The pain, Maria remembered, had once felt as heavy as the boxes they had carried into their first apartment, as sharp as her ex girlfriendâs wit. She remembered it being so overwhelming, so suffocating. Thatâs what it would have been like for me out there, Maria often thinks, now. Suffocating.
âOut there,â was Mariaâs two syllable euphemism for a one syllable word that terrified her: space. Spaceâthe infinite, alien world where Carol had been, while Maria was at home, lost and bitter and angry. And achingly alone.
She didnât feel any resentment or anger of any kind when it came to Carol; she never could. And besides, in this case, she certainly didnât have a reason to. Whatever Maria had been feeling all those years, whatever seemingly impossible struggles she went through, she knew Carol couldnât have been doing much better. Part of Maria was grateful she didnât know where Carol was that whole time, or what she had been doing, because if she had, god knows how much worse life wouldâve been. It wouldnât have only been her pain, it wouldâve been Carolâs too. If she had known Carol was out there, somewhere, not with her? That they were both alone? It wouldâve been unbearable.
When Carol came back, though, Maria went through everything all over again. Except this time, it wasânotablyâworse.
It didnât start out that way, of course. For a few, fleeting seconds, in fact, it was the complete opposite. It was euphoria.
When Maria saw Carol again, after six yearsâsix years of hoping and wishing and giving up and inevitably starting all over againâan inexplicable sensation had whirled through her entire being. The feeling was something that, to this day, Maria struggles to truly characterize or express. The only thing that even comes close to the way she felt on that day, is the way she felt on another, very different day, in the summer of 1984.
That summer was vibrant, it was electrifying; it was karaoke nights that rescued them from distant, trepidatious days. And it had been on a particularly loud, dizzy night, after a particularly long and weary day, that Carol had kissed Maria for the first time. It was that feeling, multiplied by a thousand. A million, even. That was what went rushing through her veins when Carol came back.
âAunty Carol? Mom! Itâs Aunty Carol!â
Monicaâs words felt cruel, at first, like the universe didnât think Maria had suffered enough. But then Maria turned around, and she looked at Carol with her own eyes. Carol held her gaze, and suddenly Maria was the one who wasnât really there. She was in the bathroom of a bar and she was nineteen and it was the end of July, and she had her eyes closed and her back against the door and Carolâs hand on her waist. That was the feeling.
Just as soon as it had been given, the feeling was taken away. It disappeared bluntly, eerily reminiscent of the way Carol had disappeared six years ago.
âIâm not really who you think I am.â
âCruel,â at that point, was an understatement. A pitiful attempt to explain the sense of loss Maria felt, grasping at words that werenât there, because of course they couldnât be there, because god why would anyone create a word for a feeling no one should ever have to feel?
Maria asked herself that over and over. She was riddled with guilt, and she hated herself, and the world, and she couldnât make sense of anything. To feel something other than bliss or gratitude when your person comes back from the deadâit felt like she was committing an act of treason against every god thereâs ever been.
But Maria couldnât help her devastation. Carol was back, yes. She was on Earth and she was alive, but she didnât remember anything. The only person Maria had ever been in love with didnât even know who she was, let alone reciprocate the sentiment. Maria was technically truthful from the start; she did tell Carol that they were best friends, after all. She never lied, she just ... omitted some major details. What else was she supposed to do?
Hey I know you just got back to Earth and youâre pretty shaken up considering the whole you-donât-remember-ninety-percent-of-your-life thing and also you can shoot blasts of energy from your hands now, but we were actually supposed to get married, so, is that still on the table?
Please! Maria could never bring herself to say something like that, not even after Fury and the Skrulls, when life was back to some semblance of normalcy. This would take time. It was still too much to come to terms with.
Today, though, a little over a year after Carol saved the Skrulls, Maria was doing just that. She was past âcoming to termsâ and on her way to healing, actually. She knew Carol had been finding pieces of herself everyday (small pieces, but they fit just the same), and Maria couldnât have been happier for her.
Be that as it may, she wasnât holding out hope for a miracle, anymore. One day, she and Carol had been looking at old photos, which they did all the time. It seemed to bring Carol real comfort, and Maria wanted her to feel safe. Glancing at a photo of the two of them in uniform, making silly faces at the camera, something in Carolâs eyes had flickeredâa spark Maria had desperately hoped meant I remember, Iâm yours.
