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Helen entered the house with a cheery cliche. “Hi honey, I’m home!” The domesticity was a comfort, the knowledge that she was returning to a loving wife waiting for her. Even if it was rewarded with an eyeroll or sarcastic comment. She waited for the reply. She wasn’t expecting a song and dance at her return, but at least for Carol to make the effort to get up off the lounger to greet her would be nice.
She dumped her bag and kicked off her shoes. “Carol?” She called out again. She turned the corner into the kitchen, a clear view into the garden through the screen doors, expecting to find her wife lazing on the sun lounger where she left her a few hours ago. She was surprised to see nothing but the blanket they were laying under together before she left sitting on the chair. She frowned. Maybe Carol was upstairs, maybe inspiration had struck, making her race to the study to scrabble down the latest detail of the in-progress draft of Wycaro.
The landline handset was empty, the red light was blinking. ‘1 New Message’ on the display. She looked for the phone. It was laying on the ground. She pressed play on the handset before bending down to pick up the phone.
“Hi Carol, this is Reba Weathers. I am - or was, I should say, - your mother’s caretaker.”
Shit. She stopped, her knees still bent as she crouched, the phone now in hand.
“Your mother died last night. She’d been battling cancer for quite a while now as you probably knew,”
Helen didn’t know that. If Carol knew, she certainly hadn’t mentioned it. Unlikely, as she knew Carol hadn’t seen or talked to her mother in years. When Carol had met Helen’s family, Helen’s mother asked all the typical questions, “.. what about you, my dear? Any siblings? How are your parents?”
Carol had very quickly cut her off. “I don’t have any. My father is long gone, and I don't have a mother.” Her finality in tone had quelled any of Helen’s mother’s interrogating questions.
“I thought you might want to know. The burial is next week… you can still say goodbye to her before that.”
Helen stood up. She placed the receiver on the bunker without looking, her feet already moving. She didn’t know if Carol had heard all the message, but based on the discarded phone she had heard at least some of it. She quickly stuck her head round the living room door, checking the couch, the corners of the room. At least the liquor cabinet was closed, Helen thought.
“You should also know that you are her sole beneficiary.”
That stopped her in her tracks. The absolute audacity of that woman. Carol had talked very little about her mother, but what she had said had ingrained a hatred so deep into Helen’s heart. To do what she did, to leave Carol with such unspeakable trauma, to then leave her an inheritance? The only thing Carol had inherited from that monster was damage and cruelty.
The handset beeped, signifying the end of the message. “Carol?” She called out, her voice now tinged with worry. She quickly started making her way up the stairs, not minding her feet as she ran, her eyes already pointed upwards to the landing. She didn’t think of her socks slipping on the wood.
She checked the study, empty. The laptop closed, and nothing but yesterday's notes scribbled on the white board above the desk.
She made her way into the bedroom, the sheets were untouched, nothing was broken. Nothing had been swiped off the surfaces, no cabinets or mirrors were smashed. The room was as clean as it was when they woke this morning.
The bathroom light was on. She slowed down, no longer running. She wasn’t sure when she had started breathing so fast, but she felt frantic. Possibilities raced through her mind as to what laid behind that door. Carol’s reactions were unpredictable, they swung like a pendulum. Especially at any mention of her mother. Either apathetic shrugs with an offhanded comment, or rage so hot it threatened to spill from her like spat lava. A trait Helen expected was part of that cruel inheritance. Very rarely though, Carol withdrew completely. These episodes were few and far between.
The first time it happened, after a careless joke about conversion therapy from their mutual friend's stand-up show, Helen panicked and thought of absent seizures, based on the detached, unseeing eyes she stared into. Nothing she did could drag her then-girlfriend from the pit of darkness she was stuck in.
After the second, over a year later, Helen dragged Carol to a therapist. ‘Absent dissociative episodes’, the doctor called them. There was nothing to do except wait for them to pass, no matter how many hours it took. They left with a leaflet on grounding techniques and breathing exercises. Helen found the crumpled paper in the bin a few days later.
