I had Hallie in a death grip of a hug, held against my body tightly as though I could shield her from her loss with my arms. It didn’t matter how physically close we were though, there was now a distance between us. The stain that had bloomed across my t-shirt like a sinister flower served as an unbreakable wall that separated us emotionally. It marked me, painting me with the jarringly real crimson fate that my hesitation had inflicted on Viola. I could feel nothing at that moment, no grief for Hallie, no hatred for myself, no remorse for Viola’s pain. I was just empty. I was left with nothing but the now-cold blood that covered me almost entirely. It was in my hair, under my nails, soaked into my skin. This should never have happened. It shouldn’t have been her… I was to blame and I deserved the punishment, but it was Viola and, subsequently, Hallie who truly had to suffer. Poor, tiny Hallie, who’d been plucked from a wholesome and happy childhood, only to be thrust into the burning pain of all-encompassing grief not once, but twice. And soon she’d find that when that fire burned out, she’d be left with the ashes of a cold, dead world that held nothing for her. All because of me.

I’d not wanted to let go of Viola, hoping that my sobs and prayers to deities that I’d had no previous connection with might just be enough to will her back into existence. She stayed as she was though, her head lolling back over the crook of my arm and her limbs hanging loosely. It felt as though the clocks had stopped, the seconds hanging around us in the air instead of ticking by. My beautiful, sweet sister. She’d always taken care of me, and this was how I had repaid her. As the sound of the blood pumping in my ears faded, Hallie’s moaning cries crept in, reminding me of her presence. I lowered Viola down to the floor as gently as I could before crawling over to Hallie and pulling her into the position that we were now in. We’d not moved from the corner she’d hidden herself in, even when we’d both finally stopped crying. I couldn’t bring myself to move us, the idea of doing anything other than just breathing and existing felt overwhelmingly impossible; so we stayed as we were, like a forgotten statue waiting for moss to embrace it.

Minutes passed, then hours. The light of day faded, the classroom growing darker ever moment.
“Auntie Maz?” Hallie asked, looking up at me. I made no response, still locked into my daze.
She tried again, “Auntie Maz? I want to go.”
My eyes flickered to her as her voice cut through the fog. She’d broken the spell of silence that had been cast upon us, and now I had to join her in acknowledging the real world.
“I don’t want to look at…” she trailed off, not wanting to say the words. I nodded, helping her to her feet before clambering to my own. I looked over at Viola, motionless in the deep red, chilling lake that surrounded her. I couldn’t fathom how life was supposed to work without her, I’d never known it. She was 4 when I was born, and we’d almost never been apart since. We’d grown up together. Though Viola had always led the way through life with her bossy nature, she’d never left me behind, not once. In fact, she’d regularly picked me up and carried me just to keep us together. How had it come to be that I was the one who was leaving her after all these years? I ushered Hallie out of the room, with one last look to my sister. I made a promise to her in my mind that I would come back for her as soon as I could, but for now Hallie took priority.

I threw myself into thoroughly re-checking every room, before finally settling us down in an empty classroom. I’d managed to scavenge some gym mats for us to sleep on, though I felt as though I would never sleep again; there was far too much racing through my mind. Hallie laid herself down on one of the mats and closed her eyes. She began to sob quietly as I laid down next to her and put an arm around her. I held her tight, wishing that I could turn back the clock and do everything differently. In the last 48 hours, everything had changed. I didn’t know how to navigate life anymore, Viola had always steered the ship, but now we were trying to fend for ourselves in a stormy sea.
“Will you sing to me?” Hallie’s little voice filled the silence as she snuffled.
“Of course I will,” I replied, my voice cracking with emotion. I wasn’t sure I could manage it, but I’d try. “What would you like me to sing?”
“Can you do mommy’s favourite?” she whispered, hugging the arm I’d wrapped around her waist. My eyes welled up as I thought about how I would never hear Viola sing again. She’d had a beautiful voice, and there was nothing that she’d liked better than putting on a Beach Boys album and singing along. If she’d have sung “Wouldn’t It Be Nice?” just 3 days ago, it would have driven me mad. I’d have been moaning, asking her if she could sing anything else for once because I was sick of . Now though, I’d give anything to hear it. I’d never be able to do her justice, but I pulled Hallie in close as I shakily sang the first few words. She didn’t seem to mind that I wobbled and hit all the wrong notes so I carried on softly singing until she’d cried herself to sleep. As I stroked her cheek softly, I wondered how long I’d have until she realised that this was all my fault.