It didnât. But instead of letting her spirit crumble, (like the Jenga towers they and Monica were always building too high), Maria forced herself to stop feeling so hopeless. It sounds insane, even as she thinks back now, but she managed to heal her deepest wounds in a short few days.
All it took, truly, was a serious shift in her perspective. She had been feeling so cheated, like the universe didnât care about her at all. She felt like she had been cosmically cursed, and she would get so angry. Plenty of days, she wouldnât sleep at all, plagued by nightmares made up of her own memories. Maria was so focused on everything she didnâtâor couldnâtâever have again, that she was so wildly unaware of the gifts she had been given.
At the end of the day, Maria decided, she was just happy, and lucky, to know Carol. She was lucky to have Carol in her life again. Any and everything she might have beyond that was a blessing.
And she did have a lot, in fact. They didnât kiss, or make love, or fall asleep together every night. But they were incredibly close, Monica included; they were a family, if an unconventional one. Maria canât count the number of times sheâs fallen asleep with Monicaâs head in her lap and Carolâs on her shoulder, or the nights Carol has come into her room shaken by a nightmare, and Maria has held her close and stroked her hair and whispered reassurances until her friend fell back asleep.
When you fall in love with someone, and they never hurt youâthings end on good terms, or maybe you never even got together in the first placeâwhen you fall in love like that, itâs so hard to fall out. In the back of your mind, theyâll always be there, hanging around and showing up in your daydreams when you least expect it.
You might move on, you might âget overâ them, in theory, but in practice? If they showed up and asked to be yours, would you say yes?
See, after some serious, and, yesâtearfulâruminating, Maria knew the answer. She knew it would never change. But she also decided she didnât need everything. She didnât need for them to be in love, whatever that even meant, and she didnât want to waste her time on this Earth full of sad feelings. She wanted happy feelings, and she had them.
Forgive me for being a living cliche, Maria had pleaded jokingly, and to no one in particular, but this is more than enough.
As for Carol, she had been getting little pieces of her memory back: a fuzzy vignette of a family road trip she took as a kid, blurry frames of the day she first learned how to ride a bike ...
... A vision of two hands shaking as they interlaced their fingers, a flash of skin on skin and a fire in her stomach whenever she lay next to Maria for too long, a jolt of energy as her lips pressed someone elseâs to the offbeat of loud karaoke in a dark bathroom stall.
Okay, she hadnât told anyoneâshe hadnât told Mariaâabout those last three pieces.
First of all, Carol couldnât even be sure of what was happening in her own mind. She obviously didnât trust herself, or her memories, because she knew they had been toyed with before. And although it was, admittedly, a bit of a stretch to think that would be happening to her again, it felt more like leaps and bounds to think that she and Maria had been .... something.
So, she presumed, the former it must be, then.
Carol shoved all her soft-edged piecesâa label designated for those memories which focused on the two of themâdown and away from the big picture. They didnât fit.
Well, she wasnât sure if they did. She hasnât asked Maria about it. She was far, far too terrified.
Maria had been getting the strangest sense from Carol over the past few weeks. She wanted to ask her what was going on, but she didnât want to make Carol feel bad or uncomfortable. Maria knew it wasnât right, or reasonable, to think of Carol as being so fragile. She was one of the strongest beings in the entire universe; she could handle a question. Or two.
Monica was at school, and Carol and Maria were sitting on the couchâclose enough to touch but decidedly, notâwatching reruns of Charlieâs Angels. An especially irritating commercial interrupted their viewing, leading Carol to quickly press MUTE on the remote.
For a second, Maria was grateful. After all, they had seen this guy drone on about Chevyâs plethora of meaningless awards at least ten times over the past 24 hours alone, and it was annoying. Except, now, the room was unnervingly quiet, save for a faint, steady buzz coming from their refrigerator in the other room. Under different circumstances, Maria wouldnât be bothered at all by this sort of silence. She and Carol were perfectly capable of coping with lapses in conversation; in fact, they enjoyed it. At this exact moment in time, however, the lack of chit-chat was making both of them unusually anxious.