She wondered which of these states she would find Carol in today. It had been such a lovely day. But they could never be happy for too long, before something came to ruin it.
𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏
They had lazed in bed, wrapped around each other, legs tangled. Until Helen’s stomach started to rumble, at which Helen dragged Carol downstairs to the kitchen, where Carol made her a beautiful omelette, filled with butter and cheese, and the zaatar they got from the market a few days ago. Carol was full of jokes, grumpy at being forced to leave the safety and warmth of their bed, but as reactive to touch as ever. Helen whispered into her ear as Carol poked at the omelette in the pan. She reveled in her reaction as Helen’s arms wrapped around her waist, as Carol leaned into the weight when Helen laid her head on the crux of her shoulder. They swayed lightly, no sounds but their breaths and the sizzle of the oil. Helen hummed, pressing long but light kisses to Carol’s neck.
Carol had whined when Helen removed her arms. She pulled a plate out of the drawer and placed it on the bunker, leaving her with a kiss on the cheek. “I’ll be in the garden. Don’t leave me waiting too long.”
She got herself comfortable in the chair, fluffing the blanket up over her legs, and waited for her wife to emerge with the breakfast. Well, it could hardly be called breakfast, it was almost midday. The list of errands she had to run was weighing on her mind, but they could wait. She could enjoy this day as it came.
Carol was taking her sweet time, Helen was sure she was making her wait on purpose, just because Helen told her not to.
When Carol did appear, Helen was prepared to make a snippy comment, but her breath caught in her throat. It didn’t matter how many years passed, Carol still had the ability to make Helen stall, to let her words die in her throat. As Carol came out of the kitchen towards her, she stopped. “What’s wrong?” Carol asked.
Helen couldn’t find the words to explain herself. As Carol stood before her, the sun gently casting a bright glare that caused her to squint and caught her hair so intensely it glowed, Helen was sure she had never felt more in love. Nothing of their romance in their late twenties could compare to this. “Nothing.” Helen replied.
Carol took a few steps forwards, holding the plate like it was about to run away. “Then why are you looking at me like that.” It wasn’t a question, it was a statement. To stop making her stress, to stop planting worries in her mind.
Helen finally smiled, her body catching up with her brain’s ecstasy. “I love you.”
Carol looked even more worried now. “What? Where’s this coming from?”
Helen shook her head. “I don’t know, just you, just this morning. I love you.”
Carol scoffed. “Sap.” But Helen could see the doubt underneath. Sure, she was making fun of her, but it came from a place deep down. Carol was daring Helen to pull away, to shout ‘SIKE! AS IF!’ To pretend this had been nothing more than a play-along-joke. Over ten years as a dare, or a ruse.
“I’m serious. I love you.” Helen’s eyes focused. Carol shrunk under them. Only then did Helen notice the two beer bottles clutched in her hand under the plate. She chose to ignore them, bringing up Carol’s weekend day-drinking would not win her any favours here.
“Put that stuff down, and come here.” Helen said. Carol did as ordered, setting the growing-cold plate of food and two beers on the table between the two loungers. She sat on the edge of the chair, above the blanket that covered Helen’s lap.
Helen half sighed, half laughed. “Not like, ugh just come here.” She pulled the blanket off, and grabbed Carol’s shoulder, pulling her down to lay next to her. Carol squirmed, laughing at being manhandled. Helen covered them both with the blanket again.
As she spoke softly, Carol relaxed under her words. Soft touches against her cheek, lazy kisses and gentle hands. They had all the time in the world.
𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏𓏏
Helen approached the door with a shaky step. She didn't know what she would find behind the door. Really, she hoped for anger. That would at least be healthy, or healthier than the other options. No drawers were opened, there were no sharp objects missing from the kitchen at least. She wasn’t sure why that worry sprung to mind first, Carol sure had self-destructive tendencies, but none that could be classed as self-harming. But images of a red filled bathtub still came to mind, or blood splattered across the tiles as Carol clutched her wrists.
