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Dim light coats the thin pages of Shauna’s worn paperback. Secondhand and well-loved, something you can see in the trivial rips and bends, in the multicoloured inks staining the yellowed pages. Shauna loves secondhand books for that exact reason, they have a story outside of the narrative. Annotated books are her favourite. Having once found a book as a teen that had obviously been passed between lovers for many years. Why it had been donated is something Shauna is still decoding to this day.
The donation part always piques her curiosity. Every person has a reason to donate, whether it’s out of generosity or the need to get rid of an item. Ultimately, it doesn’t matter. Because it’ll just keep being passed on and on, being loved anew by every owner.
Like The Adventures of Edward Tulane. Shauna had read that book when she was six, had gotten frustrated that the damn rabbit couldn’t seem to stop being passed on. After becoming a collector of used items, she’d learned to understand that everybody has a lesson they need to learn from something. And whatever that something ends up being is entirely dependent on what the owner makes of it.
“I know that face.” Shauna snaps her sightline to the doorway; ease sinks into her chest, her pinched brow relaxing and her shoulders losing all tension. “You’re thinking,” Jackie teases from where she’s leaning against the frame, head resting on her arm.
Mellowness meets Shauna in Jackie’s eyes. “Guilty,” she admits. Her shoulders drag up to her ears in a shrug and she smiles softly. Jackie laughs, saccharine sweet. “Finished with the dishes?”
Floorboards creak when Jackie moves, crossing the bedroom and nudging the mattress with her knees. Jackie stretches and Shauna thumbs the handwritten ink on the corner of the page nervously. Jackie’s wearing her glasses, hair messy, and donning a worn and faded California shirt Shauna got after visiting her dad in eleventh grade and plaid sleep shorts.
“Yeah,” she says. The mattress squeaks under the new weight. “Thinking more than reading, right?” Jackie hums, gestures to the book. “How many pages have you missed because those cogs won’t stop whirring?”
Shauna opens her mouth to contest, but upon doing that, she realises she can’t recall anything from after the last chapter break. Sighing playfully, she closes the book on her thumb. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” She bites her lip, goading Jackie.
Kneeling on top of the blankets, Jackie prods Shauna’s arm. “Yeah right,” she scoffs, equally as playful. “Set your book down, you’re tired.” Jackie settles down, scooting across the bed until she can bring the duvet over her feet.
Fatigue unexpectedly spills through Shauna. Jackie’s words unlocked it, so now it floods out like the bag of unfavourable winds. But of course, Shauna is no Odysseus. She’s an Orpheus if anything. And in that case, Jackie is her beautiful Eurydice.
“You’re doing it again.” A palm presses to Shauna’s arm and she blinks blearily in front of her.
“Oh,” Shauna says softly and glances at Jackie. “How do you just…know that?”
Fingers gently pushes her hair back, scooping it behind her ear. Shauna presses her face into Jackie’s hand, her thumb brushing over Shauna’s cheekbone. “You get all tense,” a finger pokes Shauna’s brow, “right here.” The finger is instantly replaced with a pair of lips.
Blood rushes through Shauna’s ears, warmth seeping into her skin and dripping down her body. Her fingers twitch against the book. Oh right, Jackie asked her to set it down. She tucks the book under her pillow in a familiar, rehearsed motion.
Jackie leans back, hand stilled on Shauna’s face. And in a very non-Shauna fashion, she pouts, “I do?”
“Yes,” Jackie kisses her brow again for good measure and Shauna squirms, nudging Jackie with her knee. “Now, Shipman-Taylor,” Jackie claps, declaratory, “it’s time for sleep.”
Shauna blushes, eyes averting to the pink and green floral sheets. Chest fizzling the same way it always does when Jackie calls her by their last names together. Humming, Shauna tilts her head forward at the same time Jackie does, noses brushing each other. “Okay.” Shauna agrees, ducking her head to kiss Jackie just barely before she moves down the bed.
