Like Real People Do

33. Various Storms and Saints

TW: Self-Harm, Alcoholism

Now I'm in the throes of it, somewhere in the belly of the beast. But you took your toll on me, so I gave myself over willingly. I don't know how I don't just stand outside and scream. -Florence and the Machine

Friday, September 3rd

It had been two years since Agnes died. Three since they parted ways for the last time. September 3rd, 2019, Rhiannon received the call from her mother that would set her on the darkest path she'd ever set foot on. The last anniversary was clouded by poor physical health and her constant refusal to do much of anything about it. Rhiannon was sick at the time, but not sick enough to be committed involuntarily. She just sat in near complete silence with Sara in their family home and let the day consume her. That was all it ever did- eat away at every thought in her head until everything was Agnes. Her laugh, her smile, her tarot cards, her eyes fixed on the ceiling while she lay on her back growing colder. The memory was like a parasite, and Rhiannon was already drained of everything that she possibly had to offer.

She tried to ignore the calendars as much as possible leading up to today, and so far, it had been working well enough. There were crops to be tended, trucks to fix, and tarot cards to be read that kept her mind off the rapidly approaching anniversary. All she could do was fill her head with anything else before it was inevitably overtaken by memories she would never get back, and a day she wasn't present for. Maybe the mundane shit would be enough to cushion the impact, but maybe she was fighting a losing battle to start with. The more Agnes had to grab onto, the deeper her roots would grow. She had such a way of infecting everything, especially now with the perfect conditions to thrive. Rhiannon just wanted to enjoy watching the tail end of summer melt into fall, but the parasite decided that she would just watch her best friend fade to nothing every time she closed her eyes.

Shane already knew. Of course. She confessed the significance of this day over their bonfire a few weeks prior and he was already planning before the words left her mouth. Rhiannon was not one for sharing, but she also never had someone who's heart beat as closely to hers as Shane's did. Talking about her feelings and her life with him didn't feel like the draining experience she was used to. She often picked her words carefully and stood on guard around the darkest parts of who she was, but something about him made it flow out of her like a river. She trusted he would never look at her differently no matter what kind of horrors she laid to bare. Where everyone else only saw all the places she was breaking, he looked for the things that made her strong.

Rhiannon never thought the tables would turn on her the way they did with Shane. When he looked at her with those sad green eyes, something snapped in her brain. It reawakened the part of her that needed to help, that thrived on all the things that she could do for others. The part that led her to Agnes in the first place, then held her head underwater when she passed. It was always the same story- ignore what was eating her in favor of what was eating them. Her hands had to be meant for something other than the destruction they often brought upon her own body. She could use them to heal, to lift others up, to hold them in their time of need. How she found herself in Shane's hands for the same purpose, Rhiannon would never know. She wasn't used to letting herself be taken care of, spilling her guts, or letting her walls down, but he made it easy for her.

I love you.

He said it to her clear as day, and she was paralyzed to respond. I love you was not a sentence that held a significant place in her vocabulary. The Turners were not an emotional bunch, and Rhiannon never learned how to give and receive love so freely. She never even worked up the nerve to tell Agnes how she felt before it was too late. She loved him, though. She loved him with her whole fucking heart. She loved his meadow-green eyes and crooked row of bottom teeth. She loved his soft-spoken nature disguised by his chronic bad moods and stoic appearance. He listened to her without judgement, and let her use those hands to patch up his wounds in the process. This was so much more than the savior complex she rolled in with, and Rhiannon was in too deep to care. Sometimes, she still felt guilty about letting him dote on her, but she let him anyway because no one else ever had.