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Her name is Marlene McKinnon, and for the first time in two months and four days, she stands on dark tan sand belonging to the shore of a black-watered lake. Behind her, is grass tall enough to tickle her stomach when she wears crop tops, and green enough to stain her white shorts every time she endures the hike to get to the lake. The hike is beautiful, and long, and it leads to a place so difficult to find it’s only ever been discovered by two girls. Two girls who visit every week. On the other side of the lake are sparkling, dark green pine trees, and the top of the small mountain that covers this place from a campsite on the other side of the peak. It is her spot, hers and the person she loved the most in the world. The lake is a place that mirrors who Marlene really is, a place she fell in love with, and a place where she realized she was in love with Dorcas Meadowes.
Dorcas Meadowes, who ran through the tall grass in her white lace sundress and never got a stain on it. Dorcas, who would kick her sandals off, stand ankle deep in the water and kiss Marlene. Dorcas, who would turn to look at Marlene and smile, so beautifully it all happened in slow motion and stored itself into Marlene’s memory for hers to keep forever. Dorcas, who loved Marlene right back and would walk to the lake every Saturday morning, and stay until it got dark because it was their beautiful place, and it would forever be special.
Dorcas Meadowes, who died two months and three days ago in a car accident that wasn’t her fault. It was a stupid, stupid driver too drunk to understand why his car wasn’t slowing down every time he pressed the brakes. Too drunk to understand he was furiously stepping on the wrong pedal. Too drunk to understand that it wasn’t the brakes that finally halted him to a stop, it was a small blue car that had a sunglasses and pineapple sticker on the bumper. A small, light blue car that had the initials DM + MM written in Dorcas’ handwriting on the back window.
Dorcas Meadowes, who was so beautiful it hurt everything inside of Marlene to have to live in a world without her.
Marlene moved to lay in the tan, wet sand, not caring about her shorts or her shirt. She only cared to close her eyes.
Dorcas drove with sunglasses on, hair and windows down, radio so loud Marlene’s heart beat would change to match it.
Dorcas would make blue berry pancakes in short, blue pajama shorts, use her pastel blue plates and coffee mugs. She would smile, she was happy, and still jokingly referred to it all as ‘my morning blues.’
Dorcas kept journals to write poetry, draw what she wanted to paint, analyze her emotions, and write lists about anything she wanted to make lists for.
Dorcas would sit on the counter, reading the book sitting between her legs, feet swinging, and smile when Marlene walked between her legs and moved her eyes away from the book, so she could kiss her.
Dorcas watched comedies on her laptop and laughed quietly to herself.
Dorcas loved Marlene, told her every day.
Dorcas one night, laying on one side, turned onto her other to face Marlene and whisper “Marlene McKinnon, you saved me.”
Marlene opened her brown eyes, which automatically saw the clouds that were starting to turn pink. Dorcas was listening, she would always listen to Marlene.
“Dorcas Meadowes, you saved me.”