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Jester’s pleasant night’s sleep ended with the startled rush that came from the pressure of something ice cold against her legs. Her eyes shot open to darkness and the warm clutch of arms pulling her close and she started to struggle—
Beau’s voice whispered by Jester’s ear, “Sorry. It’s me. I just needed somebody.”
Jester’s body immediately calmed and she reached back to rub Beau’s thigh. “Your feet are really cold.”
“Shit. I didn’t think about that. Sorry.”
“It’s okay.”
Beau pulled her closer, one arm resting on Jester’s waist, the other working its way under her head. She rested her forehead on Jester’s shoulder. Jester reached back and soothed Beau’s hair with tiny strokes.
“Anything I can do?”
Beau squeezed her tighter. “You already are.”
“Okay.”
Jester tried to go to sleep, but she could hear the tears in Beau’s voice and feel the dampness on her shoulder. Beau never really cried—that awful full body shuddering—but her eyes definitely leaked.
Jester kneaded her lip. This was the fourth time in the last week that Beau had crawled into her bed in the middle of the night. She didn’t talk about it. She didn’t explain it. Jester would just wake up and find Beau there. Jester would cuddle her until she fell asleep and, when Jester woke up in the morning, Beau would be back in the other bed across the room.
During the day, it was like nothing had happened. Jester had tried to bring it up a few days ago and Beau had just shrugged.
Right now, with Beau clutching to Jester’s body, Jester’s shoulder increasingly damp, it didn’t feel like nothing. Beau's fingers pinched Jester’s skin as she shook at a dark memory or thought. Jester tried to move to look at Beau, but Beau was frozen, lost in her own mind, burying her head almost painfully into Jester’s shoulder. Breaking Jester’s heart little by little.
“Beau?”
A pause. Beau’s embrace grew tighter and her face pressed harder and wetter into Jester’s shoulder.
“Honey, you're hurting me,” Jester lied, voice quivering.
That got Beau's attention. The fierce grip she had on Jester loosened, but she didn’t move away. Jester shifted in Beau's grasp, getting comfortable for the long night ahead. She rested her left-hand on Beau’s right, the one over her stomach, and Beau let out a small, barely audible sigh.
A chill breeze wafted in through the cracked window, curtains billowing softly, tracing shadows on the ceiling.
“You know,” Jester started, “it's okay to be sad. No one is one hundred percent okay all the time.” Her free hand resumed stroking Beau's hair. Her nails softly scratched at Beau’s skull and Beau squirmed into the touch. “But I worry about you.”
Beau’s hand tensed against Jester’s tummy and she nuzzled deeper into Jester’s shoulder, hiding her face. Beau’s chest pressed tight against her back, Jester wasn't sure if the beating she felt in her skin was her own heart or Beau’s, trying to break away from this sorrow.
“I know,” Beau whispered, “I’m sorry.”
Jester watched the shadow of the curtains flutter across the wall. Her fingers still wove their way through Beau’s hair, stroking and soothing. Then, softly, barely a whisper, Jester began to sing:
“Oh, the cuckoo
She’s a pretty bird
She warbles as she flies.
She brings us glad tiding
And tells us no lies
She sucks on pretty flowers
To make her voice clear
And she never sings cuckoo
Till the spring of the year”
It was a song her mama used to sing when Jester was small. The howling wind and thunder and pounding rain of springtime storms had seemed terribly frightening to young Jester. But after the skies cleared, her mama would throw open the windows to let in the breeze and birdsong and would sing this song. Always soft and sweet, she would beckon Jester to the window to feel the cool, fresh air and inhale the scent of soil and life. The storms were scary, violent even, but there was always something good after.
People told her she sang like her mama, but Jester knew that wasn’t true. Her mama’s voice was lush and full, filling the room with a warm tone that sank into the listener’s skin, soothing their minds (or exciting, if that was what she wanted). Jester knew she couldn’t sing like that.
But tonight, although Jester didn’t know if she sang for herself or Beau, the memories of her mama’s voice guided her and she echoed those sweet reassuring tones of the past into the night. Whether for her or for Beau, it calmed them both. The fluttering heartbeat slowed in Jester’s chest and Beau’s breathing grew even.
Jester smiled and rolled over (wiggling out of Beau’s arms) to plant a small kiss on the top of Beau’s head.
Eventually, Beau fell asleep, her breathing slow and even, a few slight snores escaping her, and Jester followed soon after.
Jester woke up expecting an empty bed and rolled over (as she usually did) to greet the day with an expansive yawn and a stretch. Which is how she nearly skewered Beau in the eye with a horn.
“Fuck!” Beau sat bolt upright and scrambled away. But their legs were entangled together in the sheets (and Beau didn’t try very hard), so she didn’t get very far. Beau rubbed her temple where Jester’s horn hit and flicked her eyes around the room. For a moment, Beau was confused, not quite realizing where she was, but then she remembered and her eyes went wide.
“Sorry—” Jester stifled a yawn and tried again. “Sorry, Beau.” She swatted Beau’s hand away and leaned in close to inspect the damages. Certain it was nothing more than a bruise, she gave the bump a little kiss.
