Today, everything is too loud.
The minimalistic clock above the dining room table going tick-tock. Tick-tock. Tick-tock. Jake having cereal this morning, the crunch of them, the spoon scraping against the inside of the bowl. The familiar chime of her phone as a text falls into her family's group chat—Kelly checking in, Andrea asking where her glasses are (perched atop her head, Stella guesses), Faye sharing an old memory having popped up in her camera roll.
And now, the furious sizzling of the pan.
Moving around the kitchen, Stella lacks grace. Cupboard doors fall shut with a bang as she releases them from her hold, the content of the kitchen drawers rattle as she pulls them out, the pan clatters deafeningly against metal as she slams it into the sink, a creatively strung together sentence of curse words slipping her lips.
She had known the eggs were a bad idea. Attempting to make lunch, however simple, had been a bad idea. Nothing works in her favor today; she broke her favorite chapstick—the cherry flavored one—off first thing this morning. During breakfast, where she barely managed to get any food down anyways, she spilled coffee all over her pristinely white button-down. She hasn't even been into the water today, hasn't even been down to the dock. And a few hours ago, once she finally pulled herself up from her bed, fighting against every thread of anxiety held in the pockets of her body, she somehow managed to stub her toe on the staircase to the downstairs.
Watching the mess that is her eggs trickle out of the pan, pooling in a burnt mess, she attempts to collect herself.
She does her best to let her breath fill her lungs, inhale-exhale-inhale-exhale, but the air is strained. If anything, her breaths only make matters worse, closing in on her until nothing but tension consumes her chest. Much like how, on a warm summer's day, one makes the mistake of opening up a window to let some air in—only to have the humidity of the outside fill the space with stifling heat instead.
Overcome by frustration, Stella launches the spatula still held in her hand into the sink, tears already prickling her eyes as she watches it bounce against the pan with a bang.
As Stella's vision turns hazy, her knees grow weak. Slamming down hard against the floor, her head falls between her trembling hands in defeat.
Bringing one of her hands to her throat, she presses two cold fingers against it to force down the lump there, barely able to exhale through the tension—anger, sadness, frustration, hopelessness—consuming her body.
Out of the corner of her eye, she notices Jake come through the sliding doors of the patio. Pulling a rumpled black t-shirt on over his head, he regards her with faint alarm. A frown shapes his lips as he takes in the sight of her—knees pressed to her chest, creating creases in her white blouse, one clammy palm still held to her head.
"What's going on?"
An exhale resembling a sigh tickles Stella's lips as she lets her head fall back, eyes swiveling up to the high ceiling. "I can't do anything right."
Jake's voice drops in concern. "Are you okay?"
Shrugging, Stella lets her finger draw a line on the floorboard next to her—brushing against the hem of her denim shorts. "I'm fine."
A shaky breath slips her lips, and her head falls to her palm as tears stain her eyes once more. Pinching the bridge of her nose, she imagines the square Ms Flores always speaks of. Tries to line her breathing with its lines and corners. She's always hated that square.
"Stells?" Jake prompts and her eyes fly open at the proximity of his voice to find he's crouching down before her, his gaze steady—unwavering—as it searches hers.
"I just–," Stella bites down on her lip, worries it between her teeth. "I'm just tired,"
It's true. She's barely slept at all.
Instead, she tossed and turned. Sat up, lied down. Propped her window open to let in some fresh air, listened to the crickets thrumming in the dark night. Closed her eyes only to have them spring back open seconds later as the scenes of the dreams—nightmares—having awoken her in the first place flashed before her. Flipped her pillow to the cold side. And then flipped her pillow again. And again. Tossed and turned. Desperate to fall back asleep, desperate to stay awake. Got up to close the window, covered in cold sweat. Pulled her cover up to her shoulders, fingers curling around its soft edges, only to kick it back down a heartbeat later. Sat leant against the headboard; attempted to read the one paperback she brought with her from home, attempted to take on a crossword to make hours pass. Flipped through an issue of Cosmopolitan. And then another.
As the sun rose at the crack of dawn, she had fallen too deep, had been holding too much within to even attempt to get up for her morning swim as usual. Instead, she found herself stuck in a bed she wanted nothing but to get out of, too exhausted to try until a couple of hours later.
