Work Text:
Anne felt safe at work.
Humid, noisy, smelled like rotten fish most of the time. The dim lights, the buzzing of flies, the murmur of children and adults screaming and laughing. The frogs.
Oh, the frogs.
“And this bad boy right here–whoa, don’t touch that, little dude.” She made sure the stupid little brat didn’t shove his entire hand in the frog bin that housed the blue poison dart frog. Anne had gloves on herself, and even then she always figured the frog would one day jump on her neck and end her. “This guy can kill you with a touch!”
“Whoooooa.” Said the stupid little brat, in awe at the little frog.
Every week her mother would ask her how she was doing. She called at night after work, and her mom never sounded tired, no matter how busy the restaurant might be. That kind of energy was not genetic.
Anne missed home, but she knew moving out had been the best choice. The questions were starting to pile up.
“Frogs are actually really smart, you know? They’re the smartest amphibians in the animal kingdom! They’re almost just like you and me in many ways. Like the Pixie frog over here? Super momma bear.”
The parents snickered. The children laughed. Anne laughed along. It was important to put on a show; these kids came in thinking they weren’t gonna have fun, after all. It was Anne’s job to make sure they did.
“And what’s that?” A girl asked, pointing at thit’s missing it’s missing it’s missing it’s missing it’s missinge little house inside one of the environments.
“Oh, that’s just a little hobby of mine. I made it myself! Look, the frogs love it!”
She pointed out how the two pink frogs perpetually hung out around the tiny Plantar mockup she had made over the course of the last few months. The frogs, quite frankly, did not seem to care. They were too busy being frogs.
Sometimes she just stared at it. It never stared back. It was just plywood and some light construction materials. The frogs probably liked it fine, they just enjoyed actual wood better.
Suit yourself, she always thought. I like the real Plantar house better too.
Work ended around five. Anne left around seven. She always felt like she had to clean up after the guests– it felt weird leaving it to someone else, even if it was literally their job. She blamed her mom.
At least it gave her time to fix the exhibits for Get Lost in Amphibia! jewel of her eyes, greatest end-of-term-assignment-turned-full-time-job she’s ever been a part of. She had been there for years.
Sure, a lot of amphibious creatures didn’t last that long. The olms were already old when she got there, and one of them was on its last long, tiny legs. The toads were actually going strong; no accidents, no jerk kid throwing salt or weird things at them through the tubes for a while now. And the frogs… well… she didn’t like to think about how this was actually Sprig III.
She didn’t like to think about a lot of things. She didnmissingmissingmissingmissingmissing’t like to think about anything in particular, in some nights.
Long Beach was nice, honestly. It wasn’t fancy , but that wasn’t exactly a bad thing. Cool nights, busy downtown, biscuitwiches; truly nothing that bad to complain about.
She enjoyed walking up to Queensway Bridge and watching the lights for some time. Queensway Bay was no Newtopia, but she still thought it was very pretty at night. The water made the air a bit uncomfortably cold, and she was always surprised by how there were always people on that shore at all times. It was nice. It was hers. This was a nice life. This was her life.
Her. Anne Boonchuy. The one and only.
The same Anne Boonchuy who was going to look at the water now.
…
Now.
…
Now.
…
Look, Anne. Look.
You know you have to. You always look. See what’s missing.
…
The reflection can’t harm you, silly. The reflection is you. You can’t harm yourself.
Anne looked at the reflection, and there it was.
It was just her. Brown hair in a ponytail. Pretty, albeit tired face. Moss-green uniform. Just like every other night.
It’s not like she ever expected to see something different.
Her apartment was nice. It wasn’t a kitnet, which her mom assured her meant she made it big as an adult. Two bedrooms (fine, one of them was an extremely small study that the landlord told her constituted a bedroom if someone ever decided to sleep there), a kitchen connected to a bathroom, and a small living room with a TV connected to the internet, right in front of an L-couch. The little coffee table in front of the television was honestly more comfortable than a lot of regular dining tables she’d eaten at. She could just sit on the floor or on the couch and watch cartoons while gorging on Pad Krapow Gai, all day*, every day.
Over time she’d sculpted the edges into smooth surfaces and lily pads, with a few mushrooms still in the process of being carved on the side. The intention was making some frog legs and harmless, cool spikes at some point. Anne had gotten really good at arts and crafts; actually crazy how much fun this was to her. A whole new passion that had developed in these past few years.
A lot of new hobbies had developed over these past few years, in fact. The apartment’s decor reflected that. Yes, obviously frog and frog-related paraphernalia were scattered everywhere in truly chaotic fashion, but… she had learned how to crochet. She had learned how to paint. She had even learned how to write, even though that one wasn’t exposed like a medal of honor.
Anne was tired. Something about the day had taken a lot out of her. For the past five years, her dad said she was getting to that age when her energy would be a daytime thing only, but she didn’t know if that was really what was going on. There was just… something in the back of her mind.
It was almost ten years since they’d come back.
She threw the hairband holding her messy auburns to the floor, immediately looking taller and more unkempt. The clothes came off almost as easily. Sometimes all you needed was a decently warm bath and nothing on your mind formissing.
The mirror stared at her.
missing.
On the right side of her body. Nothing.
missing.
Just more skin. No blemishes.
She hated that mirror. She hated having to look at it whenever she went to the bathroom.
She used to have a mole there.
missing.
