It's late on Sunday night, but I'm not even tired. Sated, but not tired. Kristoff's next to me, and I'm thinking I might have worn him out a bit too. We were… attempting gymnastics, I'm gonna say. Also playing dress-up, among other things. Honestly, it's been too long since we've done anything like this. Part of me wonders what Cass might make of it. You, though, I don't have to wonder at all. I said once that I'm forgetting some of what went on between us—the little, normal things. But telling Joan our story, it's bringing so much back. A lot of emotion. And that's okay. We both had big feelings. And little feelings. And hands-y feelings too, yes. I still remember, and it makes me smile.
I told you it would be worth it. Every second. I also told you that the pain might kill me, and once or twice that was nearly true. You showed me I didn't have to suffer alone. I helped you, but I couldn't see anyone helping me the same way—because all my pain was inside, even if it did make sense. But people did help me. Found me. Lifted me back up. Rode in that ambulance with me. I know I promised you it would never happen, but that day—night—it just hit me like a truck. I couldn't see a way out of that emptiness. I saw Dr Spiros again for a while after that. He helped me through it, but it was your letter that really brought me back. Gave me something I could truly live for. I want to tell Joan about this stuff, but I'm afraid of how she might take it. It's also really out of order, and I am trying so very hard to keep this properly ordered for you—because I know you were a stickler for details like that.
Like I said, I'm not tired—it's not super-energy like I used to be, but it's not sleeplessness either. I have energy left to burn, and I need to do something. But pretty much everything I can think of is going to wake someone up. I flip the pillow over from behind me and scream my frustration into it. That, at least, doesn't wake up anyone who wasn't already awake. I'm trying to think of something useful—or at least constructive—that I could do right now. And suddenly I'm thinking about letters, and my ancient attempts at calligraphy for that birthday invitation I made you. Okay, so writing a letter probably won't use all my extra energy, but it'll certainly make me think, at least—hey. Very funny.
I shuffle out of bed and pull on some fluffy pants. I am not going to freeze my ass off while I sit here thinking about what to write. Well sort of thinking, because it's been almost a decade since the last time I did this properly. Wrote more than a card to commemorate your birthday. All those letters, so carefully ordered, on that small mantel shelf in the crypt. Yes, yes, I know all the arguments we had about that too. But after I saw what you'd done with your money in your will, I felt like you really did need to be recognised, somehow. I'll probably wind up there someday too, and maybe we'll be together again. I hope we will.
Sniffling a little, I put the pen down. I really haven't written much, but all that energy is gone. I wander back to bed, shuffling around under the covers, and wrap my arms around Kristoff as I try to drift off. I dream of you, and us. All three of us, just… happy. I have to wipe away wistful tears when I wake, because I know it was only a dream. Sometimes I wish you'd haunt me properly, like you kept threatening you would. I have our pictures, and our few precious videos, but it's not the same as having you. I think Joan's picking up on my feelings here too—or is realising just how special you were, asking if you'd approve about certain things, or if she's good enough. She is, but there's just that nagging doubt, y'know?
It's a school day today anyway—the snow wasn't that heavy, much to Joan's disappointment, I'm sure. I glance at the clock while I'm getting dressed. Ten… ish. Probably a good day to go shopping actually. Food is getting a bit down, and there's some other supplies I need to pick up. Oh, and a couple of other other things for when we figure out how and 'why' we're inviting Cass over. Those won't be at the supermarket though. Okay, yeah, I am kind of excited by the idea of a threesome with another woman. Way back before I met you, I never thought I'd have lesbian tendencies. Or be bi. Honestly, though, I think the trendy term these days is heteroflexible. I'm mostly attracted to men, and a few exceptional women.
For some reason it feels like I'm distracting myself. I'm dressed, and moving downstairs to grab a quick breakfast before heading out. I've got the list—on my phone, and on paper, just in case I somehow forget one of them again. So, after some toast and a cup of hot chocolate, I'm heading out, driving to the shops in the car. It's been a while since a I drove this thing, actually. I drive the van often enough, and ride my bike occasionally, but I just don't really use the car.
Pulling into an empty space outside the shop I realise why I haven't driven this too much recently—we've been letting Joan use it to get to school. For the past week or so, however, Tina has been picking her up and dropping her off. Tina seems to be about as good a driver as Joan, so I'm not really too worried. Anyway, I grab the shopping list, my rolled up shopping bags, and then a trolley from the front of the shop. It's too cold in the shop itself, and I swear it's deliberately done to annoy people like me. My phone chimes with a message tone as I'm picking out some carrots. It's Cass.
What up, Firebird? Need
me to pick up anything
for our 'meeting'?
There's a bunch of emojis, and an attachment. I glance at the preview, and open it anyway. She does look nice, pulling on that bra. Very athletic. I close the message quickly, pocketing my phone. I can reply later, and if I'm at home, I can reply in kind as well. Assuming that was what she wanted when she sent me that.
Back to shopping, and just slowly crossing items off the list. Bread and milk. Cereals. Jam, peanut butter, sauces. Laundry stuff. Also, batteries—for… things. And of course I swing past the bakery section last, because that way it's fresher when I get back to the car, and it won't get squished by everything else in the trolley. Just as I'm considering grabbing a third pastry—or donut—or lamington, for Kristoff—my phone goes off again. It's Belle.
