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Daylight flooded through the windows of Waverly’s bedroom, but she turned away, shunning the sun. Her limbs felt heavy, too heavy to move and it was a burden to breathe. With eyes squeezed shut, Waverly concentrated on her lungs, on how they seemed only half full, but her head was fuzzy and conflicted and she didn’t want to concentrate anymore.
Jolene was gone. Mama had returned. But Waverly couldn’t begin to imagine how she was supposed to leave her bed, or her room, or the Homestead. The idea of outside made her temples throb. Her heart, beating steadily, felt like stone, fossilized in her chest cavity and she wondered briefly what it would feel like if her heart paused, or if the world paused, but again, her head was cloudy, muddled. She felt detached, even as her fingers curled and uncurled in her bedsheets. She didn’t want to be awake and she wasn’t sure why, only that she had felt the rolling dark flicker behind her eyelids the night before, and now the world was grey and she was alone.
Familiar boot-clad footsteps sounded on the staircase, but Waverly burrowed deeper into the blankets, bracing for the inevitable fwoosh of her door and sure enough, when Wynonna burst in, she did so out of breath and loud.
“Baby Girl, you dressed?”
Wynonna was always kinetic energy, like the storm clouds that would roll in over the mountains. She was the second before a deluge, the pause between the lightning strike and thunder, and Waverly wished so badly to join her sister, to partake in that feeling. But the weight on her shoulders was too heavy so she said nothing.
“Waves? Me and Mama are going shooting. Grab your shotgun and let’s go!”
Waverly could picture it, the three of them, all wild hair and gunpowder. Except Mama and Wynonna would have a better time without her. Especially today, so without moving, Waverly forced herself to speak.
“You go. I’m okay.”
Her voice sounded small and muffled by the pillow, but it was enough because Wynonna crossed the room and lay a hand on Waverly’s head.
“You okay, Waves? Bad day?”
Waverly nodded, surprised her usually oblivious sister noticed. But this wasn’t Waverly’s first bad day, she’d been having them for years, and Wynonna was especially attuned to Waverly’s moods. Gus had called them “bad days” too, those rare moments when Waverly seemed overly tired, when she decided to skip cheerleading practice…
Wynonna’s hand was replaced with Wynonna’s lips, as she pressed a soft kiss to Waverly’s hair.
“Kick its ass, Baby Girl.”
And then Wynonna was gone and Waverly stopped fighting sleep.
~*~
The next time that Waverly opened her eyes, she once more heard footsteps coming up the stairs, but it wasn’t Wynonna, it was Nicole.
Where Wynonna was electricity, Nicole was softness and strength. She was the promise of a spring morning and she was hope, so much hope, but Waverly still couldn’t bring herself to smile. Whatever had taken a hold of her lungs was holding on strong and her one clear thought was, no, not Nicole, not like this.
Nicole entered the room quietly, still in her uniform, her hands full of what appeared to be bags from the big city.
“Hey, baby,” she said, softly, her eyes wide and kind.
Waverly managed to turn up the corners of her lips, but made no move to sit up or toss the blankets. She was groggy and the world felt too big.
“Wynonna called,” Nicole explained, setting her bags down before sitting next to Waverly on the bed. A hand was suddenly stroking Waverly’s hair, lovingly curling it over one ear, and Wavelry tried to remember the last time she had showered. Was it yesterday? Or the day before? The very idea felt impossible. Her muscles hurt.
“I’m okay,” Waverly said, but Nicole shook her head and made a noise that let Waverly know she couldn’t bullshit her way out of this one.
“No, baby, you’re not. But it’s okay that you’re not.”
Waverly pondered those words, wondering how they could be true. Nicole loved her because she was bright and bubbly and curious. Nicole loved Waverly’s mind and her boobs and definitely not her cold temper or her exhaustion. Nicole couldn’t love this.
“Is it okay if I lie down with you?”
Nicole stood, but didn’t move from Waverly’s side of the bed.
