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He’s never felt anything like the absence of pain that comes with waking up on the staircase of his old house in Texas.
It’s confusion without panic. Frustration without the heat behind his ears. He can’t feel it but he can picture the pain rolling off him in waves, puddling at his feet and evaporating with the heat.
He clings to the railing for support. Looks up. Empty hallway, the tiniest sliver of the door to Sarah’s old room. Ajar. Looks down, the living room. Not half the mess it usually was. No rank soccer bag at the base of the stairs. No dirty work boots at the door. The house is his but it isn’t. He slowly steps down onto the second stair, the one with the squeaky riser, and rocks on the balls of his feet.
No squeak.
Movement in his peripheral. Someone in the living room. Still, his heart remains in his chest- doesn’t jump to his throat and curl his fingers into his palm. Frowning, he presses a hand to his chest, feels the stillness there.
Well, shit. That ain’t good.
He’d known, of course. The memory’s hazy but easily called on. The girl. The club. Payment for sins he’s never had any urge to atone for. Ellie. Bawling for him- his proud, stubborn girl that almost never asked anything of him, pleading for the one thing he couldn’t give her.
Get up.
Joel swallows. Steps down. Whatever’s in the living room’s gotta be better than the vision of Ellie’s face- swollen eyes, mouth gaping like a wound- that’s been branded into his brain, burned in so deep he can feel the indent of it when he breathes. His last sight of her, his last memory-
Except there she is.
Ellie blinks up at him from the living room floor. There’s a foot of cold hardwood left exposed between the area rug and the wall. Ellie’s jammed into that foot, curled around herself like she’s afraid she’ll contaminate the whole house if she touches something she shouldn’t.
He doesn’t recognize the sweatshirt she’s wearing, but it looks soft. Looks like something he would have picked out for her if he’d ever had the opportunity to be choosy instead of desperate. Green, a specific shade of green that he once made the mistake of mentioning suited her. She’d gagged exaggeratedly, but there was no hiding the pleased flush in her cheeks.
He’s hallucinating, obviously. She’s not really there. Because if she were, that would mean that he’s fucked up badly enough to have been blessed with two beautiful, perfect kids and get them both killed before they reached their twenties.
He swallows. Rubs where the pain in his chest should be.
Ellie’s still looking at him, all tangled limbs and sad eyes. If he blinks wrong, will she fade away on him? Leave him staring at the empty corner, clutching at air?
“Hi, baby,” he breathes.
She struggles for a second, chewing on her words the way she does when she’s not sure how to use ‘em.
“Nice place you got here,” she says eventually.
Christ alive, she talks. Joel could weep.
Suddenly, his arms are heavy at his side and he’s committing the cardinal sin of asking for more- greedy in a way that he knows has scarcely been rewarded in the past. How long has it been since he’s touched her?
When he goes to gather the nerve to reach for her, he discovers he’s already done it, hands outstretched like he’s calling toddler Sarah to his hip.
“Please,” he chokes. “Ellie, please.”
He doesn’t remember pleading for his own life at the end there, but this he’ll beg for. No question.
And then there she is, warm and whole and his again, arms in a vice grip around his waist. She’s a bit taller now, has to stoop a little to get her forehead in that familiar spot on his collarbone. The feeling is euphoric, like a shot of whiskey and a contraband pain pill after a hard day’s labor at the burn pile. A fix after skin-crawling abstinence.
Not a hallucination then, he decides. But then-
He palms the back of her, between her shoulder blades, and about sobs in relief.
Steady little hummingbird heartbeat, more familiar than his own.
She’s shaking now, deep-wracking sobs that resonate in his own chest, a hollow drum beaten alive with sound. He smooths back flyaway hairs with the palm of his hand, frowning when crying turns into a sharp wheeze, a whistle in her breath that reminds him of a cabin that smelled like iron and snow.
Ellie pulls away and breaks for the door. Joel follows at a run.
The front door slams against the wall with the force of her yank. Ellie leans against the threshold, sucking in air. The world outside is quiet and still. Could be Texas, too dark to tell. Joel instinctively knows he’ll never make it out the door to find out.
“You alright?” he asks when she’s breathing even again.
Ellie nods, closes the door with a pinched look that tells him whatever is outside isn’t quite computing for her either.
“Fine,” she lies. “Got the wind knocked out of me, I guess.”
It’s endearing how much faith she still has in her shit ability to lie to him. The fondness of it spreads warm across his mind, dulling the edges of the fear that’s piercing through the fog. She’d seemed like she was genuinely struggling there, gasping like each breath was her last.
“So this is home sweet home for you, huh?” Ellie asks brightly. A distraction, not a very good one, but Joel’s so thrilled to have her speaking to him again that he lets it take hold.
He shrugs. “Something like that. Little different. Like…”
The row of picture frames on the hall table catches his eye. Spotless, when they’d always been covered in dust before. Construction didn’t leave him a ton of energy for housekeeping, and while Sarah’d been one of the most responsible teenagers on the planet, she’d still been a teenager. And if he’s not mistaken…
“Like this.” He grins as he plucks one out of the mix. A freckled little toddler with a baby sprout hairdo on the top of her head. “This one’s new.”