She remembered it clearly. Sasha saw it once during practice; even said she had one similar. It wasn’t huge , but it was there. It had been there.
missing.
The Guardian hadn’t made this body with a mole. It probably just forgot.
Missing.
When it remade her from zero.
When she died.
“Ugh.” She muttered to herself, letting it go. The sound of water hitting ceramic and warmth filling the room calmed her mind. This kind of thought had infiltrated her routine way too easily as of late.
It was probably because she was so alone all the time. Yeah, she had friends in Long Beach, but sometimes work and free time just don’t line up. She should get together with some people; go to town, get some good food, and turn her brain off for a day. Maybe she should call Sasha and Marcy, it had been a while–
You’re not their friend.
Or maybe not. They’re so far away, anyway. At least an hour by car and a plane ride for Marcy. Couldn’t exactly just ask for people to stop what they’re doing to come see her when she’s down.
She laid down on the tub and tried washing her worries away. At least there was no headache this time.
“Hey phone, give me some music.” She said out loud, hoping the assistant would pick up. It did.
Some nice banjo music came over on the speakers. Anne closed her eyes and let the melody take her away.
It’s like Sasha told her once. Stress is just another thing you have to manage. When you’re in control, you can make your stress go away. But it’s not stress, is it?
It’s fear.
Anne opened her eyes, tired. The whole room was foggy, and the a-little-too-dim lightbulb made the hazy bathroom look old, somehow. Ancient.
Look, Anne.
Her mind was a blur. Her eyes searched for stimuli, but there was nothing there. Just Anne and her thoughts, and the haze of the warm bath.
I said look.
Anne almost screamed.
There it is.
She could see it. It was Anne, dying.
Sick. Spent. Chalky-white, clothes and skin and hair. Literally peeling away like a dry piece of paper being hit by too strong a wind. The only thing not dominated by the gross ashy texture was her eyes. Black little beads staring straight at her. Not angry, not sad. Just so, so tired.
She could almost hear her words.
Saving this world was the best decision I ever made.
A mockery of life.
Anne woke up in a frenzy, splashing water everywhere. She must have been way more tired than she thought. Falling asleep in a bathtub was such a stupid way to go.
The water was no longer warm. The lightbulb was giving her a headache. Suddenly the bathroom wasn’t so comfortable anymore.
“Ugh dude, I just want to relax.” She said to herself, slowly getting out of the tub. The good thing about a hot bath is that the steam messes up the mirrors.
Too bad you know what’s in them.
No TV tonight. Straight to bed.
The Aquarium of the Pacific used to be her home away from home. Whenever Anne was down she would have her parents bring her there, and by the time she could take the bus by herself, she would come over assuming she had some cash for the entrance fee.
She would come over a lot, actually. Anne never thought about how after she met Sasha, this became a staple of her weeks. Now she got paid to bring people in, and make them feel like An– she once did.
It came with the unfortunate reality that the magic was a bit lost, but she didn’t blame the job for it. She realized it right away when she first visited after the whole thing in Amphibia. Something wasn’t right.
Maybe it was the artificial environments, maybe it was nostalgia failing. Maybe she didn’t really have nostalgia for the place, and just grew out of it. Lots of things happened in that last month or two she spent fighting Andrias.
The alternative explanation inserted itself in her mind years ago, and never let go. Maybe she didn’t have any feelings associated with the place.
“Hey, did you know olms can live up to seventy years? It’s crazy! This fellow here is older than everyone in this group!” She excitedly pointed out one of the thin lizards coming in and out of her olms exhibit. The children were never terribly interested in them, so she had to pull out the big guns. “And I hear they can tell the future!”
A little ginger girl’s eyes sparkled at the mention. She went up to the front of the group to get a better look at the animals.
“Really?” She asked Anne, innocent. “Did one of them tell you something?”
Three stars burning bright.
“Welllll, I’m not really supposed to saaaay it, but–” Anne kneeled to be at eye level with the girl, reaching into her uniform’s pocket and grabbing a little frog sticker, which she then placed on the kid’s forehead. “She told me I was going to meet this amazing girl today, who was going to ask great questions and get a prize!”
The girl laughed. Her father, who was checking his phone, looked at her for the first time on the tour. He seemed pleased.
Come from beyond to expel the night.
“Alright, moving along everyone! Who here wants to see the toads?”
Some kids ran at the exhibition, others staggered along. This was a nice group. The exact kind of child that inspired Anne to become a herpetologist. Yes, obviously Amphibia had to do with it, but getting people interested in the subject was important too.
She remembered what you were made to remember being confused at the difference between all these amazing types of animals when she was a kid. If she had known most of this information by the time she arrived in Wartwood, things might have been different. Not as confusing, not as dangerous.
Should they fight or embrace the fall?
You’re what happened when she embraced the fall.
Anne was too distracted when she heard the shout.
One of the kids slipped and fell. She didn’t realize it when the event happened, she only heard the screaming.
Children have no filter. They just say it like it is, with no real separation between the worst time of their life and mild discomfort. This kind of screaming could mean lots of things. A scraped knee. A twisted elbow. A broken foot. Literally nothing.
Anne’s mind didn’t approach this rationally. It brought her back to fighting the Core.
