The sun followed me around today. In the kitchen, standing over the press to make Jane's coffee, while waiting by the toaster, it burned my back. I had been dodging it all day, another June afternoon passing without a cloud in the sky.
As promised, Jane slept in. Halfway up the stairs I could hear her soft snores, the slightest ruffle of the comforter as I reached the small landing. I had expected, after morning came and went, she'd be up. But now it was nearly four in the afternoon and she still hadn't come down.
I shook my head, setting the coffee and slices of toast on a nearby table. Walking over to the window, I pulled the smooth fabric of the curtain back. Immediately she sat up, hissing. "I hate to disturb the elderly but you've been in bed all day and I think you could go for some fresh air, a nice meal, and..." I stopped at her bedside, scrunching my nose, "a sponge bath."
She launched a pillow at me and huffed. The nightgown she had worn twisting and tying around her stomach. "Fuck! Did the AC go out again?"
I nodded. My eyes fixed on the pale pink of her breast that threatened to expose. "Yep. I'll bring you up a fan." I quickly turned to the steps when she called out.
"You don't have to leave." She patted the spot next to her.
I walked over, hesitantly settling against the headboard. "Are you finally deciding to be nice to me?"
Jane fell back, wiping her head then reaching for the small mug. "I just wanted the company but I'm thinking that might've been a mistake now." She took a sip, groaning, "but you do make a good cup of coffee so I'll let you stay."
I giggled, pulling myself higher on the pillows as she nurtured her mug.
"Your sleeping trick worked. I slept through the rest of the night." I said proudly.
"Oh, yeah? You were cuddled to me like a koala I would've hoped it was some good sleep you were getting." She looked over, the top of her lip curling.
My cheeks hardened, "I was unconscious."
"You were adorable. I had to wedge a pillow between your arms to escape."
"You shouldn't have, I was comfortable."
"Yeah, well, the elderly need real beds to sleep in." She crumpled, taking a bite of her toast. "I said take care of breakfast and you brought me bread."
I shrugged, eyeing the almost burnt piece of toast slobbered in jam. "It would've been something different if you were awake. Now you get this."
She reluctantly took another bite. "You're cooking dinner then."
Grinning, "Deal."
The rest of her cup was finished in the quiet and solace of her bed. Our legs touched, bodies close together even if it were for the heat.
"You know, I had the weirdest dream last night." She spoke.
"What about?" I turned to look at her.
"I-I don't know. It's all blurry now. But there was this little girl, and she had the bluest eyes I've ever seen."
"You've never seen her before?"
"No. And she looked like this doll." She rubbed her head, the confusion seen in her scrunched up nose and tight lips. She pondered for awhile, continuing the story, "...after that it just got weird. An angel with a blacked-out face appeared and took me away in a carriage."
I shifted, somehow that brought me closer though she did nothing to change it. "Seems scary."
She leaned into me, her head just shy of lying on my shoulder. "I thought so, but then you appeared and everything felt alright again."
Felling loose strings of hair graze my skin, I swallowed, "then it ended?"
"Or I woke up, either way that was the last of it." She shook her head, seemingly snapping back out of another daze. "You haunt me in real life and now you're taking over my dreams. Good one, Florence." She sat up, an unamused laugh coming from her lips.
I fought back the urge to ask questions. If there were any boundaries left between us I wanted it to be the one where we don't overstep. Though I desperately wanted to, finding it tempting to get close. I decided to play along, smirking, "No one told you to take in strays."
"That's true. They often bring fleas." She got up to go to the bathroom, rummaging through the medicine cabinet until she found her toothbrush. As she went to close the mirror, an orange pill bottle fell from the shelf, bouncing around and making a large racket until eventually the cap fell off and the sound of scattering medication sprinkled the floor. "Damnit!" She scrambled to the tile, trying to gather what she could.
I watched how panicked she became when there was less than she hoped for, a foul frown on her face when she held up the empty bottle. I bent down to pick up what was left of the pink pellets. Near my feet, was the small bottle. A prescription for Prozac and Buspirone prescribed to a Jane Raquel Donovan.
She snatched it away, rising to her feet. She couldn't hide this one.
"Jane—"
"No."
I didn't try to argue back. If I had been searching for something, this would be it. She was on antidepressants and anxiety medication. If not an excuse than certainly a reason.
"Can you please go?" She asked so sweetly, I had to look to see if it were her who said it. She seemed so fragile then. A woman of such esteem never felling so ugly and ashamed. She was distraught she lost something that held her together. It made it worse I saw.
Again, never being too wise with my words (or my actions), I did the opposite. "I'm not letting you push me away."