They knew they needed to talk about the way things had been recently. Maria noticed Carol had been keeping more and more to herself, holding her breath whenever Maria got too close. For weeks, Maria had been dying to bring it up, always on the verge of unlocking whatever kept her from saying the things she was thinking, yet always swallowing the key in favor of swallowing her pride.
Now, itâs been unlocked. And thereâs no going back, Maria concluded.
âCarol, is everything okay?â Maria asked. She tried to be nonchalant about it, but you could tell it was anything other than a casual question.
Carol didnât turn to face her, like Maria had expected. She kept her eyes on the television, the bright whites and blues of a new commercial flashing across her face in the dim light.
âYeah? Everythingâs okay.â Carol made eye contact, now. âWhy? Are you okay?â
The first yeah wasnât a lack of conviction on Carolâs part. On the contrary, actually. She seemed confident, like she only made her voice go up in that inquisitive manner in order to ensure that her puzzlement with Maria's inquiry was properly expressed.
âIâm okay,â Maria said slowly, without breaking eye contact. A split second passed, and it was long enough for Maria to change her mind.
Quickly, Maria admitted, âIâm sort of confused, to tell you the truth. Did I do something wrong? I feel like, lately, youâve been acting like, Iâm a ticking time bomb or something. I donât know, Iâm sorry, Iâm probably just being-â
âNo, no itâs okay,â Carol interrupted. She was looking at Maria, but Maria was looking away, as if she could literally see the words she didnât get to say hanging in the air.
âHey,â Carol said, her voice more insistent this time. âLook at me, itâs okay.â Maria looked, her face a picture of relief and confusion. Carol was smiling softly at her.
When Maria didnât ask anything else, Carol knew she had to be the one to clear the air, even if she had approximately zero idea what to say.
Carol plopped her hands down onto her jeans, over the top of her thigh, and audibly took in a breath. Her eyes, like her hands, were on the tattered blue denim she was wearing. She moved her hands up and down her thighs nervously until she stopped at the place she had began, shrugged her shoulders up awkwardly, and then exhaled as she closed her eyes and let the muscles of her upper body fall back into a relaxed position. Her head was still pointed towards their carpeted living room floor.
Maria, chewing her lip in an attempt to tame the beast that was her anticipation, watched as Carol opened her eyes and turned to face her.
As soon as their eyes were locked, Carol started, âIâve kind of been keeping something from you.â She felt the guilt and the worry start to bubble up in her stomach. âIâm really sorry.â
Maria didnât seem shaken. Carol didnât know what to make of that.
Maria just sort of nodded, ever so slightly, and Carol realized this might be more of a monologue situation than she had originally anticipated.
Nevertheless, she continued, âYou know how Iâve been remembering stuff, here and there, and how we always talk about the stuff I remember? Well, I ... well. Thereâs just some memories, or something, that Iâm not so sure about? I mean, Iâm sure Iâm having them, like, Iâm definitely seeing everything, I just donât know if theyâre mine.â
Maria looked horrified. âYou think someone got insideâis, insideâyour head again?â
âI donât know,â Carol said. She felt so awful, making Maria worry like this. She had to come out with it.
âNo, I donât think so,â Carol confessed defeatedly, heaving a sigh. âIâm just making excuses, I guess. Iâm scared, Maria. Promise youâll tell me the truth?â
âThe truth about what? I would never lie to you. You know that. And youâre scaring me. Whatâs going on?â Maria grazed the top of Carolâs hand with the tips of her fingers as she asked that last question, and Carolâs hand sprang up from the couch, startling them both.
âOh god, Iâm sorry, I donât knowâI donât know why I did that,â Carol explained hurriedly, trailing off at the end of her sentence. Maria just stared.
âLook, I-Iâve been having these memories. Of us? Not how we are now but like, us, Maria. Do you know what Iâm talking about?â
If the silence had been a grey cloud before, it was a full blown thunderstorm now.
The look on Mariaâs face was the same look she wore the day Carol arrived in their little suburbia. Carol didnât know if that was a good thing. She wanted it to be. She really, really wanted it to be.
Practically whispering, Maria leaned closer and said, âI ... can youâcan you tell me more?â
Carol swallowed against the lump in her throat.
