AN: And now we hit the crux of it—mentioned way back in chapter 1, this is where it really started. It might sting a little.
—∞—
I remember the morning well. I kissed Elsa goodbye, and her lips lingered against mine as if she was reluctant to end the moment. I know I was. She had on a slight hint of perfume, and it always made me think of winter. I didn't bother with perfume—What I do for a living made it rather pointless. Also, she said I had the scent of summer just being nearby. I liked that; she liked the way I smelled. I kissed her again, but she gently pushed me away.
"Anniken, you will make me late."
"Sorry." I lied. She saw right through it, smiling back at me. "I'll see you this afternoon, Elsa."
She waved to me, then stepped out the door. I sat back down to finish my toast, reading something in the paper. My phone rung. Kristoff. Work was cancelled for the day. We had been supposed to rip out an old depal machine at Naveen's so we could move an entire line to his new plant, but it turns out he'd decided he wanted it scrapped instead. Kristoff was now working on a quote for that, and as Maurice and Audrey could handle things at the workshop, I could have the day off. He may also have hinted that I should be spending this extra free time with someone I liked.
I hung up, my cheeks warm, thinking about what he'd said. I was a little disappointed about the lack of activity, but I had a sudden flash of inspiration. I would make a quick trip, and buy something special for Elsa. It would be an awesome surprise to come home to. Well, at least a little something to remember. I also bought a cheap video camera because I wanted to record her reaction to the gift.
Even back then the mall was pretty large. I wasn't quite sure what to get Elsa as a gift. Something nice, yes, but I also had no idea of what an appropriate amount to spend on it would be. That said, I had a lot of money. While I'd been with Hans, most of my money was being saved. What for, I don't know, I just saved it. Turned out I was rich. Not in the fabulously wealthy sense, but for a while I could have had every luxury imaginable. I tossed that idea out quickly. I would much rather have been happy than rich anyway.
It caught my eye as I walked past one of the more upmarket jewellery shops. Hanging there on a pure white bust, my mind immediately wandered to what it would look like against Elsa's pale skin. That was when I knew I had to have it—for her. A pendant on a fine sliver chain. Six pale blue gems surrounded a central setting, and finely wrought silver filigree tapered out to narrow points on the design. A perfect snowflake, sterling silver and aquamarine studs. It was pricey, and I stepped out of the store for a minute to re-check my balance.
Okay, it wouldn't really dent it, but I had to wonder what Elsa would think. She would know—or at least be able to guess—how expensive it was. I let out a breath, returning to the store.
"I'll take it."
"It will look dazzling on you."
"It's for a friend." I do not know why I was blushing.
"A very lucky friend," the sales clerk finished packing the pendant and chain into a small jewellery box as she spoke. "Should she decide that this, for some reason, is not for her, then I must tell you that she is mad." I only just caught the wink.
"No returns?"
The clerk smiled as she handed me the receipt on top of the jewellery box. "We take all sorts of returns,. Some people can be truly finicky about their mode of adornment. Barring strange voodoo curses; we can process a return for just about any reason."
"Thank you," I left with a smile, not really paying attention to the fact the entire transaction had been conducted over a mass of rings. My subconscious had noticed. All through lunch—which I decided to have out on a whim—I thought about ring patterns and stones and what all of it meant. I thought about Elsa. I liked her. Loved her. She was more special than she knew. I wondered if that meant I loved her enough to… one day. One day, I promised myself. If things went well over—hell, how long did it have to be?
Eventually, just sitting at the table after finishing lunch, I came to my decision. I would place a ring over one of those slender fingers, and she would do the same for me. It would happen in due time. And if it didn't? I shrugged; I would be richer for having loved her. I never knew then how much something like that would mean to her—not the rings, the other thing. I made my way home by taxi. Not being able to use my license outside of work was annoying, but I could live with it. I didn't go out much in the first place, and on occasion Kristoff would collect me in the van as the team was driving to site.
