda from the vending machine, pulls out a plastic chair and sits down, waiting for Liz and Will. The place is nothing special and her view consists of the parking lot, but the pink sky visible between buildings and even the silhouette of palm trees in combination with the warm night air, makes it seem exotic. Or maybe it's just jet lag. Liz comes walking with the pram and she raises her hand in a greeting.
"He's asleep." She says and gestures to the closed door when Liz stops in front of her.
"Good. This one's getting there too. Long day."
"How was your walk?"
"Lovely. Place is full of my kind of people. Speaking of which; is it okay if I skip breakfast tomorrow? Figured I could use the time to spend some barefoot time on the beach. Talk a bit with Jimmy."
Rory smiles.
"I thought you were done talking to him."
Liz returns the smile.
"Wishful thinking. It's my specialty."
Rory nods.
"We'll be fine."
"Good. G'night." Liz turns to leave for her room.
"Thank you, Liz." Rory says.
"Hey! That's my line." Liz wags her finger at her.
She's at her grandfather's funeral, she faces the casket along with the darkly clad guests but turns to the sound of wind through canopies. Behind them is the terrace of Luke's cabin, once more overgrown with weeds. Her grandfather stands with his back to the gathering, facing the path to the lake, then starts walking it. She hurries after him. It's dusk, and murky under the trees, even as they sway in the wind. The ground is all wet moss and she slips hopelessly after her grandfather's tweeded back. He reaches a hand behind him and she grasps it feeling the force of it lifting her above the lumpy ground. They reach the cool air of the lake. She loses the grip of his hand and he's immediately swallowed by fog rising from the water surface like smoke. She's crying, shaking from the cold. She turns and stumbles back into the woods, into Jess's arms, at once one with darkness, warmth and calm while he conducts the muck away.
She wakes from sobbing softly, even as the pinching in her chest eases. She folds herself into his arms, kissing his clavicle, strange gratitude resounding inside.