She remembered the feeling of pushing against reality and reality pushing back. She remembered the screaming of children on the streets of Los Angeles trying their hardest to dodge debris and stick by their parents. She remembered cold steel pushing her so hard she went through brick and mortar, razing a part of town with the impact. The realization that were it not for Calamity, Anne would have splattered on the wall, painting the city red.
Her heart rate spiked. She felt her breathing become faster and harsher, and started picking up a faint flat tone in her ears, almost like she had been hit in the head. She was back. It was all back. She had to fight. She had to fight or she was going to die. She was going to die. She was going to die again.
You didn’t die, puppet. You’re not even alive.
You’re a fake doll some bumbling deity made so they can rest one day.
You never fought Andrias. You never beat the Core. Anne did. You’re not her. You’ve never been her. You’re missing things. You’re missing Anne. Missing. Missing. Missing. Missing Missing Missing Missing
The child was helped up by his guardian, who didn’t seem to think much of it aside from being embarrassed at the noise. They were still screaming.
Anne was going to hit something, cry, yell and throw up at the same time.
She couldn’t be here. This couldn’t happen. This was not going to happen. Fight. Fight. Fight. Flight.
“I have to go” she mumbled rapidly as she saw another worker approaching, dodging people as she ran into a bathroom. The employee looked at the situation confused, but immediately picked up the slack.
Anne didn’t see that last part. She was too busy going into the employee stall and evicting her breakfast out through her mouth.
Her heart was still running its own little marathon when she realized she could finally breathe again, but her stomach was dying. The acid taste in her throat distracted her from the buzz in her ears; the feeling of blood rushing through your head and making the world look black and white and too bright for comfort. She let herself collapse limply on the stall’s floor, dangling her head back and failing miserably not to cry. Charged with electricity but so tired. Out of control.
Anne would never do this.
She hated her thoughts. She hated her head. She hated everything.
Anne would see the bright side.
She was Anne, god damn it. Just because she was missing some parts didn’t mean anything. The Guardian wouldn’t have played a trick on her. She was Anne. She didn’t have to prove–
Anne knew how the prophecy ended.
That’s not…
…
It was something… with fate. It rhymed with the second to last line, or… it… Mother Olm didn’t remember, why should she? It’s not fair. There was so much going on at the time.
Anne would never forget. Anne would never miss this.
She’s Anne. She’s not missing anything. Things change. She moved on. She let it go.
Missing.
The mole doesn’t matter. The shoe being wrong doesn’t matter. The fact she’s so good at new things doesn’t matter. None of it matters. Shut up. Shut up.
Missing.
Anne held her head while a splitting headache made itself well-known. She had bad times when she was a kid, but never anything like this. Was this the rest of her life? Was this just how she was?
Was she missing something that important?
“Hey kiddo, how are you?” her mom’s voice came over from the phone.
“Hi Mom.”
She couldn't really tell her mom how she was doing. They had already exchanged a few strong words over the fact that Anne decided to leave the house. Her mom would try to help, and she couldn’t handle that right now.
Anne was home early. Her manager found her in the bathroom, sobbing with her uniform stained in sweat. Ashley was a nice dude. He let her go early since they had someone doing tours for the rest of the shift. She almost wanted to ask him if she could come in later and help clean up after the kids, but the pit in her stomach turned again.
The TV was on with a very low volume. A soap opera marathon turned into a mimicry contest without the sound. The acting distracted her.
“I’m good.” She lied. She kept snacking on sugar cookies on the sculpted table. She missed ant and bugs cookies. “Just wanted to check in, see how you guys were.”
“Oh well, we’re fine, we’re busy! Why don’t you visit more?”
Her mom kept going on about the latest days at the restaurant. They sounded like they always did. Not stagnant, but not going anywhere either.
Anne remembers days when she was comfortable in her mother’s house. She loved the feeling of walking into a kitchen and smelling the sting of peppers, the sweetness of cinnamon, the comforting, soothing smell of lemongrass. She liked interacting with the clients and trying her mom’s new recipes. Hearing Thai coming from the TV and getting visited by people who would stay around the whole day, laughing like they were part of the family.
The thought still comforted her, but it felt different. It made her feel anxious if she thought about it for too long, if she imagined herself there forever. Like she was regressing. This isn’t what she was meant to do, she decided. This isn’t where she’ll become an adult. The Aquarium was her calling.
“... and your father keeps not going to the doctor! I tell him over and over again, you need your medication, but he says he can make it with his stupid juices. Who drinks juice for a whole day?”
“Yeah, totally.”
“Anne? Are you listening to me?”
She blinked and tried focusing again. Her mind was still a mess.
“Yeah mom, sorry. I’m just kinda tired.”
“Is everything going okay in the Aquarium? You’re usually not home this early, right?”
She didn’t actually expect her mom to memorize her schedule. In retrospect, she should have figured.
“I… yeah, they sent me home early. Little treat, you know. I had a headache at work.”
“Ohhh kiddo, you have to come back home and let me take care of you. I know what’s good for those headaches and cramps, my homemade medicine–”
“No no, it’s not like that, it’s–”
“I tell you , all you need is some lemongrass and honey tea, some dried bananas and–”
She’s not listening to you.
Shut up, that’s not true. This works for her. It doesn’t mean she’s not–
She can tell.
“--and there’s no better medicine than a good night’s sleep, so you have to–”
She could always tell. She’s patronizing you. She wouldn’t do that to Anne.
