Little Girl Blue - 𝐖𝐋𝐖

𝐈. Ludus- Four

Jane said she'd be back soon. I think she had said something about going for a walk or filling the tank up. I was too tired to remember and was sleep within minutes upon our arrival.

Where she had gone off to no longer matter as she walked through the door, two something in the morning, drunk.

It only woke me because she stumbled around the room until she fell on the bed, "Oh god Florence! I didn't mean to wake you!"  Of course this was all slurred and in between giggles.

She rolled over, having no choice with the way she was laying and the size of the bed. It took her a few tries because her limbs were heavy and she kept mumbling how the room was spinning. Jane was much more drunk than she had been last night. It was unnerving to witness someone like that, incapable of simple things because of how over the edge they were, especially Jane. For a moment, I thought it'd just be better if I take the floor for the night while she kept the bed.

When she did get ahold of herself, her body ended up pressing on mine with her hands placed flat on my shoulders. I held my breath after catching a whiff of the alcohol on hers, growing warm in between my legs, on my cheeks. Everywhere.

She giggled and rested her head on my chest for awhile. I wondered if she felt my heat, if she had her own warmth radiating through her or if the liquor was the only thing. I thought about how her weight felt on top of mine, her hair brushing my neck. I had never been so close to anyone like this before.

My hands rose. I was stoic with my movements and scared. Jane's breathing had steadied and her body felt light. Had she fallen asleep? In the moment I told myself it didn't matter and brought my hands to the small of her back.

It was like that for awhile. Jane on top of me, wearing out her insobriety with short breaths while I held her for my own good.

At some point I started to cry. It just happened. My eyes didn't get watery, I didn't blink a million times to hold it back. Tears just fell. And fell and fell until I was sobbing.

All along she hadn't been sleeping, just listening. And when I started to gasp for air, Jane had rushed to get up, her body sobering and rising as she straddled my waist. She wiped furiously at my cheeks, whispering "It's alright," and, "You're ok."

___

Eventually I did stop, but it had been an hour of cursing and crying before I got ahold of myself. Jane was still clumsily moving but remained wiping at my tears, never missing one if it fell.

I was glad she hadn't tried to leave and go to her room, I didn't want to be alone. She did however, remove her body from mine and in the process I grew cold and still again. She kept close, just in case I did wake up in another fit of tears and tight breathing. After awhile I thanked her, then turned on my side to go to sleep.

By morning everything was as expected. Jane and I woke up next to each other (she didn't seem to mind she was in bed with me) though she ran off quickly to the bathroom where I accompanied her, holding her hair back while she emptied herself into the toilet bowl. Even then I didn't say a word. I just wiped her mouth when needed and handed her a glass of water whenever she lazily waved her hand in the air.

I was unfortunately aware that I had lost control last night and it was something I hadn't wanted to discuss. Jane asked once, after she had brushed her teeth and taken a few pills for her headache, and when I didn't respond she refrained from asking again.

Noon was the first time we had eaten that day. After nursing her headache and cleaning up the leaving room, she retired upstairs and remained there for the rest of the morning. I pulled out that book I always kept in my backpack along with the wallet. I recounted the money.

This occupied me for a few hours. I started in the bed curled on my side, then I crouched down on the floor and lay with a pillow beneath my elbows to prevent them from getting sore. And when Jane found me, I had manage to take up a seat by the window. But by then the book had captured less of my intention and instead I watched the grass sway and dance for awhile.

We had sandwiches for lunch. When Jane came down she said that's what she had a taste for, and when she waltz into the kitchen, (I began to notice Jane didn't walk places. Her legs were too long and she too graceful to simply just walk. She floated from room to room, making everything apart of her and not her apart of everything) and asked me to help her. It was more of a demand, really.

"Hand me the mustard, please."

I retrieved the condiment and placed it in her hands. I was careful to not let our fingers touch.

She placed out four pieces of bread and began piling condiments and sliced vegetables on top. "Ham?"

I shook my head, "I don't eat pork."

"That's right..." She brushed past me and searched the refrigerator. Once she found what she needed she turned back to me, "Turkey?"

I felt my words would betray me if I spoke so I just nodded.

We finished soon after. She sliced the sandwiches into triangles and took our plates to the chairs by the window. It was formal and rigid, yet Jane didn't seem to be bothered by any of it. She leaned back in the chair as if it were a hammock, completely relaxed with her chest pointed upwards. She looked a lot better now than she did a couple of hours ago, even then her only downfall had been the uncombed hair and vomiting. She still had a glow to her skin, a light in her eyes.

"You're quiet."

I scoffed, "I thought we established I always am."

Her eyebrow lifted, "No need to be a smartass, Florence."

I snapped my head to look at her. Her lips had a small smirk on them and that dimple showed. I was surprised at her choice of words, though Jane really didn't seem to care for boundaries and formalities. She wasn't at all alarmed that we had shared a bed last night or that we had gone out in public or that I had seen her drunk—twice.

"How are you feeling?" She continued. I wasn't sure what she was referring to. Either way my answer was going to be the same:

"Sick." Not with a fever or an ache in my body but I certainly didn't feel well. I thought I could throw up or sleep for days. I was a bit nauseous, too.

Jane leaned forward and placed the back of her hand against my forehead. "You don't feel unwell."

I coughed playfully.

"Really Florence." She laughed, "Eat your food."

I settled and took a bite. "And you?" I spoke, "Feeling any better?"

"Yes." She was far too casual for my liking about the topic. "I appreciate your help."

I took a few more bites despite me not being able to stomach much. Once she had finished her plate and noticed I still had another half, she got up and took mine as well. "I'll save it for later." When she walked away she gave a light squeeze to my shoulder.

After that Jane left again and it was night when she got back, not drunk this time, but something about her had changed. She came in the house and didn't acknowledge me at all. She walked past the chairs and went straight for the kitchen. She looked for something and when she couldn't find it she got annoyed, slamming cabinets causing dishes and silverware to clash into each other. It was loud and outrageous, then, suddenly, she walked back into the living room as if remembering I existed again. "Good night." Was all she said, and she turned like there was an invisible man holding a weapon to her and pounced up the stairs.

The next morning she didn't come down from her room.