They slip down the cotton sheets, Jackie pulling the heavy duvet over their hips. Head pressed to the pillows, Shauna sighs. The weight of the long day finally trickling down her spine and binding her to the bed with exhaustion. It wasn’t a particularly difficult day or anything, but meeting deadlines always stresses Shauna out, ever since she was a young scholar. It’s not that she can’t, but the daunting hang of the timeframe over her head makes her work three times as hard, resulting in an easily disgruntled and exhausted Shauna Shipman.
An adventurous hand slides around under the blanket until it catches Shauna’s, Jackie playing with it with her own delicate fingers. Rubbing her palm and bending her fingers, nothing Shauna is bothered enough by to stop. In fact, Shauna loves when Jackie touches her in these small ways. So small that Shauna knows Jackie isn’t being conscious about it—that she just wants to touch Shauna.
With her free hand, Jackie pulls off her glasses and sets them carefully onto her bedside table with a clack. “The light, Shauna.” Jackie hums, rolling onto her opposite side, hair spilling over the shirt she’s wearing, Shauna’s.
Complying, Shauna pulls the chain of their thrift store lamp, the light dulling. Colour drains from the room until it reaches a deep, fuzzy black. A soft thank you, is hummed by Jackie and Shauna smiles. Rolling herself over, she tangles in the sheets until the thin front of her old soccer shirt is flat to Jackie’s back.
Her free arm sandwiches itself between the pillow and mattress. Jackie brings their joint hands over her shirt, securing Shauna’s hand to her warm body. In a routine nightly gesture, Shauna squeezes Jackie closer to her, nuzzling into the back of her neck. She can hear Jackie humming peacefully and brushes her lips on her shoulder, pressing a kiss to it sweetly.
Silence comes in a snowfall across the room, chilly from the whistling fan, delicate as they shift and mould together. Shauna slipping her leg in between Jackie’s thighs, hand sneaking under the shirt to swirl circles into Jackie’s soft skin. Her eyes falling shut, breathing slowing down and settling between her ribs delicately.
This silence is quickly broken by a loud, mrow. Jackie giggles instantly, however, Shauna finds herself less amused. Typically, this goes one of two ways: Professor Oreo curls up between them or he whisks Jackie back into the kitchen for treats. A possessive rush zips through Shauna and she pulls Jackie closer.
Tutting her tongue, Jackie drifts her fingers over the back of Shauna’s hand when she lets go. Exaggerated dismay fills Shauna, she grumbles, keeping Jackie anchored with the palm of her hand and weight of her arm.
Nose touching the collar of Jackie’s shirt, she hears her croak, “Professor Oreo? Come here.”
Her voice is soft and sweet. Like birdsong in Summer dawn. That’s the way it’s always been. In response though, there’s a quiet little mrrp? And Jackie encourages again, patting the bed with muffled thuds.
Loud thumping follows. Obviously from the professor stomping his way through the room. And then the bed creaks when he jumps onto it, beginning to purr. He purrs like a beast, which Shauna always seems to forget until he does it. A motor engine with freshly changed oil or whatever the fuck. Shauna is not a car person.
Professor Oreo pads across the bed and traverses over their pillows. The pillow dips with the pressure of his paws and absolutely does not let back up once he sprawls out above their heads. “Fucking cat,” she mutters, forehead resting on the back of Jackie’s shoulder.
“Shauna, be nice.” Jackie chastises, “and go to sleep.” Jackie retakes Shauna’s hand in her own, sliding their hands just up to her sternum. Thump, thump, thump. Shauna feels the echoing of Jackie’s heart beating away in the chamber of her ribcage with her hands.
It’s soothing, the monster truck purr of Professor Oreo and the gentle thud of Jackie’s heart. Her breath puffing out every so often. The fan being annoyingly interruptive as always, a breeze of air coating the room with its pleasant presence.
A standard late night in the Shipman-Taylor household.
“I love you, Jax.” Shauna murmurs.
She feels her hand get squeezed and pushed closer to Jackie’s body. “I love you too. Goodnight, babe.”
“Night, sweetie.”