There had been times when Gus had stayed with her during her bad days. But mostly, Waverly dealt with her sadness on her own. It was rare that she had a bad day, rarer still that it kept her indoors, but the idea of Nicole seeing it, seeing the darkness…she felt exposed.
“Yeah,” Waverly said and watched as Nicole crossed the room and lay down on top of the quilts. Waverly turned in the bed and found herself lying close to Nicole’s shoulder.
Nicole made no move to touch Waverly. Instead, she crossed her ankles and reached into one of the bag she’d brought. Waverly watched as Nicole set a book down on her lap and a bottle of water on the nightstand.
“You don’t have to stay, Nicole.”
Waverly felt self-loathing flood her body. It was like water suddenly lapping at her esophagus.
“I know. I want to.”
‘I don’t…” Waverly found it difficult to speak, but she pressed on, feeling like she owed Nicole some sort of explanation, “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“Like what?”
“At my worst.” The pressure on her chest worsened and Waverly kept her eyes closed. She could smell Nicole, that intoxicating vanilla scent that always made her feel safe, so she pushed her face a little closer to the shoulder next to her.
“Baby, I want to see you at your worst.”
“But it’s not who I am,” Waverly said, unsure what she meant. Her bad days did not define her, but they scared her. It was like Jolene had said, like a changeling, like the “real” Waverly snuck away and something dark took her place. Except maybe this was the real Waverly too. Waverly wasn’t sure how to deal with that.
Nicole snuggled down into the bed and turned on her side. She found one of Waverly’s fists under the blanket and curled her fingers around it.
“Baby your worst isn’t that one time you forgot to shave your legs,” Nicole said.
“Hah.”
“I mean, it was oddly cute and prickly, but this, this is part of you and it doesn’t scare me.”
“I’m okay,” Waverly insisted, “I can take care of it.”
“I know that. I know that you don’t need me here. Because you’re strong and you fight, I can see you fighting right now.”
Nicole smelled so perfect and her voice was so light and gentle. Waverly still felt heavy, the idea of getting out of bed felt impossible, but she was starting to think that Nicole really did want to stay, that she wasn’t just saying it. Because Nicole loved her. Because Nicole was real.
“I can’t get out of bed,” Waverly confessed.
“Is it okay if I stay here with you then?”
Waverly felt so tired, she felt so much weight, and every second she fought it, tore at it, tried to push through the veil that had descended over her chest. She had to fight on her own, but maybe it would be okay if Nicole stayed next to her. Not fighting. Not helping. Just…there, in the darkness, unafraid.
“Okay,” Waverly said.
“Okay,” Nicole answered back. She wiggled down a little more and Waverly found the strength to lay her head on Nicole’s chest. The pillow was comfortable, but Nicole Haught was better. She inhaled again, pressing her nose into the opening of Nicole’s shirt collar.
“Are you smelling me?” Nicole asked, one arm wrapping around Waverly’s shoulders.
“Yeah,” was the only response.
Waverly closed her eyes again, falling asleep to the sound of Nicole’s soft laughter.
~*~
The clock read 3:00 when Waverly yawned awake and she blinked, trying to adjust to the dark room. Nicole was still beside her, fast asleep, and Waverly took a moment to try and make out Nicole’s features. The moon was bright enough to illuminate Nicole in shadow, and Waverly smiled softly at the cute nose and slightly parted lips.
The weight on her chest felt lighter. Her head still felt heavy, but Waverly sat up slightly, feeling like she could get out of the bed if she wanted to. It was late and Nicole was asleep, but Waverly was more awake than she’d been all day.
There was an empty glass on the nightstand and a bowl of half-eaten popcorn next to it. Waverly stretched her arms out and then looked down at her blanket covered lap, her smile widening as her knee bumped Nicole’s discarded book. Gods, Graves & Scholars: The Story of Archaeology – the paperback looked worn and Waverly wondered if Nicole had read it before.
