V. This is What a Period in a Story Feels Like
https://youtu.be/91kXSOu8bOo
It’s like heartburn, like epigastric pain creeping up from the pit of her stomach all the way up to her chest. She didn’t come home last night. She didn’t come home…
She keeps staring at the shadows on the ceiling, counting them one by one and hoping it’ll get lighter. The silence from the house doesn’t really help but amplify the thoughts that keep coming back, because who was she kidding? She can’t really not think about Lisa at this point. That’s all she ever thinks about when she’s not busy trying to distract herself with work. With anything. Her.
Lisa. Lisa. Lisa.
It’s well past midnight. She turns away from staring at the ceiling and buries her face into the pillows on Lisa’s side of the bed. It’s cold and empty, her scent no longer there. For a minute she hesitates at the thought but it’s in her nature to give in eventually when it comes to Lisa even if it’s something she hates admitting to herself, so she gives in to the simple pleasure of running her hands along the sheets, across the space where she knows Lisa would’ve taken up. She feels like moving, getting up, doing something, moving, removing herself from whatever this swampy feeling is, but her body doesn’t seem to coordinate with her thoughts, and her wants, and her needs. She pushes herself up and drags her feet downstairs. Her vision is blurred and out of place for some reason, she thinks she needs to pull her shit together. Maybe she could do the dishes in the meanwhile or something.
She jerked awake either from a nightmare, she can’t recall, or from the ringing of her phone a little past dawn to realize she’d fallen asleep on the floor next to the couch and wince at the pain in the muscles of her neck. She reaches for a pillow and rests her head on it, shutting her eyes a little too forcefully, hoping that it’s enough to get her to forget about the phone call that morning. Not that it’s something she’s not used to by now.
“Yeah, I uh... fell asleep on my desk last night.”
Her voice sounded a little too gruff, and Jennie thinks it’s because she just woke up.
“Oh, are you...are you fine?”
“Yeah, I’m...I’m fine…look, I’ll go grab breakfast in a bit.” she says the last word with a bit of bite that cuts off whatever it was Jennie was about to say.
She added she’d probably be late today, too. Again. It pushes onto the heaviness in her chest that makes every breath she lets out end up coming out as a sigh, the thought that she’s getting used to it. The air’s suffocating, and the more she breathes the more she feels sucked into and exhausted. Maybe she shouldn’t breathe at all.
“Don’t bother waiting.” “Don’t bother waiting.” “Don’t bother waiting….” is all that echoes in her head. It’s a good idea to bake.
She goes for the kitchen and straight for the overhead cabinets where they keep most of the ingredients. It's automatic, how her body moves without much thinking and how she manages to take everything there on to the kitchen counter.
It comes to her naturally, and she goes through the mundane notions of baking on autopilot. She’s done this countless times before. The steady routine, the idea ...that she knows what needs to be done, or what happens next, and that in this there are no surprises. It’s that thought that grounds her. That she has full control over something, or does she... really?
There’s a lot of things she can’t understand right now, and she hates how everything just seems to weigh down on her. She wasn’t stupid, but a huge part of her seems to think that way because how can she go through all of this? She’s been going through day to day to day living like she’s not really there at all, because how can you be, when a huge part of yourself is missing? When there’s just too much inside that sometimes she wonders why can’t she be enough? She doesn’t really realize soon enough how she’s kneading the dough a little too roughly. How in this state, time doesn’t seem to flow in the way it should and the next thing she knows she has mounds of cookies everywhere and that she’s crying and she doesn’t even know why. Or maybe… maybe she knows, or she– She really doesn’t want to know. She’s spreading flour all over and she’s wiping at her face with her arms and she’s just so tired.
She’s distracted by the rather loud noise of the key bunch and the door being thrown open. Lisa spares her a fleeting glance and utters an inaudible “Hey” while removing her steps away toward the bedroom and Jennie sinks deeper, and deeper until she’s physically sinking too. Then Lisa’s startled by her loud squeak as the tray burns her finger.
