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Pulling on a white t-shirt, Jamie lingers at the window to see the flurries of snow falling outside. Watching the way it falls so perfectly, settling on the awning just below their window. She sighs in a bittersweet manner. Another beautiful winter spent in Vermont, another year spent with Dani. It should all be so wonderful, but something undeniable sits at the back of her mind, churning her stomach and wringing her with a doleful sensation. She’d never admit what it is, but she knows it grows closer every day.
She flattens out her shirt and proceeds to neatly tuck the hem into her denim waistband, a task that is halted abruptly when she hears a sharp gasp and a clatter of a few items falling to the floor just beyond the wall. Quickly, she pivots on her bare heels and creeps closer to the sound.
“Dani?” she calls with concern riddled in her voice, her steps becoming faster as she pads closer to the hall.
She gets no response, only a deafening silence that leaves her concluding that something has gone awry from the bathroom just a few feet away. It’s when she gets a bit closer does she hear that distinctive ragged breathing; she knows something has gone wrong. It fills her chest with something so achingly wretched because she already knows what has happened. Knows because it has happened too many times to count in the last year, the last month even.
“Dani?” she asks once more and the only response she gets is sniffling and the sounds of a body shifting in the room before her. “I’m comin’ in, alright?”
Jamie slowly enters with her eyes facing down. She first sees a hairbrush, a handful of bobby pins, and a few elastics strewn around the feet of a woman who she scans upward hesitantly until she sees the entirety of Dani leaned against the sink, her back facing the mirror. Her shoulders are slumped, head bowed, and chest visibly heaving in response to what she had undoubtedly seen. White knuckles grip the edges of the porcelain with so much purpose that Jamie thinks she may shatter the material in her grasp.
Languidly, Jamie saunters closer to Dani as not to startle her in her already stunned and frightened state. With tender hands, she holds Dani’s forearms in an attempt to pacify her rigid form that Jamie fears may snap in half if she isn’t careful enough.
A river of blonde hair pools to hide her features, but Jamie is rationed to sparse glimpses of her face. All she gathers is the sight of twitching eyelids and parted pink lips that release miserable puffs of breath into the air. It’s when Jamie sees the small form of a tear stuck at the curve of Dani’s lip, does she feel the sudden urge to intervene. To use every ounce of her energy to swaddle Dani in all the reassurance it takes to pull her out of this.
Mildly, Jamie lifts Dani’s chin with trepid fingertips, and with a feathered touch, she pushes blonde hair behind one of Dani’s ears. She urges a pair of eyes — one a muddy brown and the other an imposing blue — to look at her, and when they finally do it is a jarring sight. A sight so startling, Jamie has to ground herself with resolute effort to prevent herself from reeling. She sighs to collect herself, clenching her jaw and stilling her hands from trembling as to not express the anguish and worry this view in front of her is garnering within.
Before her, Dani’s eyes stare into hers. Spouting every single thing that is swarming her mind in one single pained and desolate gaze. Her eyes are dark, deeply contrasting with the deeply reddened rims of her eyelids where tears form and threaten to fall. The tension in her face, the pursed lips, and jutted jaw convey her attentiveness to hold them back.
Jamie places a placating kiss on her forehead, lingering there for a moment as her other hand caresses the length of Dani’s arm soothingly. She peels back to stare at Dani once again.
“What happened?” Jamie inquires in a hushed, conscious volume as she brushes stray strands from hiding Dani’s features.
Dani’s eyes drop to the floor to eye the items that had fallen from her grasp. “I-” she begins, words caught in her throat as a sob cracks free. She swallows whatever is left of it down and shudders a composing breath. “I was trying to…” she manages, raising a reluctant hand to gesture to her hair.
Jamie nods in understanding and bends down to calmly pick up the scattered pins and elastics, paying no mind to the way her fingers tremble as she gathers them. She remains there for a fragment of a moment as she settles herself, thinking of ways to turn this unsavory moment into something more heartening. She rises and offers a slight, crooked smile to instill some kind of comfort into Dani who is still skeptical and chagrined.
“Let’s get you out of here, yeah?” Jamie offers.
Dani nods sheepishly, sniffling and wiping at her nose. Jamie pulls Dani by the hand, making sure to keep her back facing the mirror to prevent her from seeing any other unwarranted figures in her reflection.
Before they get into the bedroom, Jamie abruptly stops and feels Dani bump into her.
“Hold on,” she says as she gives Dani’s hand an affirming squeeze before entering the bedroom and tossing the brush, pins, and bands to the mattress. She tackles the necessity of covering the vanity mirror and the full-body mirror against the closet. With ruminating hands on her hips, she looks around herself briefly for a way to achieve this before her eyes halt at the dresser. She pulls a few sheets from one of the drawers, whipping them from their folded forms and cloaking the mirrors, finding the process cathartic in a way. As if she is defeating a nefarious adversary, even if it is only temporary and not much of a solution to their problem at all. The lady still lingers under that mirror whether she likes it or not, but having a sense of control at least soothes the acrimonious beast that constantly wracks Jamie.