Pushing her tears back, she lets her lips fall into a line but her attempt at a stoic surface betrays her as she speaks, voice breaking through her thick throat. "I didn't sleep that well."
"Hey," Jake softens in an instant, hands lifting on their own accord as if he wants to reach for her. They hover above her knees for a beat before he withdraws them, letting his elbows come to rest against his thighs instead. "Why didn't you sleep?"
Stella swallows, running her thumb roughly over the few tears having prickled her cheekbone. She knows healing isn't linear—deep within, she knows that—but she flushes warmth with annoyance either way. She should be better now. She's done the work. She's doing the work. All she's asking for in return is some peace.
She's about to shrug it off, the last thing she wants is to weigh Jake down with her demons, but as she lifts her gaze to his something falters within. Maybe its the intent in his dark eyes, blending so well with the notion of empathy always lingering there. Maybe it's just him. Maybe it's this house; this house that she, too, has begun to view as a home.
"Nightmares," She says, a bitter tone creeping into her voice. "They happen."
Only she'd been foolish enough to believe they were gone, once and for all. For one brief moment, she'd let them evaporate from her mind. She'd taken her eyes off the road, only to have them slam into her when she wasn't looking—like a truck on an intersection.
Words seem to linger at the tip of Jake's tongue as he considers her, brows drawing together as if he wants to tap her mind, make sense of what's going on in there but instead he lets his mouth fall into a small smile.
Sympathy dances over his lips as he says. "Must be hard."
"Yeah," Stella wrings her hands together, a heavier beat to her heart as it drops deeper in her chest. "I didn't see it coming is all. I haven't– it's been a while,"
Before he can utter a response, she flickers her gaze around the kitchen and speaks again. "Sorry about the mess."
Jake's shoulder lifts in a half-shrug, the perfect companion to his smile: one corner of his lips tugging up. "I'll take care of it."
"You don't have to do that."
"I want to."
She's about to object but the exhaustion creeps over her once more, settling in her bones as her breath hitches on an inhale as she nods. "Thanks."
Jake reaches out, carefully cupping her elbows in support. "Let's get you off the floor."
Stella tries for a smile, but it doesn't sprawl over her features, letting herself be pulled to her feet.
Stood mere inches apart, Jake's palms still warm against the skin of her elbows, she notices a flicker of something cross his features. He rolls his lips together—cheekbones high, cheeks hollow in the wake of the grin he usually sports—as he regards her.
A moment of inaction passes and then, very softly, he asks, "Can I hug you?"
Stella's heart catches in her throat. Sometimes, she does let herself fall into one of her mothers' embraces; into Faye's. She's lost count of how many times she's returned a hug, leant her head upon their shoulders, let her palm melt into one of theirs—it's been something she's been able to give to them, when they most need it, even though she doesn't particularly want it for herself. But here, now, stood in front of Jake all she can think about is how much she could use a hug. How much she wants it.
"Yes."
The one word is enough to have Jake pull her into his embrace; with one tug of her elbow, he's closed his arms tight around her—enveloping her in his warmth.
Stella's throat tightens as she relaxes, the tears prickling her eyes now there by an entirely different reason than before.
Releasing a long breath, she lifts her arms to loop loosely around Jake's waist. Her lips crack the faintest hint of a smile, rounding her cheeks as she notices how tension fades within her. Sensing it fade from him underneath her touch as well.
Stood there, in the hold of someone who isn't her mothers or Faye—nose buried in the fabric of his shirt, the familiar citrus scent tickling her nose, his heartbeat steady against her own—, her past self floats to the forefront of her mind: the Stella she used to be.
The Stella who poured of herself, happily so. Not in the way her sister pours of herself—selflessly, always there to catch everyone else's fall—but in her own way. That version of her used to be bubbly. Carefree. She chatted with other girls in public bathrooms, the words tumbling off her tongue as she touched up on her make-up underneath the poor lights. She asked strangers to watch her things in coffee shops. She could—if she wanted to—light up a room with her smile.
She did all that, and still protected her future: her ambition, every step of her laid out plan of making a career out of her honed swimming skills. There were walls; walls she'd placed there to make sure nothing got in her way—a reassurance, something to hide behind during the times she needed to do nothing but focus on herself.
Those walls were too thin: they were crashed into and crumbled to dust. Allowed her space to be invaded, her peace to be disrupted.
