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She hadn’t drank in years, but the neck of the Whiskey bottle she holds loosely between her fingers breaks her twenty odd year sobriety it antagonises her to down the leftover half of the alcohol that swish’s against the thick glass, rich deep liquid teasing her practically singing to her like some sirens song.
She gave drinking up for a good reason after everything that happened out there in the wilderness, she didn’t need some crippling addiction to go alongside it, So she left the bad habit behind to try not get allured into alcohols desired numbing effects.
yet Joan Aubrey Winslow always had a weird way of making her mind spin and once it’s sufficiently been scrambled by her it then tries to turn to the the dumbest shit to try re-centre, on anything other than Joan. Even if now that meant alcohol.
of course These attempts of ‘re-centring’ herself never work, if they had she wouldn’t be here to begin with. It’s been twenty five fucking years, she should’ve been over the blonde approximately twenty two years ago but no. She’s back to trying to give herself alcohol poisoning to make her forget how Joan’s eyes still held a warmth she used to happily drown in as stupid god forsaken teenager, she feels 18 again which makes her skin crawl.
“She’s married and you’re… with someone else” she whispers to herself, it comes out hoarse and weary, Barely convincing. “And”, she stammers over her words for a moment, she’s glad no one is home with her in this moment. “..you LOVE Sloan, you’re happy with your life right now” the sentence has a certain shake to it that reaks of uncertainty especially on how the the word ‘love’ barely gets past her lips.
Pathetic, fucking pathetic Sally.
It’s not like she doesn’t love Sloan, she does she truly does but it’s not the same deeply intertwined spark, it never will be. Deep down they both know this. she sees the look in Sloan’s eyes.
Sally knows She’s definitely to blame for it, she knows that even if she hates to admit it. She should’ve ripped up the photo in her wallet, or thrown away the box of gifts she kept from Joan, if not that she should’ve stopped playing the old songs that used to be Joan’s favourites on loop, maybe even burned the journals where she just went on for pages and pages about everything she loves about Joan.
But instead she could never bring herself to do any of that, it makes her sick to her stomach.
She knows Sloan can see it, she’s not stupid she can clearly see the hurt that flickers when she sees the photo in her wallet and how she avoids anything that could possibly have some connection to Joan, she disgusts herself with how she could do this to someone she loves. even if she at first hadn’t realised the harm it was causing Sloan, because she knows now and still can’t dispose of any of it. She is selfish.
God She knows her son knows too, even if he’s never properly met Joan. She knows he knows of her, he gives her a unreadable look whenever she looks at something too long because he knows it probably has to do with the “blonde in the photo book’ and that’s enough to make her feel like she’s failed.
“Where did I go wrong?” a dry humourless laugh escapes her as her head lulls against the arm of the couch, there’s a slight slur to her words the alcohol sunk in fully now. She Knows a freshly seventeen year old Sally is shaking her head right now. muttering about how she knew this would happen if she got involved with Joan, how Joan Winslow is truly not a good person and that she was right about it the whole time.
But she knows that’s not right either, she knows Joan. The real Joan and that’s why she can’t let go. She bared Joan the rawest parts of herself and Joan reciprocated that laying herself out for Sally, so now they are forever tied together no matter how far away they try to pull they Always come back together, an invisible string always connects them.
So maybe it was the universes big sick cruel joke on her when Joan Winslow showed up at her door on a random Friday afternoon. green eyes met brown again and suddenly she could feel Every little stutter of her heart, Even after all these years, Joan still had an affect on her.
So All she did for a moment was soak her in. desperately and greedily snatching up any scrap of simple attentiveness from the other woman.
She felt her throat be drained of any bit of moisture, She looked incredibly stupid she knows she did, opening and closing her mouth like a damn fish out of water. She doesn’t know what compelled her but she invited Joan in which that only made it all so much worse. As Having Joan in her space surrounded by her things made her mind race with ‘what ifs?’ That she thought died alongside their relationship all those years ago.
“Your place… it’s so you” is what Joan had said to her spinning on her heel to face Sally. blonde hair, now shorter spills over her face as she lets out an half hearted laugh and the smile she directs at Sally? God she was a weak woman. Because she almost buckled right then and there, could’ve stayed in that moment for years if it meant Joan kept looking at her like that. “Is that a diss?” Sally had finally manage to push out, forcing herself to move, a fond and god maybe even a little love struck expression crawls onto her face when Joan reaches out to smack her arm, she’s stronger now. “Oh you’re still such an ass, you know that’s not how I meant it!” The laugh that blooms in her chest is involuntary but she doesn’t try stop it, she dips her head slightly and the world feels like it spins.
“Can never know with you Joan” she jokes and the other woman almost looked offended pushing her hand off Sally’s shoulder with a light yet playful huff.
“So” she wets her lips.
*I love you*
“what brings you to my place Winslow,” she levels out her voice, trying to swallow down anything she knows she shouldn’t say.
*I love you*
“I imagine for something important?” Her throat clears as she finishes talking, suddenly feeling anxious and uncomfortable in her own body. As if not trusting her mind and mouth to not say or do something life altering
*I love you*
“Does there need to be a reason? Can’t I visit an old friend?” The words hurt more than they should, her eyebrows knit tightly together as she stares at Joan.
“Is that really what we were?” The words taste bitter as they slither from her lips, she regrets them immediately because Joan’s face twists in a way she can’t read anymore. The air is no longer light and playful, tension crackles and starts to bubble.