Insane. She’s going insane. She would never think that about her mom if she wasn’t. Her mom never did anything bad to her, and she was trying to–
“--when you come by next week we’ll–”
Missing.
If everyone would just–
“--oh and I think there’s new neighbors around, you’re gonna love their son–”
Just shut–
Missing.
“I get it, Mom.”
She could hear the silence. The soap opera’s faint shrilling kept droning on in the background.
“Alright.” She heard her mom answer. “I guess it’s not good enough for you.”
“Mom, no, come on, that’s not what I meant.”
“Mâi na, mâi na, mâi na girl, none of that, you’re right. You’re not a little child living in my house anymore.”
“No no, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t–”
I’m sorry wouldn’t fix this.
“Just hope you remember your old folk when you’re around Los Angeles next time, we miss you.”
There’s nothing to fix. She ruined it. She ruined it so fast.
“Mom…”
“Your dad is calling, Anne. I’ll talk to you tomorrow, okay?”
“Y-yeah. Love you, mom. Say hi to dad for me.”
“Love you too.”
Anne almost threw the phone on the tv. She had a weight in her chest that made her feel like she was going to throw up again, but the panic never came. It was almost worse. This was perpetual. She could see something like that never going away.
Anne wouldn’t have said that.
The Mexican actors kept doing their low-volume mimicry of relationships. Someone hugged their kids in the show. The kid was too old to be the age it was supposed to be. Both were crying.
Anne started to cry too. She had to get out of that house. She had to go somewhere.
This was stupid. The city wasn’t that safe. The streets weren’t that inviting. It was really cold.
But Queensway gave her pause, and she needed pause right now.
The pretty lights reflected off the water like they were dancing. Every time a duck or a fish broke the surface, waves would make her a lightshow of pink, purple, green and blue. She couldn’t see a lot of stars, but the few that shined through the city lights reflected off the water like texture. A tapestry of the night sky.
Everything kept being the worst.
She skipped some rocks. Two skips. Anne wanted to go for a swim. She wanted to not be here; anywhere, really. Everything had gone wrong today. It had been her fault.
It’s always your fault.
Truth to be told, Anne didn’t remember coming to the shore. Sure, if she thought about it, she could probably recall putting a shirt on, getting out of the house, walking for thirty or so minutes. But it felt unreal. Like she was watching from somewhere else, far away.
A lot of her life post-Amphibia felt like that. She loved a lot of it. The new friends, the new experiences, college– college was awesome. But when it was all said and done, and she calmed down and looked at the horizon, she missed it.
She missed Amphibia so much.
Anne caught herself lost in thought about her adventures all the time, especially as the ten-year anniversary loomed over her. That one time she and Sprig ran from giant leeches from the pond across from the Plantar house. The incident where zombie spores took over everyone’s thoughts but Hop Pop’s. Wartwood’s elections, exploring Newtopia with Marcy, everything just felt so… perfect in her memory. Simple. Like the world made more sense.
She didn’t have to worry about anything other than her family and friends. She had the choice to wake up and do anything she wanted, as long as she could get to it. She had real friends– she had a brother and sister, for frog’s sake.
That giant lily pad treated her so well.
Of course you’d like it. You were born there.
Sometimes Anne thought about dropping everything and going somewhere else. Maybe Thailand. Anywhere tropical, humid, where she could actually live near nature; real nature, not just the American version. Somewhere where she had no history, no loved ones. No one to recognize her. No one she knew.
Wanting to start over and make different choices felt so bizarre to her, though. She actually got that choice, but she chose to believe the regular path was good. That it worked. So she came back. Got a job. Signed a 12-month lease.
So many people at work had no idea what they were doing, it bothered her so much. This was serious, it was her life’s work; she didn’t expect everyone to love it, but all the misunderstanding just reminded her of… high school. It was still all popularity contests and connections. She was extremely aware of how silly her exhibition looked to a lot of her peers, but it mattered to her.
What an incoherent ramble. She was barely forming her own thoughts. The haze never left her, ever since this morning. Anne hadn’t felt so spent since she used her Calamity powers on the regular.
She used to talk to herself more.
“Man, what happened?” She said out loud. The water didn’t reply. “This place used to rock.”
She skipped another stone over the water. Five skips. Woo.
“I dunno. Do you ever feel like you made a mistake?” She asked no one in particular. “I feel like I did sometimes.”
1am wasn’t completely empty, but she was definitely alone. The perfect place for this conversation, surely.
“I really thought I had it figured out. Yeah, I knew I was going to make mistakes. But I never thought I would get here by… doing the right thing.”
There is nothing right about what you’ve done.
“I thought it would solve itself, you know? I thought the problems would go away eventually. But they never did.”
Another stone. Three skips. A duck saw her. The duck approached.
It was a relatively large bird, if a bit pasty, a bit ashy. It didn’t look that ill, but it definitely wasn’t doing great.
Anne wasn’t a specialist, but she knew bread killed these guys. “Sorry dude, no pellets here.”
The duck didn’t move. It just kept staring at her.
“You feeling existential too, little guy?” She asked. No way she was going to pet a duck, though. Things are vicious. “It’s not great.”
She snickered as the bird didn’t really acknowledge any of the sounds she was making.
“But it’s fine, I mean… it has to be, right? Nobody knows where they’ll end up. Nobody thinks they have it figured out for real. It’s all a mystery until you get there. I’m sure I’ll get out of this slump.”