Over the years, in their stead, she built new walls. Stronger walls. Unmovable walls. To keep herself in, to keep everyone else out. Somehow though, with her bare feet planted on the wooden floorboards of the kitchen, she senses a faint breeze. The slightest shake. A flutter of hope. As if maybe—when the time is right, with her say-so—these walls, too, are destroyable.
Jake doesn't let go off her, doesn't let his arms fall back to his sides, until she does.
Slipping her arms through his, she steps out of his hold. She tucks a few errant strands of her hair behind her ears, rolling her lips together with a small smile as she beelines for the mess she's left in the sink—only to have Jake intercept her way.
"Told you I've got it."
Stella's lips part with a puff of air, head slanted to her side. "Are you sure?"
"Yes."
"Okay. Thanks," She's about to step away as she's struck by another thought, having an unprompted groan tear from her throat. "I still haven't had anything to eat."
"I'll whip something up for us."
"Jake."
"Stells."
A chortled sigh escapes Stella's lips as she shoots him a glance. "You don't have to dote on me."
"I'm not doting on you," Jake's mouth lift into an upward tilt, smile-marks twitching in his cheek. "I'm making sure you don't burn the house down."
"Funny."
Relief flickers over his features at the sight of her small smile. "I know, right?"
Sensing a small piece of the barrier she's so carefully constructed between herself and the world chip away, Stella takes a step back, casually crossing her arms over her chest.
"Running helps," Jake says with his back to her as he begins to clean up the mess she's left all over the stove and counter. He pauses, shooting her a glance over his shoulder. "For me. When I want to get my mind off things."
Stella grimaces, the word 'run' instantly taking her back to dreaded dry-land practices. "Sounds lovely."
"Not a fan?"
"If you see me running then you better run too, because I don't run unless something's chasing me."
Jake chokes on a laugh as he opens a cupboard. "Noted."
He fills a glass of water, sliding it across the kitchen island to her. Her fingers close around it, the surface cold against her fingertips. "Thanks."
Lifting the glass to her lips, she rests her hip against the counter. And though nothing in this world could ever have her strap on a pair of runner shoes by choice, the thought of a run does have another idea take shape in her mind. She's carrying far too much anxious tension—too much restless energy—within her to be able to simply lay out in the sun today, to enjoy hours spent on the dock. But there is one thing she can do: the very thing she does best.
Dive in.
━ ♡♡♡ ━
Stella swims back and forth. Familiar white noise soothing her as she focuses on the steady beat of her heart, on the strain of her muscles, on the burn in her lungs. Surfacing, only for a beat, she's met with the sounds of summer—chirping birdsong, the whoosh of swaying trees, kids playing a few houses down.
With every stroke she senses herself grow both stronger and more tired simultaneously. Every stroke rattling her lungs, every stroke raising the beat of her heart. Back and forth.
A while ago, she took a pause as Jake came carrying their lunch. They ate sat at the dock, plates in hands and their legs dangling over the edge, toes grazing the calm surface of the water. Jake had insisted he would bring their dishes back into the house, and she'd let him—having watched him disappear up the slight hill of their lawn before diving back in.
She breaks routine once more as Fizzy's distant cries drift her way. Treading water, she gazes toward the dock where Fizzy is again stood at the dock's end, her eyes set on Stella as her wails grow louder.
With a few slow breaststrokes, Stella swims over to the dog. Her fingers curl around the edge of the dock, hanging there as she peers up at the dog. Fizzy wags her tails as she blinks down at her, nudging Stella straight in her face—rather violently bumping their noses together—and Stella winces with chortled breath.
"Hi Fiz," She says, softly reassuring the dog for the third time since she first dove into the lake today. "I'm fine, see?"
Satisfied for now, Fizzy lets out a puff of air through her nose as she drops onto the dock with a thud, head coming to rest atop one of her paws. Her gaze never drifts far, always trailing Stella out of the corner of her eye as she swims further out and returns to her routine. Back and forth—taking her mind off everything but the water.
How it feels between her fingers as she slices them through the surface, the precision of her every kick, how to angle herself to best use the strength of her left and right sides equally. On the breaths helping to prevent her from inhaling half the lake, on her steady sure pace. On the push and pull. On carrying herself through the water and—when her strength falters—letting it carry her, too.