She forced herself to take a breath. Calm down, she told herself. Carol was probably fine. She was probably just on the toilet, or maybe about to take a shower.
Helen opened the door to find an empty bathroom. She stalled, this was the last room in the house. She scanned the room, wait. There Carol was, curled into a tiny ball. Her knees tucked up to her chest, her arms wrapped around them so her elbows cupped her legs. Her hands were holding her shins, keeping her legs close.
“Carol?” Helen said, her voice quieter than she meant it to be. She needed to be strong right now.
Her wife didn’t reply. Shit, an episode. She looked impossibly small. Smaller than Helen had seen her in years. Not physically, but mentally. Helen approached her like a stray animal, about to scarper. She knelt down to meet her level. Her hand wavered as it reached out, hesitant. She thought back to the doctor’s words, sometimes in these episodes a grounding touch could feel a lot like a strangling hand.
She pushed through anyway, reaching out to Carol in the darkness, resting it on Carol’s knee. Helen hoped her hand could be a lifeline, not a vice grip. A rope for Carol to pull herself out of the pit she was stuck in.
“Carol, Baby, come on.” Helen lightly shook Carol’s knee, just a tiny movement. She watched Carol’s eyes. There was absolutely no reaction, just glazed over indifference. It was like Helen wasn’t even in the room. She moved closer, keeping the hand on her knee as an anchor, she pulled herself closer. She moved the other hand up, cupping Carol’s cheek. “Come on Baby, look at me.” Helen begged as she moved the hand from Carol’s cheek to softly smooth her hair. When that did nothing, she ran the hand down to slide across her shoulder, rubbing gently.
Helen pressed her lips together and waited. Only time would help right now, time and patience. She kept her movement slow and consistent.
For a long while, nothing changed. Helen stayed, watching the blankness in her wife’s eyes. Waiting for any indication she was still in there. She didn’t know how much time had passed. Five minutes, maybe ten. It felt longer.
Helen had stopped rubbing Carol’s shoulder, but kept her hand placed on her knee.
Carol’s eyes flickered. It was such a small movement, Helen was surprised she caught it. It was proof of awareness, for however fleeting. Helen felt a rush of relief so strong it almost made her gasp. But she forced herself to stay calm. Too much would overwhelm Carol right now, and push her back down the pit. Her hand stayed where it was, keeping the lifeline steady. She watched as Carol blinked once, shifting her eyes to focus on Helen.
She still looked distant, her face blank, her eyes still empty and unfocused. But now at least she was looking at Helen, kind of. Helen still got the feeling she was more looking through her, rather than at her.
“Hi baby.” Helen tried a small smile. It came out forced, which probably wasn’t helping, so she dropped it.
Carol still didn’t answer. Helen swallowed, fighting the urge to pull her close immediately. But she knew she had to let Carol return at her own pace.
Carol’s eyes focused properly. It sent a chill through Helen’s body. “My mother is dead.”
Helen nodded. There was nothing she could say. She wouldn’t apologise, she didn’t feel sorry for Carol losing her mother. The world probably just got a little lighter without that woman in it. “I know.”
She leaned forwards and pressed a soft kiss against Carol’s temple before wrapping her arms around her. Carol didn’t immediately respond, whilst she didn’t reciprocate the hug, she didn’t push her away or freeze rigid. She simply stayed as distant and detached as before.
Then her shoulders sagged. Her hands clutching her shins loosed, falling limply against the sides of her body. She melted into Helen’s body, accepting the comfort for what it was, unconditional love with no expectations of anything in return. Helen loved her, full stop.
Helen didn’t say anything, she knew no gentle comforts would help this. They sat together in silence. She felt Carol’s head tuck into her body. That tiny movement meant the world. It was Carol saying she wanted Helen there, that just her presence was enough.