“Are you sure about that?” The duck said, with her voice.
Anne’s considered the sentence again.
“What?” She said, confused. The haze in her head got worse. The lights of the bridge filled too much of her vision. The bird and the water were the only things in front of her.
There was no more floor. There was only light. There was only the bird. There was only water.
The bird’s voice was hers. The bird’s voice was harsh. The bird’s voice was mine.
Stupid girl.
“I’m dreaming.” She whispered to herself as the world welled up and she lost her footing. “I’m dreaming. I-I’m having a nightmare. This isn’t happening.”
The duck disappeared. The lights dimmed. Wet darkness filled her surroundings. It drained all the life and warmth of her body. Every good memory, every nice private moment she ever had.
“It’s a nightmare, it’s a nightmare, it’s it’s it’s where are my clothes where am I where am I no no no no”
She was like a baby. Naked and cold and afraid and ignorant of anything she could do to make it better.
Anne saw Anne approaching, as white as the duck she’d seen at the pond. Ashy, chalky, sickly, terrible. The real Anne. The heroic Anne, sacrificing herself for the greater good and going out with a joke and a laugh. The Anne that went through all those memories. The Anne whose signature shoe fits in the left foot. Not her.
Anne stared at her impostor through beady, black eyes eyes that felt like they could evaporate into white leaves at any point. She existed in a state of being that Anne, that she , didn’t recognize. Some awful in-between meant for last words and niceties. Not meant for this. Not meant for her to see.
“Aren’t you missing something?”
It was her voice. It was Anne’s voice.
“No. No. No. No no nonono please–”
“Yes. You’re missing something.”
She wore clothes with the same texture as her skin. Anne lifted her shirt on the right side. There it was, the texture of a mole. One of the several imperfections that made Anne Anne. That separated her from the rest of the world. One of the things she didn’t inherit. The Guardian didn’t feel like it was important.
“It’s missing.”
“Please, please, no, I’m Anne, I swear I’m Anne, please don’t, please–”
“You don’t have to be missing this.”
And just like that, she was back in her kitchen.
She was standing by the counter, still soaking wet, still cold, still naked. Somehow she knew it was 1am. The TV was still on, with shrill mimicry making for otherworldly noises one-room apart.
The impostor had a knife in her hand.
“You know what you’re missing.”
Anne looked at her dead self and realized what was happening. The knife was heavy in her hand.
She never left her house. She went straight to bed. Did she?
She was going insane.
Only real people can go insane.
“You know what you have to do.”
She couldn’t tell if this was real. She couldn’t tell if she was having a nightmare. She couldn’t wake up. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breathe. She was drowning.
Anne was dead, right in front of her. Staring at her through leaky, black, beady eyes. Unblinking, unfeeling.
“Missing.”
She could end it. She could make herself right. She had the tools. She had the knowhow. College meant science classes. Science classes meant intro to biology. Lab. Dissection. Knowing where organs were. Knowing how deep to go.
Anne was great at arts and crafts. Making shapes. Cutting things just right.
“Missing.”
No one would know. She didn’t have to tell anyone. She didn’t have to show anyone. She had no one to show it to.
The knife was still in her hand.
“Missing.”
No one had to know.
“Missing.”
No one would know.
“Missing.”
No one was there to stop her. She shouldn’t. She shouldn’t. You should. You will.
Why should she be the only one missing something?
Anne had bags under her eyes.
“Okay, who here knows what a group of toads is called?” She called out, smiling to a group of children. “An army!”
Anne started mimicking a march while making croaking sounds. Some kids laughed. This was an old reliable. At least one little kid laughed every time.
“Toads and frogs are actually really different! You can always tell them apart because frogs have these dark patches beneath their eeeeyes!”
She pulled two frog-eye cutouts she always carried in her pockets and placed them in front of her face, making spooky noises and funny gestures. Good crowd, even if she wasn’t particularly into it.
“Alright, alright, moving on– we have a lot more than just toads! Like these little guys. Now let me tell you, these are picky tenants.”
She moved the group over to the frog habitat, and picked up Sprig III. He was small, adorable, and sometimes she considered taking him home with her.
“A frog’s environment is everything. They love humidity. This energetic fellow is a pink South American Tree Frog.”
The kids gasped and awed at the beautiful amphibian. She had done this dance so many times, but it was a favorite of hers. Even if it wasn’t the same one as she had arrived at the aquarium with, the Sprigs were special to her.
“What’s his name?” A boy asked.
“I named him Sprig! After a dear, dear friend of mine.” She looked at the small frog balancing itself in her finger. She smiled. It was barely 20 grams, and its eyes betrayed no emotions.
A part of her kept trying to tell her, this wasn’t Sprig. It would never be Sprig. But she was too tired to care about that.
This was a decent day. This was a good group. This was a cute frog. She could hold it together no problem.
“Okay class, everyone thank Anne the herpetologist.” The teacher said, feeling like moving on to another exhibit.
The children chanted byyyye frog lady in unison, moving on to see the sharks. She put Sprig III back into his tank.
She was used to the rhythm. Not a couple days ago it felt impossible to focus on anything; her head was just so loud. But waking up every day meant somewhat of a reset. A little effort and work went a long way.
She had been thinking about her place in the world for so long. Trying to figure out if she’s real or not. If every memory she holds on to is truly hers, or just someone else’s, who happened to look like her for a long time.