Back home I pulled out the steps to the attic, the creaking sounding vaguely ominous in the darkness above. It was mostly empty up there, just a few old boxes of junk we'd never gotten around to throwing out, some old writing of mine, and cobwebs. Dusty cobwebs. I gave one end a quick clean and then hid Elsa's present in a box there. I planned to fetch it when she got home later—but I kept the video camera downstairs, because I wanted to record everything.
I set the camera up on a side table in the front hall. I'd just heard something pull up out front, and figured it had to be her. It was, but watching from the window that woman could not have been less like Elsa if she'd tried. I saw her stagger from the back seat of the taxi, putting a hand out to steady herself. I watched as she stayed hunched over, taking deep breaths, slowly standing upright, back straight. Her hands ran through frazzled hair—she patted down some flyaways and rearranged her braid so it hung over her shoulder. She winced when she took that first step towards the door—our door—and I wanted so bad to run outside and help her, but something told me that this was something I wasn't meant to be seeing. That was why she was doing it outside, away from me.
Still hiding her problems. Why? Why was she hiding from me? Was this the reason she kept pushing me away? A deep-seated anger flared inside of me, something that had been simmering so long I hadn't even noticed it. The question wasn't why she was hiding all this pain—it was why she was hiding it from me. We were friends, possibly more. I deserved the truth—I wanted to help her. I never once thought that she might not have wanted to be helped. I forgot all about the camera.
I almost forgot my argument too, when she walked in, the picture of casual grace, my gaze wandering to her breasts. The things she did to that shirt were probably illegal in seven states, and frowned upon in rather more. I shook my head; anger giving me courage to speak after welcoming her home.
"Elsa," she frowned at my tone. I can't say I really blamed her. "Why do you keep pushing me away?"
"Like this morning?" she brushed it off. "I said, you would make me late."
"No, I mean like our first date—and I know I was the one that ruined it but you changed so suddenly and it kinda hurt and I don't know why."
"You asked me about something I didn't want to talk about, Anniken."
"I know." I looked her straight in the eye. "I asked why you jumped in front of me."
I saw the darkness gathering behind those orbs of crystal blue. She was still shutting me out. Still didn't want to tell me what was really going on.
"Why?" I pressed. "Why try and kill yourself?"
"Anna, I don't want to talk about this." She turned to leave, retreating down the hall. My hand caught her arm and she whirled, standing terrifyingly close. "Don't ask again!"
"Fine." I wasn't quite shouting, but it was emphatic enough. "Then how about our date at the cafe, you didn't want to string two words together."
"I had a bad day—is that so hard to understand?!"
"Not if you'd told me!"
"I—No. Thi—"
"What?!" I leaned as close as I dared, staring her down—standing on tiptoe to do so. "What aren't you telling me, miss Frostad?"
"I'm leav—"
"No!" Even I was surprised how loud my voice was. "Not until you tell me. What about dinner? What about in front of Kristoff? What about that dance?"
I stared her down, anger burning in my heart. My God did I want the truth—and just like always, she refused to tell me. I saw how her eyes hardened and her lips set in that grim line. She was locking everything up inside so I'd never know. I didn't care what her stupid secret was, I just wanted to know. To know if it was me. If I was the reason everything was going wrong. Even the realisation that what I was doing was so horribly wrong and selfish didn't stop me uttering those fateful words. I knew exactly what she'd been doing—and why. I just wanted her to admit it. She was already trying to walk away. I didn't reach out to her—I shouted at her back.
"Elsa!" She turned to face me, eyes brimming with tears. "Why do you keep shutting me out!"
That look—Just, that look she gave me. All that hurt, and need, and guilt. I saw it all. I could almost see it as those walls crumbled, blasted aside by my anger; my quest for the truth. It was like she was empty inside, and my words were what finally hollowed her out. She stepped closer, her face so intense I couldn't read it anymore. I shied back, afraid she would actually hit me. It had already happened once. She moved closer still, her body falling limp. She all but keeled over on top of me, and it took a great effort to keep both of us up. I staggered back, knocking the camera off the side table. I wobbled the other way, back towards the side of the stairs, because thin though Elsa was, she was still no featherweight.
Struggling to hold us both up, my anger gave way to guilt and shame—but not quite quickly enough. I said something I knew I would regret forever.