Waverly’s heart hurt a little, it always did when the mist lifted and she could feel herself returning to wakefulness. Gus had always hugged her tightly when she emerged from a bad day, but the after effects felt like a hangover. Waverly still had a lot on her mind, too much, but she also felt like her strength was returning. It felt nice to smile. It felt nice to flex her arms and her toes and know that the day would be better.
Beside her, Nicole whimpered in her sleep, and Waverly sighed. Nicole’s nightmares were nothing new, but the reason for them haunted her – the image of Nicole so close to danger, so close to death…
“Hey, baby, you’re okay,” Waverly said, lightly tracing Nicole’s cheekbone with her fingers.
When Nicole woke seconds later, she looked slightly confused, taking in Waverly’s face as if she’d never seen it before. And then she returned from whatever dark forest she’d lost herself in, pushing herself up in the bed.
“Good morning, Waves,” she said and Waverly laughed, shaking her head.
“It’s the middle of the night, Nicole.”
“Oh. Shoot. Do you want to sleep more?”
“No,” Waverly felt wide awake, “but you can. You worked all day.”
“No, no, I’m okay. Are you hungry?”
Waverly’s heart felt so full, it was such stark change from earlier in the day.
“Honestly, I kind of want a shower.”
“Great. Yeah, okay, do you want company or…”
The thought of Nicole in the shower with her was tempting, but Waverly could still feel the heaviness of the day.
“Actually, could you make me some tea?”
If Nicole was disappointed she didn’t show it. Instead she grinned and nodded, squeezing Waverly’s hand. Before she could jump off of the bed though, Waverly pulled her back down.
“Sometimes it’s just too much and I get…tired,” Wavelry said. Nicole settled back onto the bed and opened her arms. Waverly leaned in, sighing into Nicole’s body.
“That’s okay, cutie.”
“I hate it. I thought with Jolene gone that maybe it wouldn’t still happen…”
“You know that I’m not going anywhere, right?”
Waverly inhaled again, taking in Nicole, feeling her arms, trying to believe her words. She reached up for Nicole’s shirt, trying to unbutton it with one hand, eager to press her face against the pale, soft skin. Nicole’s heartbeat was always so sturdy, so present, and its rhythm steadied her.
“I’m not going anywhere either,” Waverly said.
And she meant it. Every word.
~*~
The shower was hot and as she stepped out, Waverly wondered why it had seemed like a Herculean task mere hours before. She wrapped herself in a towel and then walked into her bedroom, sighing wistfully at the sight of her pyjamas carefully laid out on the bed. The unicorn balloon was somewhat deflated, but Waverly kept it pinned to her wall and she crossed the room to pick up the little, pink teddy bear Nicole had brought for their Sorry Party.
She felt loved. She felt surrounded by it. And her knees felt strong for the first time in a long time. She felt strong.
“This is stupid,” Wynonna’s voice pierced through Waverly’s musings and she wondered why her sister was awake in the middle of the night.
“No, it’s not, now do it.” Nicole sounded annoyed, but determined and Waverly rolled her eyes, wondering if her sister and her girlfriend would ever find a peaceful co-existence.
“Can’t make me!”
“Wynonna, it’s an antique!”
“So?”
Waverly smiled to herself and pressed the bear to her chest. The pyjamas Nicole had chosen were her favourite, soft boxers and a tank top and a fuzzy bathrobe. Tossing her wet hair into a messy ponytail, Waverly quickly dressed before descending the stairs to find Wynonna and Nicole standing over the kitchen table.
Nicole was busy placing newspaper down on the wooden surface while Wynonna watched, scowling, but as soon as Waverly entered the room, Wynonna’s frown turned into a hopeful smirk.
“Your girlfriend is a square,” she said.
“I just don’t want to ruin the table!” Nicole rolled her eyes and Waverly bit her lip because the whole scene was familiar and ridiculous and it was four in the morning and they were all in PJs standing in the kitchen.
“Wyatt Earp was born on that table,” Waverly said and Wynonna took a comical step back, eyes wide in shock.
“Seriously? Waves, I’ve licked whiskey off that thing. A lot.”