"I'd rather not argue with you right now. Just leave." Her hands held either side of the sink, her only reason for not crumbling to the ground.
I crossed my arms. "No."
"Florence I don't want you to see this." Her voice cracked.
"I don't care."
"Why must you be so stubborn?"
I laughed. "Me?"
She sniffled, pulling back and resting against the counter, "It wouldn't be fair to you."
"And is it fair to you that you feel like you have to hide this part of yourself?" I felt like the world's biggest hypocrite.
Swiping at her eye, "It doesn't matter."
"It does, Jane." I grabbed the pill bottle, counting the pebbles. "You have five of the pink ones and three of the white ones. How long could that last you?"
She exhaled, looking away. "About four days."
"That's not bad. Then what? You call your doctor again?" She nodded slowly. "See, problem solved."
"It's not that simple, Florence."
"Why not? A few are lost but there's some to last you until the end of the week." I was doing my best to consult her though I was making myself terribly sick while doing so. I was a liar, and it was flowing off the tongue so naturally. My father would be ashamed. Lecturing me about Jahannam and how I was destined to go there if I continued on this path. In this moment they were the loudest thoughts I had, his words were forever ingrained in me
Jane stood silent and still, her eyes looking moments away from pouring over. It all made sense now; the inconsistent moods, the influence on her dreams, the other random gestures that were so casually displayed. She all had no control over.
I broke for Jane. I broke for me. How did we get in this? "It'll be alright Jane. I'm here."
"You're here." She repeated. Absentmindedly turning her back to began brushing her teeth.
I stood in the doorway watching her. Every now and then that green gaze would stare at itself in the mirror, something would come over her and in the same moment disappear. When she finished wiping her mouth I spoke again. "We should go for a walk."
"Too hot."
I rocked on my toes, suddenly anxious, "Yes but the gas station has slushees for a great price right now."
She cracked a small smile, my jaw finally being able to relax. "A blue raspberry slush would be good right now."
"See! Let's go. Get dressed. And wear something that actually covers your boobs this time."
Jane swatted at my hand, "I knew you were looking!"
I blushed, glad to see that dimple again before I fled down the stairs, stuffing my feet into my shoes and tying the ratty laces.
I waited for Jane. Taping my foot dramatically and puffing as she put on her sunglasses, still tugging on her clothes. "You're going to learn one day to stop rolling your eyes at me." She eyed me, untucking her ponytail from her shirt.
Excited she was back in a playful mood, I rolled them again. "Be punctual and we wouldn't have this problem."
She mocked me with her hand and opened the door, "You're lucky it actually feels better out here than it does in the house." She proceeded to lock the door as I started down the porch. A wind chime hanging from the columns, bedding us a song goodbye.
We started our walk. The house was so isolated there was no street. Instead, it was a long dirt path that led to the gravel driveway. It was awhile before we reached a neighborhood, or at least apartments stacked on top of each other that were stacked on other establishments.
I kicked rocks along the way, shielding my face from the exhausting heat the best I could using the back of my hand. "Maybe we should've drove." I felt a trickle of sweat slide down my back.
Jane let out a breath, her ponytail swinging as she hiked. "You practically insisted on walking."
"And haven't you ever made any mistakes before?" My legs were growing heavy the further we marched up the hill.
Finally Jane decided it'd be best we stop in the shade of a tree. She bent down, holding her knees. "I started taking them when I was thirteen." She was talking about the pills, breathless as well. "After my dad died I got these...attacks. The medication—it helps."
I inhaled, trying to steady my breathing. "You take them daily?"
"Not usually but recently, yes."
I thought for awhile, I couldn't help the feeling. "Is it because of me?"
It was her turn to say my name in that dreadful way she does. "No. It is not because of you."
"But I don't make it better." I stood against the tree, holding on to a low hanging branch.
She sighed, wiping her hands off on her shorts. "You don't make it worse. That's something."
"But it's not enough for you to keep feeling the way you do."
She thought for awhile. "Nothing can help that." She began to walk ahead, her pace increasing, "Let's keep going."
Eventually we arrived at the store, the only petroleum station on this side of the city. We were welcomed by the draft as the door closed behind us. That same man with the massive beard behind the counter and, giving me a slow nod in greeting.
Jane trotted down the aisle. "What flavor are you getting?"
"Cherry." She made a face, filling her cup with the blue ice until it overflowed. On our way out, the man gave the same slow nod, wishing us a good evening. We stopped again at the same tree, Jane's lips and tongued stained whenever she laughed, her back resting against the trunk.
That day I made another promise to myself. I would do whatever it takes to keep Jane smiling.