It can be the hardest thing to realize you can’t hold on to something forever, especially when you're trying to hold on to yourself.
But sometimes, Anne figured, you have to let it go. You have to accept that your destiny is in your hands. That you’re the only one who can do certain things, even if you wish the past never went away. Even if… you had to accept sometimes, you’re not actually doing that. But it was a nice thought that you could.
Anne closed the door on Sprig III’s– it’s them.
She turned around, unable to process the waving reflection on the glass.
Marcy and Sasha. Her best friends. Her only confidants, the closest thing she had to a human chosen family.
Marcy with her amazing smile. Sasha with shades and a jacket. Both looked tired from the trip but so, so happy to see her.
They are happy to see her, and Anne wouldn’t let anything ruin this.
She felt the tears swelling up inside her, and decorating her face. The three of them were together again. Anne, Sasha and Marcy. Crying, she hugged both of them, and accompanied them outside.
“-- and here I’m thinking this great guy is like, a total 9, but guess what he figured I would be into? Owls.”
Sasha kept telling her story, which was admittedly pretty funny. It was the weekend, so she only had a half-shift anyway. They had the afternoon for themselves.
She had to have known Marcy was visiting. Must have completely slipped her mind. Even if she had wanted to make it a surprise, Sasha would have let her know to make sure she wasn’t working. When did they tell her? Last week? Last month…?
“What about you Anne?” Marcy asked her, after the laughter subsided. “How’s it going?”
Where am I?
Anne was holding a paper cup of water on a park bench, by a shopping mall. She’s with her best friends.
What did she just ask me?
“Oh, um, nothing really.” The water inside the paper cup reminded her of– ”Just kinda chilling, you know. Day in, day out.”
The confidence she had back in the Aquarium was quickly evaporating. Routine creates confidence. She was dealing with the surprise in bursts.
“Well, that’s okay.” Said Marcy in infinite good faith. “I kinda feel that way when my regular job is going full-force.”
“Wait, you have a job?” Sasha asked, halfway through a giant slurpee.
“Of course I have a job! I didn’t pay for my plane ticket with my webcomic money!” Marcy said, checking her phone. “... I use that money for my streaming subs there’s not a lot of it left.”
“Frog, girl, do you have all of them? Isn’t that like two hundred bucks a month?”
“Sasha! You still say that!” Marcy pointed out, excited. “I thought I was the only one!”
They both laughed. Anne was okay just listening in. Being in the comfort and company of her friends helped calm the voices in her head. There wasn’t a lot more important than what they were up to, as far as she was concerned.
Sasha said she was going to the bathroom, leaving her alone with Marcy. She realized, a bit too late, she had been quiet most of the day.
“Hey, Anne, can I ask you something?” Marcy started, calling her attention. “Is everything alright?”
“What do you mean?”
“You just seem kinda off. You started crying when you saw us.”
“Ah… I just didn’t expect to see you all so soon, it happens.”
Marcy looked at her in a weird way. Like she was listening in.
“Right.”
Anne was afraid to look at the water. She didn’t want to see herself.
“So, uh, how’s Oregon?” She picked it up, trying to change the subject. “What’s the name of your town again?”
“Oh, I actually moved from La Grande recently. It was cool, the town right next to it had some great tourist traps, but Oregon just wasn’t for me. My parents love it, though. I’m in San Francisco now! It’s great, I…” Anne still heard what Marcy was saying, she just didn’t commit much of it to memory.
Maybe she wasn’t good enough to have friends anymore, a tiny voice inside her said. This was exhausting her in a bad way. Too many things to keep track of, too much to do. It was like she was acting out a role she didn’t remember being cast for. No one gave her a script.
It was supposed to be easier. It used to come easier. She didn’t want to ruin this too, but it felt like she was going to…
“... it’s hard for me too, you know.”
“Huh?” The fragment caught her attention after some silence.
Marcy was looking at her, a little more serious than she was used to.
“I mean everything. After we came back, I thought for a while that… like, don’t you wish we stayed?”
Anne felt her heart starting again. It had been so long since someone just asked her that. Back when it was a more popular topic some people did just flat-out ask her opinion on it, but she was so young. Having come back was going great. Everything felt more colorful in her memories.
“I…” She choked on some words. She felt the water cup trembling in her hand.
Marcy’s smile faded as she put her hand on top of Anne’s.
“Sorry Anne, it just feels like you’re holding something back that you really don’t have to, and the timing… you don’t have to hold anything back. Not with me. Or with us, you know?”
She looked to the side and realized Sasha had come back at some point, and was watching everything with a concerned, I go to the bathroom for five minutes and you start an emotional arc without me look on her face.
“What’s going on, dude?” The blonde asked, sitting on the bench. She was surrounded by friends. mis
“I don’t know.” Anne blurted out, finally crying. She dropped the paper cup and covered her eyes with her hands. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me anymore. Nothing feels like it should. I don’t feel like I should.”
While she hoped that these were the words that came out of her mouth, the actual sounds probably sounded more like auuughhhrongamorthingofeehdl as the woman bawled her eyes out in the middle of a park.
“Alright let’s… move this somewhere else.” Sasha said, holding Anne by her hand and helping her up.
“Girl, you need therapy.” Was Sasha’s inventive diagnosis after some superficial talking.