âYeah, yeah, yes,â she assured. âOkay. Um, thereâs a few. Sometimes, I see two hands trying to hold onto each other. Theyâre both reaching, and shaking, and then they intertwine their fingers ... I wasnât sure what to think of that one. I thought to myself, well that could be anyone. But, thatâs not true.â Carol delivered those details without facing Maria directly. Her eyes were staring off into space, like she was here, with Maria, but she was also somewhere else.
âI know what my own hand looks like,â Carol explained, âI know what yours looks like. I donât know. Iâm just afraid, I guess. I donât know what to believe.â She looked a bit ashamed. âNo, Iâm-Iâm afraid to believe. Iâm afraid.â
Maria lifted her hand off the sofa and reached up to press it against Carolâs left cheek, staying there for a moment, and then gently moving Carolâs face towards her own.
âYou donât have to be afraid, Carol. I promise. Just take a breath, yeah?â Carol nodded, and visibly took the advice. âWhat else have you been seeing?â
Carol began, âI see flashes of something, um.â She felt herself blushing, and she knew Maria would notice. It only made her skin hotter.
âYeah?â Maria encouraged her to continue.
âYou know how you said youâve been feeling like, well, that I've been making you feel like, a âticking time bomb?â I think-â
âIâm sorry,â Maria cut her off. âIâm sorry I said that, I didnât mean to make you feel guilty-â
Carol didnât let her finish. âNo, no itâs okay. Thatâs not whatâno. Itâs okay.â She beamed at Maria, hoping to hammer home the statement, which was one hundred percent genuine.
Then, she continued, âItâs just, Iâve been seeing us in bed. Together.â She sighed, and looked at Maria.
âWeâre notâin the memories weâre notâwe arenât ... sleeping.â
By now, the tension was mounting, although it wasnât necessarily uncomfortable. It just felt like a precursor to something inevitable, something important. Maria did have a bit of a knowing smile on her face, but she also looked hesitant, like she desperately wanted to do something and at the very same time was petrified by what that something might be.
Well, love conquers fear, as they say.
While their gazes were both locked onto each other, Maria leaned in and kissed Carol, quite quickly, on the mouth.
It seemed as though the act was over in less than an instant, and yet every instant they had left on this Earth had now been forever changed. The trajectory of their lives was finally back on track.
Apparently, Carol didnât exactly appreciate the moment being so brief. She kissed Maria again, and unlike her friend, she didnât show much restraint. Her hands were in Mariaâs hair in less time than it had taken her to mute that commercial, and Maria had her knuckle in the loop of Carolâs blue jeans.
Between kisses, Carol mumbled something along the lines of, âHey, this is just like that night at the karaoke bar.â
Maria pulled back instantly, her eyes wide.
âYou remember that?â Maria asked, her voice full of wonder and awe.
Carol grinned. âYeah, babe. Itâs been the only show on the Carol Danvers channel,â she said, tapping her index finger against her temple, âfor, like, the past month.â
Immediately, the room was filled with the sound of Mariaâs laughter, then Carolâs too, and, eventually, another silence.
This silence wasnât intimidating. It wasnât a storm, no. It was the clouds slowly dissipating, the way they do right before the sun comes back out to say hello.
Both of their eyes were sparkling, their faces glowing and their hair lightly tousled. They looked like they couldâve been in a commercial themselves: âcouple waking up and drinking coffee together in their pajamas,â or something.
It was Maria who spoke first.
âSo,â she began âweâre ... us, again?â
Carol let the question bounce around in her mind for a few moments.
âI canât believe we ever stopped being us, Maria. Letâs not let it happen again, okay? Youâre my person. Always.â
Carol laced their fingers together. Another memory come true.
âIf I remember correctly, we have one more memory to relive, donât we?â Maria teased.
With a disapproving click of her tongue, Carol replied, âRambeau, always with your mind in the gutter.â
Maria rolled her eyes.
âOkay okay!â Carol said, âIâm just kidding. Come here, my love.â
Maria was smiling so wide her cheeks hurt, and at any other moment with anyone else in the world, she wouldâve been thinking about something incredibly ridiculous, like whether or not her smile made her look unattractive. Right now, here, with the girl she's loved since she was nineteen? She couldnât have cared less.