Hi you, we found a new
place for Adam to stay,
are U & K still helping
with move. 1 week,
maybe 2, is ok?
I stare at the text for a moment. I have a vague memory of offering the van if someone wanted to move into a kind of split-living arrangement. And that was—crap, a month ago. At least. We really haven't spoken since—and hey, idea. Invite everyone around for dinner, including Cass, do the meet and greet, and have Cass just stay a little later. And yeah, I will have to tell Joan, eventually. Although, maybe having her figure it out on her might be entertaining, just see how long it takes… No. I'm better than that. Mostly, thank you very much.
Through the checkout, and load everything into the car. Grocery shopping is just—well, not boring, just… mundane. Everyone does it, and it only stands out today because I'm thinking of shopping at other places. I'm also kind of thinking about gag gifts, but that's not really appropriate for a fifteen year old. Part of me is also thinking that if she asks, I should be honest about what I've got. Yeah, my mind is all tangled up right now, but you know what I'm like when I get excited. Come on, admit it—if you'd got to my age you'd be tempted too, right?
Checking everything in the boot is stacked right, or at least not going to fall over too easily, I close it and then put the trolley away before making the drive home. The snow's only light today, but that brings its own dangers, and I have to keep my eyes firmly ahead. Aside from passing a minor fender-bender, the drive home is pretty uneventful. I'm actually more concerned about lunch, after putting the groceries away that is. And not really watching anything on TV, I start to wonder if I really need to go out again. Cass did offer to pick things up, after all.
And I have to talk to Belle. I text her, making sure she's not in class first. She calls me instead.
"Hi Anna," her voice is bright. "It's been a while."
"It has," I admit, a little embarrassed. "That's my fault."
"I've missed your energy at the park."
I sigh. "Work, life, it's just been… busy."
"I understand," she laughs softly. "Exams have kept me busy for the last month, maybe more. I'm on holiday now, actually, until the end of January."
"And of course a holiday, in the snow, is the best time to move furniture."
She laughs again. "Come on, Anna, you know it's not like that."
"I know, I know," I shake my head, smiling. "And yes, me and Kristoff can help, provided most of it fits in a single trailer."
"We're actually only moving a few things." She pauses, then clarifies. "Adam got a line on some old surplus gear, beat up, but durable. He doesn't mind roughing it for a bit until he can make some more money for nicer furniture. Oh, and our, ah… 'combat therapy' is going well. Officially it's just self-defense classes. We use it on each other if Adam has an episode. He even joked we should have scorecards for technique. That's a good sign, right?"
"If it's keeping you both safe, and unhurt, it's not a bad thing. I mean, humour is my primary coping mechanism, which you probably know too well."
"I do. Unhurt is… well, we're working on it. Adam's prosthetics are powerful—" she sucks in a breath "—but the last one was kinda my fault."
I frown. Even though I know she can't see it. "Are you okay?"
"Umm… not me." I'm wondering why she sounds sheepish. If it's what I think…
"Please don't tell me the shower was involved again."
Her laughter is so rich. "No, no, not this time. Wrestling, fell off the couch, knees and elbows everywhere. Somehow got stuck in my sweater, and when he realises and comes back, trying to help me, I've just managed to untangle myself—and bam! I'm just glad the doctors know us, and how we're trying to resolve this."
"Yeah, I could see that going badly."
"So, moving furniture, probably some time next week, okay?"
"Sure." I remember the other plan I had. "Would you two like to come over for dinner sometime in the next couple of weeks?"
"Absolutely." I can just imagine her smile. "I still haven't stolen all your husband's recipes yet, have I?"
"No, no you haven't. Oh, and there'll probably be other guests too."
"Early Christmas party?"
"I guess." I have a quick think about other events. "And we've got the masquerade on Friday night. Tradition demands Kristoff and me go to that one as a couple. I got an awesome mask this year too."
"You'll have to show me at the dinner party."
"I will, don't worry—just remind if you have to, 'kay?"
"Will do. Text me details on dinner when you figure it out please."
"I'll let you know."
"Thanks, bye Anna."
And now I'm planning a dinner party in my head, adding Adam, Belle, and Cass to the guest list. I'm wondering if there's anyone else we should invite… maybe make it a work get together, plus friends and family. Cara, maybe. Audrey, Maurice. Gathering everyone in one place might be a bit difficult, but it's Christmas. We should be able to work something out. I open the planner on my phone, and see what we've got arranged for next week. Thursday seems about right—we can always have Friday free at work if we need it. Perks of sleeping with the boss, right?
I text Cass first, so she knows about our 'cover story', as it were. Then all the others. Thursday might be an odd night, but it is going to be a week before Christmas, and that means most people should be getting some annual leave, or starting their holidays early. A couple of weeks after that, and it'll be the new year. Another year without you, but where I've found all the help I need to raise our daughter. And I feel like I'm growing closer to you again just by telling your story. The ending might hurt more than anything, but that ending is also the start of someone else's story. A story I hope you're hearing as I tell her your story.