They were all sitting on the couch at Anne’s house, surrounding a meal combo with a lot of pizza and cheesy bread, alongside as much soda as they could afford. Anne, true to form, was a mess. Messy hair, messy house clothes, messy everything.
Everyone was wearing her comfy house clothes at this point, actually, which was… not weird, just not where she expected this to go.
“Therapy is great! I recommend it! Heck, Terri recommended my therapist.” Marcy mentioned. “Henri’s super cool, they really help me out. Sometimes I just blurt out stuff I don’t even know is bothering me and they just know exactly what to say!”
Anne was downing sugary drinks and bread. Felt great.
“It just feels weird, you know? I never really talked about this stuff with anyone but you two. Even my parents, I, I-I just don’t feel like it’s their problem.”
“It’s no one’s problem, dude. Nobody minds doing this. Really.” Sasha bumped her lightly. “You can’t just keep assuming you can handle everything that comes your way, even if it’s something coming from you.”
“We both know how hard it can get, Anne. I mean, we both go to therapy, right?” Marcy asked Sasha, stuffing her face full of bread.
“I am therapy.” Sasha downed an entire coffee mug full of soda. “People come to me for therapy.”
“Aren’t you a child psychologist?” Anne asked.
“What, kids aren’t people anymore?”
They laughed. Anne knew the voices inside her head were never going to really stop, but she also felt this was the best medicine right now.
“You know…” Sasha said, with a slice of pizza on hand. “I’m just gonna say it; this could use some bugs. Like a big dumb beetle on it. I’m not wrong.”
Anne and Marcy both looked at her for a full three seconds before bursting out laughing. Soda went through the wrong hole in Anne’s throat and she started coughing uncontrollably, but couldn’t stop laughing. It hurt so bad.
Anne didn’t remember the last time she laughed this hard. Even if the empty sensation in her chest made itself impossible to ignore, she loved that her friends came to visit. Her house felt so alive with people in it.
“Frog’s sake, I missed you guys.” She said, trying not to choke up again. Soda or tears. “Thank you so much.”
“Seriously though, you gotta let us in sometimes, okay? We really, really want to help.” Marcy said, stopping her snacking.
“Hey, you can always call us, Anne.” Sasha put her arm around Anne’s shoulders, pulling her in. “We love you, dude.”
“Yeah.” Marcy said, hugging her from the right side. “Just because we don’t live super near each other doesn’t mean we’re not always available if you need us.”
Nope. Not happening. Not making it through this without crying. Messy girl cries all over her takeout.
“You know, I think we could make this a thing every week or so.” Sasha mentioned. “Like yeah, Marcy can’t come every week, but–”
“Oh! Oh! I can livechat you guys!” Marcy pulled out her phone with filthy, greasy hands, and immediately dropped it. In the attempt to retrieve from the ground, she bumped her head and fell. But in a funny, harmless way. “aaaa owwww I'm okayyyy”
“Just… just saying, I can come in on Fridays. We can hang out. Cook some food, talk about dumb stuff.” Sasha held Anne’s hand, and despite the grease and smell of pizza, it made her heart lighter. “You up for it?”
“I…”
Wouldn’t it be nice if it was that easy?
“Yeah. Yeah, that would be great. I’d love it.”
Wouldn’t you love it if it was this straightforward?
“Yo, we’re gonna make some killer hamburgers next week.” Sasha said, going back to her binge-eating. “Oh wow this is gonna feel terrible tomorrow.”
“Totally.” Marcy agreed, still nursing the bump on her head.
You know better.
The dark soda in her cup was just as good a mirror as any.
“Do you guys ever get, like…” she started, but let it trail off. Both girls looked at her expectantly, prompting her forward. “... never mind.”
“No, what’s up?”
“It’s stupid, I don’t gotta…”
“Come onnn.” Sasha insisted.
It’s just politeness. They don’t want to know. Shut up.
“Like… when you’re thinking something, and then something else comes in louder. And you don’t know where it came from, but it’s always there. And it doesn’t like you.”
Marcy passed some paper towels around. Their expressions became less excited as Anne kept talking.
“And it just kinda… tells you to do stuff. Bad stuff. But you know it’s not real. It’s not someone from outside telling you things or, or it’s not like when you heard someone magic inside your head in Amphibia, it’s… it’s you. It’s just you. But it doesn’t like you. I-it hates you.” Anne couldn’t really take her eyes off the table. The carvings and lily pads kept her grounded. She wanted to stop crying. “It wants you gone.”
Marcy looked like she wanted to say something, but decided not to, looking away. Sasha, however, didn’t break line of sight with Anne.
“Yeah, sometimes. Hasn’t happened in a while, though.”
Anne looked at her friend, surprised.
“Wh-what did you do to make it stop?” She tried not sounding desperate, but it’s hard when that’s all you do, isn’t it.
“It, um…” Sasha coughed a bit, like she was embarrassed. “It didn’t really stop as much as I realized what was going on and addressed it. These things sneak up on you when you’re stressed or when you have something really important on your mind. Something you don’t want to talk about, but it wants to come out. It forces you to look at it. I kept thinking about… sigh, alright, let’s do this...”
She served herself more soda, but drank it with about the same tenor someone would drink whiskey at 3am. It looked weird. Very Sasha.
