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There it was again. That damn tube. It had been in the mirror cabinet since she left, slowly collecting dust between a half empty jar of homemade face cream and Wynonna’s old hair brush. Could a tube of toothpaste even collect dust? Yes, it seemed.
The Homestead was empty. Wynonna and the boys were out on a late-night mission to save the world. Waverly hadn’t bothered turning on the lights or get the fireplace crackling. She had stopped feeling the cold several weeks ago and was too tired to be afraid of the darkness looming in the creaking house. How could she, when the thing she feared the most had already happened.
She reached for her toothbrush. There used to be a blue one in the glass next to her own purple one. How could she remember the brush, but forget the toothpaste? She must have thought she packed it all.
There were still so many questions. And Waverly had given up on getting answers.
“Do you love me?” she had asked, the dimpled smile long gone.
The truth was, Waverly was afraid to love. She hadn’t given an answer, only reaching for her lovers arm with a touch of desperate hope. But her hand had fallen from her grasp when there was no warmth to be found. Her arms couldn’t hold on to her any longer, so she just kept them hanging limply by her side.
“No, wait. Don’t go.”
But the door had already closed.
It’s been forty nights and forty days since that last desperate grasp. Forty nights of longing for safe arms, of restless dreams and a pillow drenched in tears. Forty days of red eyes and hushed voices whenever she entered a room.
But there were no voices now, as she slowly descended the stairs. The bottle from earlier was left on the kitchen counter, nearly empty. She drained the rest of the amber liquid in one go, the delicious burn mixing terribly with her fresh minty breath. Waverly swallowed and the burn disappeared, washing away the short relief. She needed more to drown out her sorrow, but there was nothing. The silence of the looming house was all she got.
Waverly had overheard a hushed conversation between Wynonna and Doc yesterday (or was it the day before?). Wynonna had said Waverly thinks too much. Doc said she drinks too much. Neither were right. Waverly’s mind was numb, allowing no thoughts at all to penetrate the stifling haze inside her brain. The whiskey helped clear the fog, but it was never enough.
And she was so tired.
---
Four AM. There was shuffling on the porch outside, but Waverly was too tired to be scared. Did I lock the door?
A moment later Wynonna turned her key and came inside, bringing the cold winter with her. She stomped the snow off her worn boots and flicked on the light. She finally noticed Waverly blinking at her with the empty bottle clutched against her chest and her eyes immediately softened.
“Waves...”
“You said I would be fine, but I’m never fine.” The tears were making crooked paths down her cheek, finally dripping down on the cool surface her face was resting on. Was there more than this kitchen floor?
Wynonna curled herself around her baby sister’s shivering body and let her rest in her embrace. She was out of soothing words. “One day you will move on,” she’d told her in the beginning. She’d thought her sister’s heart would grow back eventually. Now she wasn’t so sure.
“Where are you?” Waverly cried. “Where are you?”
---
Another Thursday night. Just her and Tommy sitting at the bar when happy hour began. They were used to each others company by now, both of them nursing their drink while Waverly talked and him in pleasant silence. It didn’t matter what she told him, he stopped listening ages ago.
“Each time I am alone I think of her voice. It keeps me occupied.” She sighed and picked at the label on her bottle. Tommy said nothing. “I think I’m half insane.”
The song changed and they both went quiet. It was an old song she hadn’t heard for a long time, since that day she’d caught her singing along with the radio. It was the day she had figured out what her happyland was. “Happiness equals you,” she had told her with a kiss and a smile. They’d had their share of joy. Now there was only pain.
The memories of laughter and song was eventually interrupted by a pair of rowdy boys who came in and started playing pool. They were new to the bar and Waverly was new to them. So they paid for her next drink and invited her over to join the game, unaware of the sorrow she brought with her. They talked to her with charming smiles, but she couldn’t remember a word they said. She didn’t care who they were, just needed someone to hold. They bought her another drink and watched her slowly drown in it. They let her rest her heavy head on their shoulder and she thought that maybe it would all be ok. But they left leaving her feeling worse than before. Drunk and alone.
