Chim- In aeternum

Chapter 9

The hospital still smells of disinfectant, Leigh's still enjoying having her around despite the painful physical therapy, Nic and Sarah are still making trips back and forth, and Nadine is still calling every few days. There are minor differences though, minuscule things Kimberley feels, like the way her heart quickens when Cheryl's near or the way her eyes either avoid contact with the Geordie's or linger too long on her lovely features.

She's taken to lying on Leigh's bed in the middle of the night when she can't sleep, looking up at the glow in the dark painted stars, recalling what she can remember of the six years she'd had with the girls, with Cheryl. They'd been the best years of her life, the hardest, the most fulfilling, and Cheryl's presence seemed to have helped her get through them, brightening the dark days and enriching the colourful ones. She'd been right to claim that they were the heart of the group. Neither of them had functioned without the other, Kimberley knowing without a doubt that she'd been on autopilot in Australia, suffering in silence while Cheryl had openly broken apart.

Maybe if she'd done the same, she would've gotten back here quicker. She might've saved Justin, could've prevented Cheryl from trying to end her life. One of them had made it through while the other had simply disintegrated, and Kimberley finds herself sickened by the thought that she's glad it's Justin who's gone rather than Cheryl. It sends a shiver down her back, the temperature in Leigh's room suddenly so cold that she's violently shaking, her cheeks freezing from the tears pouring over them.

The next feeling she registers is the feeling of warmth, the daylight creeping in under the curtains when she opens her eyes. There's a red blanket wrapped around her, the soft wool tickling her skin, the faint scent of Cheryl in the fabric. Kimberley brings it to her nose and breathes in deeply, knowing she's already late to the hospital but not wanting to move. This was like holding the Geordie in her arms, something she'd been dreaming about since her and Adam had talked, and something she hadn't actually done since she'd first arrived at the hospital.

There's noises in the kitchen as she makes her way down the stairs, curious to know why the younger woman's up and finding the answer with the wonderful aroma of breakfast greeting her at the doorway. It's a reminder to her that she hasn't eaten properly since her mother's roast dinner on Saturday night, Kimberley steadfastly avoiding that photo that had now found it's way to the fridge. The drunk and giddy versions of her and Cheryl were not what she wanted to see of a morning. She'd been having a hard enough time getting up in general with the way she was sleeping, or rather, not sleeping. She'd been lucky to get some rest during the night, but it had only come after she'd exhausted herself with crying, the weariness from the week still making her sluggish.

“Pancakes are ready.”

She's brought out of her thoughts by the statement, catching the curious look Cheryl's giving her, the same one she's been aware of since she got back. She knows she's been acting strangely, excusing herself from rooms and being quiet in conversations, a clear difference from the soft undertones of the friendship they'd both been slowly rebuilding. She'd forced herself backwards for fear she was going to overstep a mark Cheryl was drawing, do something that reversed all the work she'd done.

There was Leigh to consider too. She'd promised the girl she'd be around, and Kimberley was unprepared to push Cheryl too far with the knowledge that the Geordie could simply change her mind about allowing her to be the little girl's friend. She'd spent eight months quietly tolerating their new found friendship, Leigh's accident shaking off Cheryl's rigidity on the subject. Kimberley didn't want to see it back.

“Babe?”

She was going to take a step backwards for the sake of the three of them.

“I'll just grab something in the cafeteria,” Kimberley laughs, “When did I turn into half-hour Harding, hey?”

She's turned and rushed out before she can hear a reply.

-----

She's telling Leigh about the time she got to perform in Les Miserables when it strikes her suddenly that Cheryl had called her 'babe'. It's too sweet, too affectionate, too much for her to deal with, and she rings Sarah and begs her to come out drinking, a request the blonde worriedly accepts.

She's throwing up twelve hours later in some VIP bathroom cubicle, Sarah holding her hair and rubbing her back, making a half-hearted joke about how they'd swapped places. Kimberley laughs hysterically at it, not even realising she's sobbing until her friend's carefully wiping underneath her eyes with toilet paper. The tears keep flowing as she tells Sarah everything, the complete story from start to finish, the blonde surprisingly unperturbed and optimistic about the situation.

“What are you drowning your sorrows for? Go and talk to her...hell, go and kiss her like there's no tomorrow. It works.”

Kimberley raises an eyebrow.

“Huge row with Tommy...planted one on him the next morning, right before I proposed.”

“You proposed?”

“Yep,” Sarah says proudly, slapping Kimberley's arm, “But no changing the subject.”

She lets Sarah drive her back to Cheryl's. Her attention stays on the baby mirror clipped to the sun visor in front of her, thinking about those kids she knows she would've had with Justin. Marriage and kids had been a certainty once, when her friendship with Cheryl had simply been that, when the line was defined and easy to see.

There was no longer a line to measure her emotions and actions by. She missed the assurance that she could handle herself appropriately in the Geordie's presence, be the caring friend she'd been ten years ago. Her mind wanted this, first and foremost, but her heart was demanding something more, something deeper than their friendship had been in the six years they'd spent together.

Her heart wanted what she did not deserve to have. She'd run away from what it had told her the night she'd made love to Cheryl, that maybe she'd always been in love with her best friend, or that there was at least a chance for them to happen. The Geordie's absence in the morning had been the catalyst for her to leave, but maybe her heart had already decided that it couldn't take pretending as if nothing had happened, like she knew the two of them would've chosen to do.

“Kimba,” Sarah says, startling her, “We're here.”

Kimberley looks out the window at the darkened house, a solitary light on in Leigh's room. She'd been well aware of Sarah talking to Cheryl on the phone earlier that night, hearing quiet promises being made to the Geordie to take care of her, make sure she didn't drive home. She knows Cheryl would've sat up all night waiting for her to get in so she could demand an explanation, the thought shooting straight to her temple, a sharp pain signalling the beginning of a post-drinking headache she always got. A potential yelling match was not something she was looking forward to.

“I don't wanna rush you, but I've got a long drive--”

“Oh right...sorry,” Kimberley says, unbuckling her seatbelt, “Thanks for looking after me.”

“Pff...I owed you one.”

“Just one?” She asks, smiling at her friend.

Sarah chuckles. “Okay...maybe more than one. Don't make a habit out of this though.”

“I won't.”

“Good...now give us a hug and get out of my car. I wanna go home to see my babies.”

Kimberley pulls Sarah to her, holding on for a long moment. “Barnard Castle's very own June Cleaver.”

Sarah pulls back. “Who?”

Kimberley laughs, lifting a hand to rustle the blonde's hair. “Some things never change.”