“I didn’t really talk to my parents about being bi. It was just something I knew, and you guys knew, so I didn’t care. It wasn’t really ever a secret, but… like, my dad wouldn’t have liked it. I never said it out loud back in their house.” She took a deeper breath than usual, gulped half her cup, and kept going. “So when he died, my mom asked me if I wanted to bring my boyfriend to the service. I think you were there, Anne…?”
“Oh, yeah…” She trailed off, but she remembered that afternoon. It…
“Well, you were out of town Marcy, and I don’t remember if I mentioned it to you– my mom did not like Edwyn.” She pointed at nothing in particular. “Like, yeah, they were a dude, but my mom kept calling him Emily. Cuz that’s how she met him, and it just… she kept talking to me about how this wasn’t right every time we were alone, and people kept saying nice things to us about my dad, and she kept pushing me and… it had been so long since I thought about it, but this really specific memory kept coming to mind. My mom and my dad talking at the dinner table about people like me, for years while I grew up. How it wasn’t right. How anyone who wasn’t like them couldn’t really be happy; only pretend to. How we shouldn’t do things in public. And after I had enough, I kinda… um.”
“You freaked out.” Anne said.
“Hell yeah I did!” Sasha finished her cup, pouring more liquid sugar and acting like that was a shot. “Hey, you wouldn’t happen to have actual beer here, would you? Wouldn’t be that bad, if we’re telling stories.” She asked as a goof, already knowing the answer. Anne didn’t drink.
“But yeah, I just kinda poured everything out in the middle of dad’s service, and then I took Edwyn and left. I had a lot to say. How it wasn’t fair, or how they didn’t really love me, or just… how I wasn’t what they expected. Didn’t talk to my mom for like a year; didn’t go back home for longer. But… it felt like I took a huge weight off my back. The stuff broadcasting in my head didn’t feel so powerful anymore, cuz I knew where it came from. I realized it was the same voice that kept telling me I wasn't good enough all the way back when I was a kid. Understanding it had an origin, it just kinda… clicked. And I mean, yeah, that was after therapy. Therapy helped.” She poured herself more soda and drank it with almost as much speed as one breathes oxygen. “All jokes aside, therapy rules. It made sense of a lot of stuff.”
“Do you think you have anything like that on your mind, Anne?” Marcy asked. “Anything that would create thoughts like that?”
It’s none of their concern. They’re going away in a few hours. Just say no. Just say no. Say no. You have nothing in mind.
“I don’t think so…”
“Yeah, you do.” Sasha said, bumping her lightly again. “I know you.”
Anne didn’t answer. She didn’t know where to start. Every sentence died in its formative stage. What if they thought she was stupid? What if they thought she was just complaining?
“You don’t gotta tell us if you don’t feel like you can, but, hey, if it’s like 4am in a Wednesday and you figure you’re finally ready, you call one of us, okay? You wake us up and we’ll be there for you.” Sasha said, volunteering Marcy along.
“You’re not alone. You get that, right?” Marcy doesn’t mean it. She’d be annoyed if you actually called her.
“Yeah.” You don’t mean it either. Tell them to leave. Do not ignore what you know is– “I… thanks, guys.”
She felt the intimacy of her friends as a response. The girls let comfortable silence take over. The sunset broke through the semi-open curtains and illuminated them with cool light. The neighbors must have been out for the weekend, because the apartment was strangely quiet. She suddenly realized Sasha had never let go of her hand, and Marcy was basically drooping over her.
She hadn’t felt this well in years. Basking in the glow of twilight in silence. She could fall asleep right now and it would be a good night. Just close your eyes… what’s the worst that can happen, really.
Anne didn’t know how long they stayed this way. All she knew is her mind couldn’t ruin it.
Sasha was probably right. This… feeling inside her chest, this doubt wasn’t going to go away if she didn’t say it out loud at some point. To anyone. It just might not be today, but… it had to happen.
Not alone. That’s all it came down to. As bad as it got, she was never alone.
“Hey, dude.” Sasha called, almost whispering. “Can I be real for a second?”
“Go for it.”
“I don’t wanna drive home.”
Anne opened her eyes. The beautiful afterglow of the sun was done. It was nighttime. They had probably taken naps at some point. This had a distinctively real atmosphere to it, since more people were involved. Which made her self-conscious.
“Huh?”
“Like can I crash here?”
“Oooh, actually, yeah.” Marcy mentioned, eyes still closed. “I don’t sleep in airplanes and I was too excited yesterday to get any sleep, sooo…”
“You guys sure? It’s not like… I mean I got a second bed, but…”
“Boonchuy, if you don’t gotta move, I will sleep the entire night on this couch with you like this.” Sasha came closer and cuddled with her. “If this is cool, I mean.”
“Oh…” Anne realized nobody had hugged her in weeks. She could feel Sasha’s heartbeat on her side. “I-it’s alright.”
“Great!” Marcy took this as a greenlight to cuddle with Anne too, grabbing her from the right. “Cannot sleep without hugging something, ever since I was 10.”
Anne winced.
“Oh?” Marcy asked, worried.
“Ah, nothing, just…” Anne stopped for a second. “M-my right side is sore. I slept weird. You’re good, come here. Please.”
Marcy moved a bit, joining the other two. This was better. She was almost overwhelmed by the warmth and safety of her friends. It made the pain on her side completely bearable.
“This is perfect. Just like old times.” Anne whispered, falling asleep. “I missed you so much.”