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The whirring of a fan is the loudest sound in the room, among the low hum of grasshoppers and cicadas on the ground outside the cabin. Salem sits, her head on Marisol’s collarbone, eyes closed and slowly breathing. The air is dry and hot, and the gentle pressure of the breeze from the fan in Salem’s hair soothes the ache of exhaustion in her bones. She shifts, settling down further into the soft duvet.
Beneath Salem’s head, she can feel the dull thudding of Marisol’s heartbeat, and her slow, calm breathing. Marisol’s chest rises and falls slowly, and she smiles, a small, knowing thing, as she leans back against the wooden-panelled wall. For once, the warmth is less than unbearable, and the fan set up into the gloriously-empty cabin provides a brief respite from the oppressive warmth radiating from outside. Marisol leans her head against Salem’s, and neither of them speak for a while. The silence that spreads to fill the room is warm and calming.
Salem’s fingertips brush Marisol’s cheek, and she blushes. She stares at her, briefly making eye contact as she ruminates. The ends of Marisol’s hair are dyed a faded pink, and the sight of it reminds Salem of a time long ago. They were sitting on the edge of Marisol’s bath, hands stained as Salem dyed Marisol’s hair, blushing as vibrantly with their laughter as the dye staining her hair. Even over a year later, the dye remains, albeit faded. Like their relationship, it remains, grown into but just as bright. Salem sighs, and leans into her girlfriend’s shoulder. Her worn camp t-shirt smells faintly of lavender and torn grass, likely from the field-based activities (rollerblade archery) that they were running earlier in the day. Her cheek pressed against Marisol’s shoulder, arm around the curve of her waist, they sit together, leaning against the wall and each other. It feels like home.
The peace in the cabin is almost surreal. The campers’ trip into the woods overnight seems ill-advised at best and dangerous at worst, but at least it offers the conselors a massively welcomed break from the hurriedness of camp life. At least, to those who were fortuitous enough to not be chosen; alas, Juniper and Fennel had found themselves among th unlucky few who had to accompany Lucille and the camp nurses on the trek into the woods. Still, the camp is even more peaceful without his inacessant British eccentricities.
Leaning against Marisol on top of a thin camp mattress, Salem closes her eyes, if only for a moment. Despite knowing that her responsibilities will return inevitably, she feels as if she could remain in this spot forever, allowing this moment to wind out and stretch from an instant to an eternity. The hum of the fan continues, and the sound of distant birds can be heard through the window, if not to disturb their brief moment of peace.