She eventually stumbled out of the bar and into the night, her feet leading her the wrong way. Suddenly she was there, in the familiar street with the familiar house.
“I’m at your door, let me in.”
But there was no one there.
“I thought that things would change, but I’m losing my mind.” She clumsily sat down with her back against the door. “I don’t know where I should go.”
It was Doc who found her. He wrapped his coat around her waning body and carried her to his car.
“It’s so hard to be alone,” she sobbed against his chest.
“I know, darlin’.” He carefully placed her in the passenger seat. “But it doesn’t help replaying your mistakes. The present won’t change unless you make it change.”
She didn’t hear his words, already falling through the darkness into a restless sleep.
Waverly dreamed of what would be a better destiny, because she was always there in her dreams, with her fiery hair and her kind eyes.
“I know I ran away,” she told her with a silky voice, her beautiful lips shaping the words with care. “I ran away but know I’m back.” A dimpled smile. “I’m not leaving you no more.”
She stretched out a hand to touch Waverly’s face, but she couldn’t reach. Something is wrong. Suddenly those outstretched fingers were so far away, and the figure was retreating back into the darkness. Waverly could do nothing but watch her go.
---
Spring is coming in, but Waverly was not ready. ‘Cause she’s not home and Waverly is running out of time. Wynonna threw out the abandoned tube of toothpaste and Waverly had to dig through the trash to find it. She muttered to herself as she carefully put it back on the shelf, and then Wynonna was there with her usual sarcastic drawl.
“You having a conversation with the laundry machine?”
“Don’t be mean. I’m tired.”
They glared at each other wordlessly, Waverly guarding the tube with crossed arms.
“You know what? Do what you want.”
Wynonna turned around and marched out of the bathroom. Waverly followed her cautiously, settling on a chair at the kitchen table. Wynonna filled freshly brewed coffee in a mug and slurped loudly. She didn’t offer Waverly one.
“Baby girl, let go. It’s the only way.”
Waverly dropped her eyes to her hands and doesn’t respond.
“You go out every night, and you just keep on drowning...” Wynonna pulled out another chair and sat down, leaning toward her sister. “I hate to see you like this.”
“I know.”
Wynonna continues. “Doc drives around every night looking for you, and you’re always there.”
There. At her house.
“And look at you now, what even happened to you?”
Waverly’s body was covered in bruises. The flesh wound on her chin was still raw.
She shrugged. “I tripped.” She could honestly not remember what happened, but she’d figured she had probably fallen on her face somewhere between the bar and that sky blue house she visited every night.
Wynonna sighed heavily and reached for Waverly’s hand. “I’m not gonna let you down and mess up like I usually do, Waves, ‘cause I love you. But this has to stop, and I’m not sure I can watch it any longer. You can’t go on hurting yourself like this. I won’t let you.” A beat. “ So I’m gonna empty all of the whiskey in the sink.” Wynonna gulped heavily. If she was giving up her favorite drink she was truly worried about her little sister. “I just thought you should know.”
Waverly nodded slowly. “I know. I know I keep thinking the wrong thoughts. And you know, drinking too much.” Wynonna squeezed her hand. “But it’s just hard. I always miss her. And I don’t even know if she misses me back. But I was hers, for a while. And now I’m not. And it hurts.”
They both had tears in their eyes now. Wynonna wiped her cheek with the back of her hand, but Waverly just let them roll down freely. She was so used to the tears now, the soreness of the delicate skin around her eyes becoming a constant part of her face.
“I’m so tired of being sad.” It came out as a desperate whisper and broke Wynonna’s heart clean in half. She lunged forward to cradle her sister in her arms.
“We’ll make it stop,” Wynonna promised her. “We’ll make it stop. Together.”
---
She stopped going out every night, distracting her mind with work instead of the sweet burn of whiskey.
It was hopeless. Their mission was never-ending and Waverly knew it was a war they couldn’t win. Sometimes a whisper would emerge from the back of her mind, telling her that they had already lost, because her love was gone. But she wouldn’t hide anymore. They had taken her light, her laughter, but she still had her tears. They were ever-present, always glinting in her eyes as if to remind her of what she had lost. Of what she had to fight for.
