All Again

A (Few) Questions

The feeling gets worse with time, like when you drop watercolor onto a wet page. It spreads.

Jamie doesn't know how long it's been or how far she's been walking, but that doesn't really matter to her right now. In her mind, she's walking back to her hostel, through London; but with fog as thick as this clouding her brain, she could be half way to Cambridge by now. All she knows is she's putting one foot in front of the other, each step accompanied by a dull ache in her temples.

She's been staring at the sidewalk with her eyebrows furrowed for so long, it would almost be painful to relax her facial muscles. Eyes down, she hasn't realized the sun has started to rise. With each sloshy step she takes, it's pure adrenaline and fear that keeps her from collapsing. Her eyes burn from crying and not sleeping for nearly 48 hours. But she just keeps going.

Her jacket is unzipped, hanging freely from her shoulders, and the flowers she bought for Dani are grasped tightly in her right hand.

All around her are early morning city noises—people greeting each other, yelling, dogs barking, birds chirping, cars zooming by, honking. But Jamie is only dimly aware of that. Only aware of it enough to keep herself from getting hit by a car or running into someone. Jamie's mind is far elsewhere. Specifically, it's with Dani.

Wherever she may be.

When Jamie saw that Dani was no longer at the bottom of Bly lake, her immediate response was panic. And then when she finally understood that Dani wasn't where she was supposed to be, that panic really kicked in so hard, it was like her stomach dropped out. If she isn't at Bly, then where the hell is she and how is Jamie supposed to find her? And the longer she walked, the worse she thought. If Dani hasn't contacted her yet, then is she okay? Is she hurt? What happened to her?

More tears sting Jamie's already swollen eyes and she doesn't even bother to wipe them away. She barely feels them as they streak down her cheeks—all she hears is her breathing and the scuffle of her feet, and all she feels is the flowers in her hand and the wet clothes on her back.

Why didn't Dani reach out to her? Or better yet, miraculously show up one day at Jamie's front door. Jamie can't even imagine the swell of joy and gratefulness she would've felt in that moment. It would've felt nothing like this.

And the more Jamie thinks about it—which has been non-stop since the moment she knew—it feels as if she should be happy Dani isn't in the lake anymore. Because that should mean something happened to make it so Dani could flee the grounds of Bly on her own accord. A possibility that she is somewhat herself again and back to everyday life. Right? She should be hopeful.

But Jamie can't shake the huge stack of dread that is layered up upon her back. It's crushing her ribs into the softened soil, like labeling stakes in her garden, filling her lungs with dirt. So many things are up in the air; there is no way to know basically anything that happened, and that fact is only shoving Jamie farther into the earth. It's as if she knows nothing at all.

Like how long has Dani not been there? It's been four years since Jamie first came, so therefore, it couldn't have been that long. Where did she go? Is she okay? Is she still Dani Clayton inside or she is the lady of the lake? Unknown, unknown, unknown. It's like she's just waiting for it all to drop on her head and finally bury her.

Dani could truly be anywhere and the possibility that Jamie might not ever be able to find her is immobilizing. It's like a swarm of flies—incessant buzzing of fears and worries, the possibility of always being one wrong turn away from her. No way can Jamie scour the entire earth, the amounting variables that are uncontrollable are enough to buckle Jamie at the knees permanently.