Jimmy and I had slowed to a comfortable pace as I recounted memories of Viola. It had been an awkward start. There was only one place my mind would go to when I thought about her, and it was a place I didn’t really feel like sharing with anyone.
“Viola was my world. She was everything to me. But I don’t know how to talk about her without it killing me,” I admitted, tucking my wet curls behind my ear.
Jimmy gave my hand a reassuring squeeze, “So start with the easy stuff.”
“There’s easy stuff?” I half-joked with a sigh.
“Tell me her favourite ice cream flavour,” he suggested.
“What?” I asked, stopping abruptly to stare at him.
“Ice cream,” he repeated, looking over at me with a serious face.
“Uh,” I was taken aback by the seemingly random ask, but of course I knew the answer. “Ben & Jerry’s Birthday Cake.”
“Oh yeah, that’s a good one,” he remarked, with an enthusiastic nod.
“Yeah, she always had a tub in the freezer ready for emergencies,” I smiled, weakly. The memory was bittersweet. Before I could dwell on it though, Jimmy moved on.
“Favourite film?” he quizzed.
“Oh, that’s easy – The Wrong Trousers. I swear, it would be too soon if I never saw it again,” I groaned, with a laugh.
Jimmy frowned in confusion, “What the fuck is ‘The Wrong Trousers’?”
“You know, Wallace and Gromit?” I prompted, trying to jog his memory.
“Oh, you mean that dog and guy, right?” he asked, scratching his head.
I drew my breath in sharply and laughed, “She would have murdered you if she heard you say that.”
“Yikes,” he laughed, casually entwining his fingers with my own. For some reason it made me nervous. My stomach flip-flopped, but I resisted the urge to pull away. He moved on, “Favourite colour?”
“Buttercup yellow,” I shot back, beginning to ease into his game.
“Tea or coffee?” he volleyed.
“Ha! Coffee for sure,” I answered.
“Favourite childhood memory with her?”
I giggled as it came to me, “We were like 4 and 9 and we spent an afternoon trapping bees in glass bottles, which was only mildly entertaining in itself. The real fun came though when our mom had to let a load of pissed off bees out of the bottles. She got stung to fuck.”
“I bet,” he snorted with laughter. “Tell me another one.”
I hesitated, “I see what you’re doing, you know. You’re not subtle.”
He feigned innocence, “I’m not doing anything!”
“You’re trying to get inside,” I accused, with a small laugh.
“That’s a bit forward, Marina,” he raised an eyebrow as he smiled mischievously. “Let me buy you dinner first.”
I pulled my hand from his grasp so I could shove him playfully. He stumbled over his own feet, just about managing to stay upright.
“That’s it, you’re going back in the river,” he threatened, ready to leap at me.
“Don’t you dare!” I challenged, bending over awkwardly with my arms stretched out towards him to try and keep him at bay. He cackled wildly at my defence.
“You look like a fucking crab,” he gasped between peals of laughter, as he reached out to grab at me.
“Get away, you ass,” I giggled, trying to dodge his fingers. He finally relented and we fell back into an easy amble up the river bank, our laughter fading slowly.

“So, you were going to tell me something else about Viola,” he encouraged, once we’d managed to straighten ourselves out.
“Was I?” I countered, losing my confidence with the whole thing. He smiled warmly at me.
“Doesn’t it feel nice to talk about her?” he prodded, “To remember the happy bits?”
“It’s hard to remember the happy bits,” I replied, glumly, causing his face to fall. Jesus, watching his smile disappear was like watching a kid find out that Santa doesn’t exist.
“It was bad, huh?” he asked, his face sombre. I couldn’t look at him. I couldn’t even answer him. This conversation was too soon. It wasn’t an ice cream flavour or a favourite film. This was the bee trapped in the bottle, ready to sting the moment I let it out, and I wasn’t ready to open the bottle yet.
“We don’t have to talk about it,” he replied, gently touching my arm. This time, I flinched away, effectively pulling the shutters down on my emotions.
“It was my fault,” I confessed, numbly, before setting off at a quicker pace. “Can we get back to the van? I want my fucking clothes.”
He watched me stride off for a few seconds before jumping into action to follow me. He fell into step beside me once again, thankfully not pressing the subject any further. After walking briskly for a few minutes, he broke the silence.
“You know, I always preferred Cookie Dough,” he remarked with a shrug.
“What?” I questioned exasperatedly, looking over at him.
“Ice cream,” he elaborated, “my favourite is Cookie Dough.”
“Well, thanks for that valuable information,” I replied, rolling my eyes.
“It is valuable information,” Jimmy insisted, ignoring my irritation. “It might just be the key to my heart. And to my Lucky Charms.”
“Unless we find the van, you won’t have any Lucky Charms,” I reminded him.
“Well, you’re never getting any with that attitude,” he quipped, smiling slyly at me.
I could feel the corner of my lips curling into a smile, betraying me.
“Maybe I don’t want any,” I retorted, “have you thought about that?”
“If the rate you were shovelling them in at this morning is anything to go by, then I think you do,” he smirked.
“Shovelling?” I repeated, with a scoff.
“Yes, shovelling,” he reiterated with emphasis. “I could go with stuffing, if you like? Or how about cramming?”
I caved in and let out a burst of laughter, “You’re so smooth with the ladies, a real catch, you know that?”
“I like to think I’m pretty suave,” he replied casually, his lisp tripping over the word cutely.
I giggled and we fell into silence again. This time it was a content quietness, like a comfortable bubble had surrounded us, shielding me from my self-loathing just long enough to make me to forget about it. After a few moments had passed, I suddenly felt my lips moving before I’d even realised I was going to say anything.
“I like Cookie Dough too,” I blurted. Jimmy looked up, caught off guard by my sudden outburst. He recovered quickly though, giving me a dazzling smile.

“A woman after my own heart.”

Notes

It's a bit fluffy today, but who doesn't love fluff every now and then?