"What are you so afraid of?" Laced so heavily with anger, it was hard to know how she caught any of the concern I'd meant to put in that. Maybe she felt it more, seeing my own guilty tears. I felt like I'd just ruined everything we never had. I definitely didn't expect her to lean closer. I didn't even expect an answer. I wasn't even sure I'd heard it at first, a soft breeze against my ear, a whisper beyond sound. She hiccoughed, tears falling slowly down her cheeks, and her words changed everything.
"Dying." There was a sharp gasp that I didn't even realise was my own. "Anna… I–I never wanted to hurt you."
She slid down the wall, spent, empty, her voice a hoarse whisper. I sat heavily next to her, hot tears of shame and regret coursing down my cheeks. It all made so much sense. It all made sense, and I hated it. She wanted to protect me—from loving her. Why would she ever think she needed to do something like that? I pulled her into a tight hug, resting my chin on her shoulder as we both wept for an uncertain future. The sudden honesty hurt most of all. Even if I'd known from the start, nothing would have changed—I was in that deep. The anger had gone; I no longer cared about why—but she answered anyway.
"I have cancer."
I never wanted to hear those words. Her saying it made it real. It was impossible to process, I just sat there looking blankly at the wall behind her. Pieces started falling into place. The hospital visits, her light weight, the suicide attempt that had started all this, trying to push me away by turns; it hurt so much that I understood why. I couldn't say a word. My voice was gone. I hated myself for forcing all this on her. Forcing her to reveal everything. But there were two more words that would shatter my soul, even though I knew they had to be coming. An unwanted truth powerful enough to destroy me. Someone else once tried that out of fear. I'd almost done that to someone out of spite. It felt so, so much worse as a result of love. I already knew why she was dying from the cancer.
Her honest words made it all too real, and for a long time after she was the only thing I could cling to.
"It's incurable."
Two hours later and all we'd managed to do was make our way to the couch—her couch. Elsa sat stiffly at one end, I lay with my head in her lap so she could see the shame and remorse writ large upon my face. She stroked my hair to calm me, and I clung to her as if letting go meant we would both drown. I wasn't ready to let go. I wasn't ready to face the truth. So I just lay there, eyes closed, as Elsa's fingers ran through my hair. I wished there was something more I could do—anything. Anything at all. There was nothing. Neither of us felt like food. I don't even think we felt… anything. It was too shocking, and I simply couldn't process it. When I opened my eyes for a brief snatch of light, I saw how hard she was struggling to hold it together.
"Don't," I whispered.
She looked down at me, confused. I closed my eyes, still barely trusting my voice.
"You don't have to be strong for me, Isabella."
"I… I'm sor–sorry," she spoke quietly, voice breaking.
"No," I whispered back, shaking my head. "I…" I couldn't finish it. I couldn't apologise for being a horrible person. A powerful sob wracked my body as another realisation struck me. Something about her, and her career. A rising star that would just… vanish. Everyone would forget about her. It would be like she'd never been there at all. Which was what she'd wanted at the start. I hated that thought, hated the truth of it. She'd tried to kill herself because she was afraid of hurting other people. Had she thought nothing of the person driving—what would her death have done to another driver?
I rolled over, sobbing and mumbling into her lap about the unfairness of it all. Somehow, she understood every word, running a hand down my back, comforting me. Me. She was the one who was dying, and I was the one that needed more comforting. Some friend I was. She caught that too, whispering a tearful reassurance to me. She made a promise—we could be sad now, and later we could be happy, or angry, or… I don't remember. I just remember how much she kept stressing we. Not me, not I, not her; we. She was just as committed to me as I was to her.
Even after that fight she wanted to stay with me. I really was an idiot. Slowly, needing a lot more energy than I thought, I managed to roll over and face her. I smiled up at her, and she smiled down at me. We shifted slightly, and kissed through the tears. This was what love was. I'd never felt it before, and I've never felt it stronger than I did then. I knew—knew in my soul—that she loved me; and I loved her. Only death would break that bond, and we would fight it as long as we could. But in the end I would have to let go.
I never figured out how.