But when they finally did defeat him, almost a year of hard work and misery later, she found herself sitting next to Tommy at the same old bar. Once again she was all alone but for her silent companion. The mission was over, the curse was gone, and she was empty again. She was still waiting for the sun to take away the rain, but it didn’t come.
Take my memories, she thought as she downed another glass. I don’t need them anymore.
She descended into darkness again. A darkness so all-consuming she lost sight of the dim light reflecting off the row of glasses above the bar. Even Tommy wasn’t sure if she would emerge from this one.
Waverly had always been a dreamer. She used to dream of a better world, then she dreamt of reaching fingers, always there but always far away. Waverly hadn’t dreamt for a while now, ever since she promised Wynonna to try and be better.
But the whiskey brought back the dream. The soft skin of her cheek, the twinkling in her amber eyes, the shape of her lips. She was so close she could touch her. If only she could lift her heavy arm and reach for her.
She could feel her mind slipping out of the dream. There was a voice on the other side, calling for her. She wanted it to shut up. Just give me two more seconds, she begged. The dream was so beautiful, but it ended before it even really started when rugged hands shook her awake. It was the Sheriff.
“What’s the time?” she asked him, but he gave no answer. He took her hand and led her to his car. Her head spinning, her feet barely keeping her upright. And her eyes were sore again. She wondered if the redness would ever fade or if the sore skin was too late to repair.
Nedley helped her get in the passenger seat, carefully arranging her body against the worn leather. She had been in the car before. She’d known she wasn’t really allowed to sit in the front, but it had been their little secret. She had asked about the radio and the codes and the sirens until they had parked the car at the edge of town and she had pulled her against her, kissing and laughing and living. “It’s always gonna be you and me,” she’d promised. But then she’d left.
They drove in silence. Nedley fiddled with the radio for a bit, but the reception was bad and he quickly gave up. Waverly didn’t mind. She was floating on the edge of consciousness, not registering that he was bringing her to the police station instead of home. The car jerked heavily as the tires screeched to a sudden halt and shook her awake.
“It’s the middle of the night,” she groaned and pressed her eyes closed against the blinding flare of the street light. “Can you just bring me home?”
“This can’t wait,” he said in his usual gruff voice, already pulling her out of her seat.
There was a crowd inside. Wynonna and Doc and Jeremy and Lonnie. She could feel all eyes on her as she tried to keep up with Nedley’s march.
And then she stopped in her tracks. Her eyes went big, suddenly wide awake even in her drunken state. It was weird, because standing in front of her was her dream. She could hear herself screaming, shouting out of doubt. The image was so real, so vivid, but it couldn’t be. She knew she had gone mad now, finally. Waverly cried and cried, until her eyes ran dry. And then Wynonna was there, holding up the pieces left of her.
“It’s gonna be okay,” she whispered against her tangled hair. Wynonna’s hands felt real against her back and realization started to dawn on the distraught girl.
Wynonna carefully let go of her shoulders and Waverly was left on her unstable feet, swaying gently. She wasn’t sure if she could hold up her own body, but she had to try. It was important. She took the first step towards the vacated BBD-office. They hadn’t been there for a week, not since their bitter victory.
“Are you scared of me?” The familiar voice sounded so real, almost palpable.
She wasn’t scared. She didn’t feel anything, unsure how to react to the sudden appearance of her dream waiting for her at the end of the corridor.
Then she stretched her hand and Waverly reached for it. And this time they did touch. One more step and she fell into the waiting arms, finally safe by her side. She buried her face against the delicate skin of her neck, breathing in the familiar sweet scent. Vanilla with a hint of cinnamon. “Like vanilla-dipped donuts,” she had told her once, in another world. Her chest filled up with air because she could breathe again, her hands clutching the body she was always longing for. Waverly could feel her rapidly pounding heartbeat, suddenly alive with conflicted love.
“Nicole.”