“What even...” She sprints ahead, unamused and irritated, throwing her bag somewhere on top of the cookies, and inspecting Jennie’s finger. The touch is weird, foreign if Jennie weren’t too afraid of the word.
“Oh my god, Jennie, where’s your mind,” she says casually, taking the ring off her finger like an omen to the future, rummaging the cabinets for the ointment.
“Does it hurt?” Yes comes off immediately; not a reply to what Lisa meant.
“Gosh, let’s hold it under water—” she drags her hand under the tap a little too hastily.
“It’s okay—”
“It’s not okay.”
Are they talking about something else?
Lisa stops in her tracks after doing her thing with the bandaging, while her eyes wander from the pile of cookies on the kitchen counter to her pained face, and kind of stays there for a second. She has this mundane expression on her face that pains Jennie even further. She announces she’s tired and is gonna take a shower then work some more.
Jennie stays there, unmoving, eyes on Lisa's back, silently asking for her to stay. Something shaky falls off from her lips and she's biting off another wave of tears that are clouding her vision. Her voice comes out a quiver and she’s uttering something incoherent, what might’ve been words tumbling out one after the other before she tries to take it back with a sharp intake of breath.
It could've been a couple of minutes or more, she's not sure. She knows the cookies have gone cold by now and the burn on her finger was stinging the more she picked on the edges of the bandage wrapped around it. She chanced a glance up at the hallway, not really bothering to keep the sigh from escaping anymore. Knowing she's probably not going to see her soon.
Her steps are heavy and silent on the carpeted floors. Slow, dragged steps that are tentative because a huge part of her wants to, and yet deep down there’s that stupid fear that pulls on her not to. To just stay there in the kitchen and for once just leave Lisa be, but she’s stubborn and when has she ever given up on this?
She hears whispers on the other side of their bedroom door and the lights were kept low. It almost feels as if Lisa’s hiding and maybe she is? Maybe she’s just too tired too. Jennie peeks through the cracks of the door and sees Lisa’s hunched up frame. Jennie doesn’t miss the look of weariness that’s there. She knows, she always knows. She knows Lisa more than she knows herself and wonders how maybe that’s a bad thing. Because right now, despite how she’s tired, she sees something else in Lisa’s eyes that’s never been there in months.
It’s like tearing a page off a book, it’s .. it’s something Jennie doesn’t have the words to, because how can you describe something that breaks you into pieces? It’s suffocating, how she’s drowning internally and how no matter how hard she tries to even out her breathing it doesn’t help. It doesn’t. She takes a step back and hits her arm against the edge of a wall table and it’s jarring how she doesn’t even flinch at the impact. There’s a small smile on Lisa’s face that she hasn’t seen in so long. The softness of it is made more pronounced by the light from her phone and it’s more than enough to throw Jennie’s whole world off kilter.
She just turns around and heads back downstairs. They have tequila in the cabinet. Now’s a good time.
It looks like she pushes the alcohol out of her system through her eyes by now. They stream and stream and don’t seem to stop anytime soon and the sight of the cookies in front of her just seems to make it worse and worse, and worse. With one swift move of her hand, the cookie mound lands in the trash can. She stands there, in the middle of the kitchen, looking at the mess. The mess around her and the mess inside. Her thoughts are overpouring by now and so takes her coat and slams the door behind her.