“Why would you lick whiskey off the…you know what? Never mind. Just help me,” Nicole thrust a few sheets of newspaper across the table and Wynonna begrudgingly joined her efforts to protect the priceless antique.
Waverly still held the bear to her chest, content to watch Nicole and Wynonna flutter around her. Once Wynonna took a seat, her red flannel onesie a stark contrast to the yellow kitchen light, Nicole set a cup of tea in front of Waverly and leaned over to kiss her forehead.
“Okay, Haught, what’s the plan here? We drinking?”
“No,” Nicole said, moving away from Waverly to reach into the bag at her feet. Waverly let the warmth of the room seep into her bones. The mug in front of her was hot and she held it in one hand, enjoying how it made her fingers feel tingly.
“Please tell me you didn’t bring board games. Please.” Wynonna had pulled a flask from somewhere in her onesie and leaned back in her chair, eyeing Nicole with a mix of curiosity and annoyance.
“Nope. We’re painting!” Nicole produced three ceramic coffee mugs from the bag. She then dumped numerous bottles of paint on the table and Waverly squealed in excitement.
“I love painting!” She said and Nicole nodded once, pleased with herself, before standing up and crossing to the kitchen sink. While she retrieved water for their paint brushes, Wynonna moved her chair closer to Waverly, close enough that she could reach out and playfully tug on Waverly’s ear.
“Hey, you’re my favourite, okay?” Wynonna’s voice was low, but the words filled Waverly’s heart. She breathed them in, let them settle, tattooed them to her marrow, knowing they would be hers forever.
Nicole was there too, beside her, helpfully passing the pink paint, and then they were all quietly concentrating on their work. Wynonna immediately covered her cup in black paint while Nicole favoured blue, painting waves and sand and a palm tree. Waverly chose pinks and oranges and yellows.
“Is Mama coming home soon?” She asked, looking up to see Wynonna carefully crafting a skull on her now black coffee mug.
“Mmmhmmm. In the morning.”
“Good.”
Perhaps it was a little juvenile to feel so relieved that her mother would soon join them. Perhaps it was silly to sit at her table in the middle of the night, a teddy bear in her lap, but Waverly didn’t fight the happiness invading every inch of her body. She welcomed it.
~*~
“Wynonna, that’s actually kinda badass.”
Nicole sounded surprised, but Wynonna held the mug triumphantly, admiring the grinning skull she’d painted onto the black background.
“Guys, look!” Waverly set her work down and stood from the table, forgetting about their crafts session as she crossed the hallway and stepped out the door. She ignored Nicole and Wynonna as they called out about how cold it was outside, because the sun was rising behind the mountains and Waverly didn’t want to miss it.
She watched silently as the purples and reds of the morning crawled over the land. She watched as the light reclaimed the darkness. She watched the day roll in and she felt excited by its potential.
Wynonna was beside her, as she always was, but her older sister reached out and Waverly immediately grasped her hand. And then Nicole was there too, behind her, her arms locking around Waverly’s middle, her chest pushing into Waverly’s back, and Waverly reached up so she could squeeze Nicole’s hands where they had settled against her stomach.
Jolene’s voice still whispered in the grey. Waverly could remember her words. She could remember the weight of Jolene’s knife. She could remember imagining how easy it would be to slip that blade into her skin, into the very place where Nicole held her now.
But she could not fathom giving up the feel of Wynonna’s hand in hers or the sound of Nicole’s steady breathing in her ear. She could not fathom giving up the hope she felt at the idea of her Mama walking through the door. She could not fathom missing the first birdsong of the day.
Waverly tipped her head back against Nicole’s shoulder and smiled, a small, teary smile.
“Damn, Nicole, you really do smell like vanilla doughnuts,” Wynonna’s said, her face comically close to Nicole’s shoulder.
The laugh that erupted from Waverly’s lungs was real and loud and it shook away whatever ghosts still haunted her blood. She laughed and she smiled and her voice joined the songs of the sparrows nestled high in the mountains.
She laughed. And she smiled. And she stayed.