Jamie returns to Dani whose eyes are lost in a leer at the floor, still wholly traumatized from seeing the figure in her reflection. She laces their fingers together and draws Dani into the room, watching as her eyes wander around to study the mirrors newly cascaded in sheaths of white fabric. Dani huffs a defeated breath, one that reads of her wondering how it has come to this. How could her life have taken such a grim turn that they have to cover the mirrors in order to protect her from the inevitable?
Jamie urges Dani to sit on the bed with palms against her shoulders, and Dani obliges. The brunette hoists herself up onto the bed and kneels behind Dani, analyzing the tools she has in her hand. A hairbrush, a few pins, and elastics. She knows she should have an idea of where to begin, but Dani’s hair has always been a sacred part of her being, and Jamie hardly has the heart to impede nor ruin what is usually so well crafted and cared for.
“What are we thinking?” Jamie asks in a chipper whisper near the shell of Dani’s ear, chin hovering over her shoulder and a smile adorning her face that Dani can’t see, but it is evident in her tone nonetheless.
“You can just… pin it the way you do yours,” Dani offers timidly in her habitual way of never wanting to trouble anyone in any way.
“Pin it?” Jamie scoffs playfully, trying to invite a lightness into the air, but it doesn’t seem to land the way she intends. “Anything you want, Dani. I’ve got nimble hands. Quick study too.”
With that Dani huffs a nearly inaudible sound. Jamie thinks it is of a lighthearted nature, and she releases a breath she hadn’t even realized she was holding. The subtle progress eases her to the point that she believes things may be okay. If she keeps going with the quipping she can get Dani out of this.
Moments pass in silence without Dani giving any direction. Jamie is aware that Dani is not in the headspace to do so; therefore, making the decisions is up to her.
“Pins and elastics,” Jamie says under her breath as her fingers carefully separate half of Dani’s hair. “How about that half-up business you do, yeah?” she asks as she starts to form a ponytail with the layer of flowing blonde hair she has a hold of, hands tactful and intentional. She holds the bunch of hair in one hand and pulls pieces of short fringe to fall around Dani’s face. She is doing this blindly as she is situated behind Dani, but it feels right nonetheless. “Bit of fringe around the face like you do?”
Jamie angles her head around Dani to see her reaction, and she has an unreadable expression that isn’t anguished nor content. It’s about as startingly neutral as a person can get.
“Yeah,” Dani manages to sigh, eyes fluttering shut in response to Jamie’s soft touch.
“Got it,” Jamie says as she carefully wraps an elastic around the bunch and pulls it tight enough to ensure it stays. Her fingers comb through the hair that falls underneath the ponytail until it falls in one cohesive stream of locks.
After placing a kiss on Dani’s scalp, Jamie climbs off the bed and stands before Dani to scrutinize her work, standing with an arm curved around her torso and a pensive fist perched under her chin. Her hand comes forward to perfect the way Dani’s fringe falls to curtain one side of her forehead until it gently covers one eye. She realizes something is missing, so she hooks two fingers on either side of Dani’s scalp to pull more hair out to frame her face, and that seems to have done the trick.
“Beautiful,” she huffs proudly and nods. “Might be my best work, yet,” Jamie smirks.
Dani returns the smile, albeit subdued.
“Of course, you’re gonna have to trust me on that,” Jamie mutters as she looks at the covered mirrors once again, fists resting on her hips. “You do trust me, right?”
Dani only nods, and Jamie longs for that voice to just say something in return. However, she’s certain she won’t be hearing that voice any time soon because Dani’s jaw offsets and tenses as if she is trying impossibly hard not to break down, and Jamie feels helpless. Usually, she knows what to do, she always has. Knows exactly what to do, exactly what to say. But, somehow, this is different. It’s apparent in this torturous silence and the sudden loss of autonomy now that Jamie knows readying Dani every morning will be her duty from now on. A chunk of their lives has been hacked away by this portending event.
Now, the dooming cloud is hovering right over them, unpredictable in its precipitous nature. Neither knows now when the storm will come, but from the way Dani is looking at her, Jamie knows it’s soon. Too soon.
Dani’s head drops, a shuddering breath to note oncoming tears follows. In her lap lies two hands — a notable tremble in her fingers as her left thumb picks ruthlessly at a hangnail on her right hand.
“Hey,” Jamie whispers. “‘S’alright, Dani-” her voice dissipates into a vanquished exhale as Dani attempts to shake her head. “I told you once that we’d keep an eye on it, yeah?”