It’s been about two hours now, and Lisa feels dehydrated. The thought of getting up from the bed and walking all the way to the kitchen for a glass of water seems to be the universe’s worst design. It’s only when the water’s pouring into her glass that she notices something odd around her. She’s never seen the place so messy. Oh, and Jennie’s nowhere to be found? Not on the couch reading? Not dusting the place? Not cooking something? Not pulling the curtains together? Not switching the lights off? That’s very odd, too. She decides on calling after checking the bathroom but only gets the dull tone of the static. Maybe she went for an evening walk to get some fresh air… She usually tells her though, or at least leaves a note on the fridge? Wait, is there a note? There isn’t. Maybe she forgot. Maybe she really needed that time alone for herself. She convinces herself and goes about her business. It’s another half an hour later that she tries to give it another shot. No reply. Is this when she should get worried? Her thoughts don’t coordinate. Jennie’s an adult tho. She can go out and do whatever she wants? The bed upstairs doesn’t seem comfortable for work anymore. So she shifts to the kitchen counter: the closest to the door. And work doesn’t seem to go that well either, but she tries her best. She’s almost as if pulled out of her trance when the phone rings.
“Lisa?”
“Yeah, who is it?”
“It’s Wendy, erm, I work at Midnight Delights ?”
“Oh. Yeah, hi Wendy, how’s it going at the bar?”
“Uhm, it’s going fine? Lisa? I got your number from the list of best customers…”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, anyway. Jennie’s here—”
“Oh god, I was getting worried already... Did she come to give away cookies or what...” she forces a chuckle, all annoyed.
“No, not at all. She’s completely out of it by now. I thought I should call cause it doesn’t seem right at all… Weren’t you her wife or somethi — ”
“What do you mean?” Her eyes suddenly register the open bottle of alcohol right next to her.
“I mean I’d say she’s trashed but it looks worse? She’s all red in the face, and swollen, and has a hard time breathing? I asked Irene to sit by he—”
“What did she drink.”
“Uhm, I think wine mostly? And some—”
“Oh my god, she what?”
Beat .
“She’s sulfite intolerant, Wendy, please stay by her, I’ll be there in ten.”
Oh, fuck . Oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck. Why would she even— fuck. Oh gosh the pills, where the fuck are the pills. Where’s the key. Oh fuck. Whatever.
She leaves the door open for this one.
Her eyes go round with shock when she catches her at the farther corner, away from the crowds. She’s never seen her like this, in what, 5 years time? Since the moment they’ve found out about it. Jennie was always mindful about how dangerous this could get. She manages to yank herself from stupor and gets the pills ready.
“What even, Jennie. What’s wrong with you?” she focuses on her eyes for a second, she really wants to understand. “Irene, water please.”
“Oh? Lisa’s here. You came after me? How did you know I was here” She’s completely out of it, as she was told.
“Are you for real? You don’t even like to drink.”
“You remember what I like and what I don’t?”
“I’ll leave you guys alone I guess…”
“No, thanks for taking care of her, Irene, I really appreciate it. Tell that to Wendy too. We’ll go now, sorry for the... The whole thing.”
“Are you sure she’s gonna be fine?”
“Yeah, no. I mean she won’t be fine instantly, but the pills will help. She shouldn’t have—”
“Take care of her.” With that, she leaves.
“No.”
“What no?”
“I won’t be fine.” She smiles “I won’t be fine at all, Lisa.”
“It’s okay, let’s go now.” She manages to help her out through the crowd, but she stops in her place.
“I really won’t be fine, Lisa.” She’s still smiling but her voice is broken and for a moment, Lisa feels like something has just crashed into tiny little sharp particles inside her as well and it’s cutting her within, like she’s bleeding internally.
There's a dead silence between them, while they're standing there, in the dancing crowd and they're just looking at each other. There’s discord in Lisa’s head. She doesn’t seem to grasp anything. She grabs her hand "let's go" and Jennie squeaks in pain at the burnt finger.
“Oh shoot I'm so— You’ll be fine, I’m so sor—”
Jennie doesn’t know what demon pushes her up to it. She’ll forever hate that demon for the rest of her life, it’s what she knows to be a constant. But that's where she kisses her.
A lonely tear escapes her swollen eyes while she's still at it. She lingers a bit, to make sure. Then she crashes against her, hiding her face away, arms tightly holding on to Lisa’s neck. This is what a period in a story feels like.