She emerges from the lake a while later, her muscles straining under the pressure as she flattens her palms to the edge of the dock and heaves herself up. Limbs heavy, a tingle runs through her as her heart thunders, pulse beating hard enough to sense.
Disregarding any worries of splinters, Stella falls back onto the dock. Water trails along her features, pooling onto the wooden planks as their warmth—the sun's rays having beaten down on them for hours—seeps into her skin.
Where she lies in the shade of a bush, Fizzy rises to move across the dock. Stella's lips lift into a small smile as the dog sidles up next to her, her fur warm as it tickles Stella's leg.
Stella's chest rises and falls to the beat of her breath, exhaustion setting in as she gazes up at the sky. She squints at the sun, letting her eyes trail the blurred edges of the white clouds: specks of spun sugar on a canvas of blue, they drift past at an unhurried pace.
━ ♡♡♡ ━
Stepping onto the patio, Stella quickly flies across it—legs flailing—, the stone scorching hot agains the soles of her bare feet.
She slides through the sliding doors to the kitchen, stopping herself from gripping the floor-length curtains to steady herself as she spits out an, "Ow, ow, ow."
Where he's stood by the staircase, Jake glances up from his phone. A hint of amusement dances over his lips as he crosses the open-concept first floor into the kitchen. "Hey."
"Hello."
He puts his phone down on the counter, grabbing a KitKat bar from the pantry instead. "Feeling better?"
Stella smiles as Jake breaks the KitKat bar in two and hands her one of the pieces. "A little bit, yeah."
And she is.
She's still worn out from her sleepless night but she's not as restless anymore, doesn't carry as much anxiety in her limbs—she's not reminded of it with every move she makes, not even the sound of the clock on the wall bothers her much anymore.
Biting into the chocolate, she flattens her palms on the counter of the kitchen island and effortlessly levers herself up so she's seated upon it. She watches Jake as he walks over to the fridge, yanking the door open to peer into the vast, nearly empty, space.
"What do you think about pasta for dinner?" He asks. "And a simple watermelon salad, maybe?"
Stella—though she can hardly call herself a believer—shoots a quick prayer to whoever's listening above for sending Jake her way three weeks ago. If it hadn't been for his presence in the house she'd be living on a diet of grilled cheese, apple slices and popsicles alone.
She speaks through another bite of the KitKat. "Sounds great."
Letting the door to the fridge fall shut, Jake pours them each a glass of lemon iced tea. "You want anything else from the store?"
"Not really. Are you fine going on your own?"
"Yeah. I'll just have to take Fiz out for a quick walk but then I'll head into town."
Fizzy—having followed Stella, at her heels, into the house—reacts to her name, wagging her tail where she's sat between them.
Stella meets the dog's kind, expectant, hazel eyes. "I can take Fizzy for a walk."
"Are you sure?"
"Of course," Stella lifts the glass of iced tea to her lips and catches the flicker of hesitance touching Jake's features. "Really. I should try to get out of here for a bit anyways."
He gives her a small nod. "Okay."
Finishing her piece of the KitKat, Stella tightens her hold on the glass of iced tea and jumps off the counter. She better change into something that's not an oversized t-shirt dampened by her bikini.
"Meet me back here in a while then?" She asks. "You cook and I pretend to help?"
Jake's lips lift into a wider smile—instantly becoming more recognizable as the Jake she knows—at her lighthearted tone. "It's a date,"
She's just crossed into the living room as Jake speaks again, bringing her to a halt.
"Stells?"
Stella's free hand comes to the bookcase stood on the imagined threshold of the two rooms, fingers curling around the wood as she leans back on her heels to peer at Jake. "Yes?"
He slowly taps his fingers against the glass in his hand, the other rubbing the nape of his neck. A beat of silence passes between them, his smile softening ever so slightly.
"You can come to me you know. If you can't sleep– not like...," He trails off, hand falling to his side. "We can put that movie on, the one you used to be so obsessed with—the one with the horse."
The corners of Stella's lips tug back further. She senses some of the lasting tension from her night of tossing and turning fade as her smile rounds her cheeks. "Flicka."
"Flicka. Right," Jake leans back against the kitchen counter. "We could do that, you know. Make a movie night out of it until you feel ready to go back to bed."
A flutter of warmth expands Stella's chest. "Jake that's really sweet, but you don't have to–," She cuts herself off, rolling her lips together. "I'll be okay. In time."