Joan opens her mouth but nothing escapes it before she closes it, eyes no longer trained on Sally and that’s how she truly knows she fucked up. “Sorry” she stutters out turning away, god she needs a drink. “Ignore that please, I- shit I’m sorry Joan” she bites back the rest of her ramble. She spins back to look at the blonde who’s eyes meet hers again, there’s something in them that makes Sally just want to crumple onto the floor, but instead of doing that she breaks eye contact first.
The memory fades out as she’s bought back to the reality of her situation via the sound of the murmur of the stupid rom com that plays mindlessly in the background.
“Get it together asshole” she groans slurring through the whole sentence. roughly and unsteadily her hand comes up to push away her hair from out of her face, movements sluggish and sloppy the alcohol made her tired and after the earlier events of the day she wish she could slip into some never ending slumber.
Yet instead of succumbing to that wish of sleep, she Somehow manages to place the half empty bottle to the side without much incident, it wobbles slightly at being put down so roughly but doesn’t fall and smash, she thanks god that it didn’t cause that may just be been her last straw, but now with the bottle to the side her hands feel empty, they twitch for her phone.
It’s a sore sight if you were to watch her right about now, she’s loose and so uncoordinated that she barely makes it past holding her phone steady, let alone unlocking it. Though after five minutes that feels more like hours she gets into it and her fingers drag her to her contacts, they hover over Joan’s name. Her hand shakes and she’ll blame it on the alcohol, just like how she’ll blame her eyes starting to blur on how she’s drunk and not the fact she’s crying.
It was deadly for her to have this much contact with Joan, she should’ve slammed the door in the woman’s face today. Kept deep rooted feelings buried, but she is truly a byproduct of her own hubris. She had told herself she had moved on, that everything was just fine and Dandy that Joan was just a chapter in her life, one that she had convinced herself that she had ripped out,
But in this moment it truly hits her how much she has fucked up, not just herself but her relationships. She feels herself move before her brain has a chance to catch up.
“FUCK!” The cry breaks from her, shaky and animalistic it scares her.
all this because she just can’t get over the one who got away, shit it was pathetic. She was horrible, she went through so much out in the wilderness and this is what breaks her after all these years? God Sally get up and stop whining, what is your fucking problem?
So when She shoots up to stand on wobbly legs it doesn’t surprise her foggy brain when the tears keep streaming down her face nor does it surprise her when she hears the phone shatter against the floor with a harsh crack. It slides and slides on the tiles until it makes contact with the wall with a thud, the outburst brings a loudness that hadn’t been there all night but just as it arrives it falls away, back into the same uncomfortable quietness that Sally is starting to hate.
The guttural sob that wracks through her body hits her next, it rips at her throat with a raw desperation she hasn’t felt in years.
stumbling she crumples into a mess on the floor, clawing at her chest just trying to feel something that isn’t the tightness in her throat or the stinging in her eyes, she feels herself talk feels her throat bob as she speaks to herself, But she can’t even make out what she says nor can she hear her thoughts coherently, she tries everything to try ground herself but nothing works instead she succumbs to it all, too worn down to do much more.
She’s so small like this, so weak and fragile. Watching her trying to cradle herself makes the image of fragility much clearer. No one ever saw her like this, she was always described as the put together one of the group, after everything that happened she’s still seen as this strong presence.
Fuck were they all so wrong about that because all that it took was her ex walking back into her life to have her curled into the Fetal position on a Friday night, drunk off her face on whiskey.
She was far from put together and the only other person who knew that to the fullest extent was Joan, she saw her out in the wilderness, she held her when no one else wanted to even look at her after she accidentally pulled the trigger. So maybe that’s why Sally tries to hold her own face the same way Joan did to her that night and maybe that’s why she tries to speak the same words Joan did to calm her down all the way back then.
The gestures don’t work on her, because it’s not Joan doing them. She tries to close her eyes to trick herself into thinking it Joan’s hand that holds her face but the memory it’s so blurry and distorted she can’t make out what Joan said to her anymore.
“No no no no please” the words spill out her mouth, choking up on every little syllable. she squeezes her eyes tighter because in her drunken distraught brain that means she’s focusing harder like how a kid thinks if they close their eyes a monster can’t get them.
Sobbing turns into dry heaving and it tears at her body in way she didn’t think possible, as no matter what she does she keeps making it worse for herself. she knows she should stop thinking of Joan because it’s only making it worse, and it has been for years now. but it’s the only thing her brain can conjure up that used to equate to comfort, it’s like her brain hasn’t caught up with all the years between now and that moment.
It's trying to keep her in a moment that saved her so many times before yet after seeing Joan again in person after such a long span of years it doesn’t bring her that warmth or comfort. It just makes her spiral further because now? Now she knows this gap between them is permanent, she doesn’t know or understand why it only just hits her now but Nonetheless she knows they can never fully mend the gap between them.
it’s for the best really it’s for both of their sakes, At least that’s what she says to try convince herself. She forces herself through the haze of her drunken spiralling to realise keeping each-other at arms length is good, it will keep their lives from fully shattering to a million tiny unfixable shards. It will keep their lives as they are now in tact.
So as she sinks into the cold tiles of her homes floor, she comes to the conclusion that will stick to her for the rest of her life.
No matter who she is or how much she grows it is always Joan, it has always been Joan for as long as she lives and for whatever universe she ends up after this one, Joan was always her reason for everything