Dani only stares at her helplessly. “Jamie,” she nearly sobs out with a voice wracked with indubitable fear.
Jamie lets go of Dani and drags a hand down her own face, a motion to keep herself steady. She knows her position to Dani is to keep grounded and sturdy for her, to not break when she needs her most.
She opts for kneeling in front of Dani, ignoring the way her aging, creaking body fights the move. She looks up at Dani, offering her best reassuring smile. “It’s gonna be okay, Dani. Alright? We’ll keep doin’ this if we have to… keep the mirrors covered,” she says with her hands against Dani’s knees, thumbs circling atop them. “It’s not a problem. Might fuck up your hair once or twice, but I’ll get the hang of it… Not a stranger to a few pins myself,” she chuckles.
Dani takes no delight from Jamie’s jesting attempts. She only shakes her head, snivels, and inhales a ragged breath. “You shouldn’t have to,” she croaks.
“Shouldn’t have to do what? Take care of you?”
Jamie says it partially to tease, but when Dani looks away, she confirms that it’s exactly what she thinks. It puzzles Jamie because she knows that if the roles were reversed, Dani would be doing the same. Stopping at nothing to foster some kind of happiness in times of despair, take care of her as if her life depended on it. Jamie reasons that’s why they’re here. It’s written in the nearly thirteen years behind them and the gold rings on their fingers.
“I don’t want to burden you,” Dani speaks meekly through tears.
Jamie’s brows knit nearly in horror at the notion of Dani ever besetting her. She tuts and shakes her head intently. She desperately stammers out, “Wha-ho-how could you ever burden me, Dani?”
Dani doesn’t answer and continues staring away from her towards the wall. She can’t tell if Dani is deep in thought or if lost in some kind of mindless daze.
“Come on now,” Jamie almost begs as she urges Dani to look back at her with two gentle fingers situated to turn her jaw. Her thumbs brush away tears before framing Dani’s face with a grasp that’s tender yet firm. “It’s gonna be fine, Dani.”
Dani’s eyes search, twitching from one green eye to the other in a desperate forage for that promise. A promise that everything will be fine, but Jamie knows no such thing lies within her. She can’t hold onto something like that when she doesn’t even believe it anymore. She wanted to — maybe did for a while in some kind of denial that their time together would be so brief where everything would undoubtedly not be okay — but reality is blunt as it carves into her now, chiseling and robbing her little by little of the most important piece of her. Dani.
An eon of soundlessness is shared within them, hopeless and weak as they search for something within each other. Wordless messages are shared. Dani expresses her remorse and fatigue; Jamie shares her willingness to fight and nurture.
“I’m so tired,” Dani croaks, so quiet that it’s hardly audible. Heart-wrenching those three words are, and they cause a lump to grow in Jamie’s throat. No matter how much effort goes into gulping it down, it lingers and creeps up until Jamie feels hot, stinging tears stream down her cheeks.
She rises and sits beside Dani, gathering her into her arms. Dani putties in her grasp, limp and nearly lifeless. Even her arms don’t fold around Jamie’s body to hold her. In fact, the only sign of vitality and inclination that Dani shows is in the way she buries her face in the crook of Jamie’s neck, nuzzling gently in the warmth the summit of Jamie’s skin provides.
Dani echoes her previous words in a soft whisper, “so tired.”
“I know,” Jamie mumbles as she holds onto Dani’s head, flexing her other set of fingertips into Dani’s back to ensure that she’s really here — to feel her skin, her muscle, her warmth. Dani is still here, still her even if she's fading at an excruciatingly fast pace.
As she rocks gently with Dani in her arms — feels frail arms finally rope around her — Jamie looks out of the window and watches the eddy of snowflakes dancing in the air, so peaceful and innocent until they reach their fate of decomposition against the ground, melting and disappearing. It’s the snow that reminds Jamie of her and Dani’s novel placement in the millennia, the fifth of January today is to be exact. She remembers Dani’s words from just a few months prior — so seriously and bluntly proffered —that this may be her last year, urging Jamie to prepare herself. Dani spoke of something eerie and inexplicable within her that whispers and taunts from a void miles away, informing her the end is near. The precipice is close but still unknown.
With that realization, a swarm of tormenting sorrow writhes and courses through her veins until she is filled with an unnerving regret, nausea, and longing for something that is not yet gone. But she is reminded once more of their verity as she feels the steady breathing of the waning and suffering woman in her grasp. She finally, and painfully, admits to herself that their time is running out.
Silently, Jamie beseeches to anyone and anything that is willing to hear for more time. For every selfish thing she’s done, for every heartless and punishable action she’s partaken in, she begs for forgiveness and hopes, prays even regardless of her lackluster spirituality, for more time. What she’d give just to have that.