"I know,"
He says it so simply, as if he truly believes it. Truly believes she will be okay, in time. Watching the certainty in his eyes, Stella's throat tightens, heartbeat slowing as it drops deeper into her chest.
"I'm just saying we can," He continues. "If the moment comes. If you want to."
Swallowing, Stella nods once. "Thank you."
━ ♡♡♡ ━
The town is alive today. Weaving through neighborhoods, Fizzy and Stella passes a family as they cram into a car—seeming to be dressed in their finest evening attire. Three teenagers come riding bicycles from the opposite way, hair still damp as it flows behind them in the light breeze. One man's stood in his driveway, shouting to his neighbor. He's holding a toddler in his embrace, motioning to the cone of ice cream in the child's hand.
"We did buy the ice cream to have for dessert!" He yells to his friend. "But they melt so awfully fast!"
A woman is sat on the front porch of the same house, headphones in her ears and a cube of watermelon speared on the fork in her hand. Two houses down, an older man leans out the window, wiping the glass of the shield clean.
Two children are stood mesmerized by the edge of their garden, watching a buzzing bee as it hovers above a bright pink flowerbed.
Fizzy trots by her side as they make their way out of the neighborhood, following the narrow gravel path down to the lake. Stella exchanges smiles with a pregnant woman out on a run before continuing onto an even narrower path running along the water.
The breeze is clearer down here, and though she's twisted her hair into a bun at the back of her head, a few dark brown errant strands still whip Stella in the forehead as the wind pulls at them.
Angling her face toward the sky, she gazes up at the trees and watches the green blur as the crowns sway majestically above.
She veers off the path soon afterwards, right where the trees begin to clear and beelines for the lake. It stretches far and wide, the blue of the sky melting together with the darker shade of the blue water.
Sinking into a seat atop a small boulder, Stella gazes out at the lake as she inhales the dewy, earthy scent of nature. Swirls of pink has crept into the skyline, a warm contrast to the fading light of the early evening sun as it bounces off the water, creating ripples like stripes across the lake's dark surface.
Fizzy takes a seat next to her, staring out at the water as well. Sat there together, Stella allows her mind to go numb.
If only for a brief moment, nothing else but Fizzy and her matters. Not the investigation into her mother's firm. Not Faye barely holding the fort together with nothing but worn duct tape and a reassuring smile back home. Not the demons still haunting her in the middle of the night—whatever shape they decide to take. Not her ever-growing worries of what's in store for her once this summer is over, once she's supposed to go back to normal somewhere new.
Fizzy doesn't allow her state of numbness for long, soon nudging Stella's hand, looking up at her with eager eyes. Glancing down at her palm, Stella's smile widens as she finds herself holding onto Fizzy's ragged tennis ball.
"You brought this along all the way?" She asks, dropping a kiss to the top of Fizzy's head, smoothing her free palm over her fur. She curls her fingers around the ball, meeting the dog's kind hazel eyes. "You ready?"
In an instant Fizzy has leapt to her feet, quite literally jumping backwards into the air.
"Don't be too excited," Stella warns, a hint of amusement to her tone as she thinks back to her previous—poor—attempts of throwing the ball before launching it as far as she can into the lake.
Fizzy dives after it in a heartbeat, head held high above the surface as she swims at an enviable speed.
Returning to dry land, she drops the ball by her feet, splattering Stella's linen shorts as she happily shakes the water out of her fur.
"Thanks," Stella laughs. "Really."
She grabs the ball again, cheeks rounding as she shoots Fizzy a smile. "Again?"
The dog lets out a lighthearted bark, already leaping toward the water. Another laugh tickles Stella's lips through a short exhale.
"Well okay then. Fetch!"
. . .
hi my friends!
I loved writing this chapter (even though there were moments before everything came together that I absolutely loathed writing it, but in general it's a favorite <3)
going to keep this short because I'm supposed to get up really early tomorrow morning to get on a plane, which feels so weird to say after the past year, and visit one of my very best friends who I haven't seen in person since january 2020 !!! didn't want to leave you guys empty-handed before I left though, and I hope you liked this one <3
as always, if you want to keep up with me make sure to follow me here on wattpad! i'm also (occasionally) on other socials such as twitter (@/cmiladunne on there!) and instagram (@/linnwrites)!
I hope you're all well. much love, always
yours,
linn