Beau promptly groaned and flopped back, burying her face in the pillows.
“Are you feeling better?” asked Jester. She began to rub Beau’s back, trying to work warmth and healing into Beau’s body. She could feel the back muscles relax just a little.
There was a long pause and then a few muffled breaths.
“No.”
Jester waited another beat, but nothing more was forthcoming, so she eased back onto the pillow next to Beau and massaged the base of Beau’s neck with her thumb. Beau didn’t sigh, but Jester recognized the little grunt she gave as the quasi-angry equivalent.
“Want to talk about it?” Jester said it half into her own pillow. She watched Beau out of the corner of her eye, trying to time their breaths together as her thumb rubbed out soothing circles. Unconsciously, Jester’s toes ran down Beau’s ankle.
“No.”
Beau wriggled her legs away from Jester’s but didn’t make any move to leave. Jester flipped onto her back and crossed her arms (but wound her tail around Beau’s wrist just in case).
“Okay, but I am here though.”
Jester watched the sun finish rising out their window, Beau’s muffled breaths and restless legs providing a soundtrack. Finally, Beau rolled over.
“Fine. You win.” She swatted the tail from her wrist and nuzzled Jester. She glared menacingly up at the rafters.
Jester smiled and, rolling, touched her forehead to Beau’s. “What’s wrong?”
Even though Beau had just agreed to explain, she shook her head. But it didn’t seem like shying away—Beau’s arms uncrossed and came up to wrap around Jester’s shoulders. Jester gave her a light peck on the lips and then cooed as she stroked Beau’s hair. She had no words for Beau right now. Beau didn’t always find her words easily and Jester didn’t want to step on any words she might find. Instead, she made soft sounds and rocked back and forth, trying to coax Beau to let go of whatever hurt she held inside.
Beau leaned into the rocking and seemed to unfold with a long low groan, the sound rumbling in Jester’s ear. “Okay. Okay. I just—I don’t know.” She pulled Jester close and nuzzled her neck again. “It’s been a hell of a lot lately. You know?” Beau’s breath was hot and wet against Jester’s skin. “Fuck. We got in over our heads so bad, Jess.”
Jester nodded, her chin rolling on the top of Beau’s head.
“I thought I was dealing with it. Like, when hasn’t my life been a total disaster? When have things ever gone the way I wanted?” She lapsed into silence again.
Jester chewed on her lower lip. She wanted to offer advice. She wanted to tell Beau it would be okay. But Beau sounded so bitter, so . . . sad. Maybe advice wasn’t the right thing. Maybe Beau just needed a hug. Maybe she just needed Jester to be there, like she was night after night. So Jester gave Beau a hug, so tight, so clinging. Jester imagined squeezing all the pain out of Beau, forcing it all away from her.
Jester whispered. “I’m sorry. I think I kind of know what you mean.”
She felt Beau’s breath stop and her body go tight and Jester’s own breath caught in her throat. Jester was afraid that talking had been a mistake.
But then Beau said, “You do?”
Jester relaxed. “Yeah. I mean, I didn’t want to leave my mama and I—I didn’t want to be kidnapped and—“
“Fuck.” Beau was suddenly squeezing Jester close, pinning her arms to her side. “Fuck. I didn’t think—”
“Beau!” Jester’s tail whipped around and jerked one of Beau’s arms up, releasing her. Jester scrambled to sitting. “I’m saying I understand. I’m not telling you not to feel bad.”
Beau shook off the tail and gestured wildly up at Jester. “I’m just saying I know I’ve got it good. Really, I made my mistakes, but they were mine. Like, nothing got forced on me.”
Jester leaned over and took Beau’s head in her hands. Her skin was soft and warm in her palms. She smiled down at her. “And I got a super cool childhood where my mom was awesome and bought me everything I want. So, guess we’re even!”
“That doesn’t make any—”
Jester clucked her tongue. “You can show me when you’re sad or down, Beau. That’s it isn’t it? You’re allowed to let me see that. You do not have to hide it in the nighttime.” She waved wildly. “See! It’s daytime and we’re talking about it and it’s okay!”
Beau lay very still on the bed, her face stuck in a look of confusion and distaste. Jester bit her lip, wondering if she had pushed too far.
“Fuck.” Beau’s face wore a scowl. “Fuck!”
Beau’s arm shot out and grabbed Jester. Jester’s eyes went wide as Beau tugged her down. But she relaxed as Beau’s arms embraced her and held her tight.
Beau’s voice was quiet next to Jester’s ear. “You’re right. Okay? I’ll try.”
Jester’s lips curled into a smile. “That’s all I ask.”
The sun was shining brightly through the window now—a warm white light that glowed across the wall. Jester ran her fingers through Beau’s hair and Beau gave a light kiss on Jester’s cheek.
Suddenly, Beau jumped back like she was remembering something and smacked Jester on the arm. “Shit! Jester, I didn’t know you could sing like that! You’ve been holding out on me!” Without a moment’s hesitation, she scrambled on top of Jester, straddling her. “No getting up until I get another song!”
Jester giggled. Despite the puffiness of her eyes, Beau was almost smiling. And, for Beau, that was as good as a giggle.