Ellie rolls her eyes, going in for the snatch and giggling when he hangs on tight and tugs for it. It’s amazing how easy it is to sink back into this. Playful affection, tussling with her over something silly. After all that time, still as natural as breathing.
Thump.
Their eyes shoot up the staircase- Joel with interest, Ellie still as cagey as she’s always had to be. They go silent, straining to pick up on every detail of soft, padding footsteps in the hallway above their heads.
He knows. He has no way of knowing, but he knows. And he’s seen that look on Ellie’s face before- steadfastly casual, a little yearning, a little green-eyed. She knows too.
Her lip is sucked between her bottom teeth, eyes wide and watering as she stares at him like he’s gonna bolt and she won’t hold it against him for a second.
“C’mere,” he says instead, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “I’m so hungry, I would eat that shitty casserole Beth Ann brought to all the goddamn community picnics.”
“That had horseradish in it,” Ellie scoffs, horrified.
Miracle of miracles, the kitchen has everything he needs to whip up a couple of PB&J’s. An ice cold beer from that brewery that shut down while Sarah was in preK for him. Orange juice for Ellie because apparently this place knows just how painful it is for Joel to be reminded that he missed the little bit of growing up he was alive to watch her do.
“Joel…” Ellie says gently, eyes fixed over his shoulder at the empty staircase. They can still hear movement overhead, little living noises of someone going about their business, quiet and calm. “You should…I get that you want to go up there.”
“I don’t get the impression I’ve got a packed social calendar here, kid. Got all the time in the world.”
Maybe that’s the truth, maybe it’s not. For now he’s content wondering.
There’s a cordless phone on the kitchen island, sitting innocently in its base until it blasts its ringtone and scares the everloving shit out of them.
Joel watches Ellie screw her eyes up at it, feels the familiar rush of affection that comes with watching her experience something old world new.
“I don’t know what you’re looking at me for,” Ellie gripes. “It’s sure as shit not for me.”
The answering machine clicks on and, like it’s done a thousand times before, spits out Tommy’s voice.
“-I know, pumpkin, I do. I know, I know it hurts-”
Joel reels, the edges of his vision dripping with watercolor images of the night he put his first baby in the ground, rocking her like a newborn again and promising to do the impossible for her. Ellie sits stock still at the table next to him, color running out of her face.
“- but you gotta let ‘em help you, honey. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Ellie.”
And now Joel knows they’re playing with fire here. Knows exactly what’s at stake even if he’s not completely sure how.
Ellie drains her juice glass in one long pull, ice rattling from her shaking hand. She starts to say something but chokes again, hand going to her side in shocked pain. Joel hauls her up under the arms, near-dragging her to the window over the kitchen sink and throwing it open. The outside does its thing again, puts the wind back in her sails. Buys them some time.
When it’s over, Ellie looks wrecked. Joel panics, grabs for her. But she’s stepping back out of his reach, grabbing at the sides of her head so hard he’s afraid that she’s ripping at her hair.
It’s so long now, he thinks like an idiot. She’s so grown up.
“I need you to know,” Ellie says haltingly, stopping and starting over when her voice wavers. “I need you to know I never meant for it to be forever.”
Oh. They’re talking about it. They’ve been in this pleasant little liminal space where neither one of them was willing to revisit the past or acknowledge what’s happening now- but Ellie’s shattered that and Joel’s watching the pieces fall with a hangdog expression.
“No, no, baby. It wasn’t,” he soothes, and this time, she lets him grab on to her hand. “It’s all over now. No hard feelings, huh?”
A door opens and shuts upstairs. Ellie tries to pull away, but he reels her back in, cupping his palms over her clammy cheeks.
“Listen to me,” he urges. “I’m so proud of everything you’ve ever done. I mean that.”
Ellie scoffs. “Everything? You remember that I set the kitchen on fire?”
“And I put it out,” Joel says easily. “And then I had myself some of the best damn zucchini bread I’ve ever tasted.”
The lie’s worth it for the upturned lip that would have been a giggle when she was fourteen and still believed that if the whole fucking planet were on fire, he’d be the one to put it out. But they’re not really talking about kitchen accidents here, not when the rift torn between them had nearly torn them both to shreds.
Ellie turns her face in his hands, hiding her eyes.
“I hurt you.”
Joel nods. “And I’m proud of that too.”
He’s never met anyone that sticks to their guns like his kid. A lot of folks gave up on thinking in terms of right and wrong a long, long time ago. But Ellie…
He knows a double-edged sword when he sees one clutched in her gentle little hands. She was hurting too, hurting something awful. Hacked off on the behalf of a world that took every opportunity to screw her over, and running them both through in the process.
The phone rings again. They jump. One short burst, then straight to the answering machine.
“Goddamnit, Ellie! You cut that shit out right this second. You’re not goin’ anywhere, you hear? You’re not fucking going-”
Ellie jerks the plug out of the wall, cutting his brother off mid-tirade.
“Testy,” she says cooly.
Joel smiles.
“Tommy’s gettin’ a little impatient, seems like.”
“Tommy can go right ahead and bite me.”
She plays it casual, but he can see that her breathing’s acting up again. She opens the patio door and sticks her head out into the pitch black. Joel resists the urge to follow her there, resists the pull of the noises upstairs, sits his ass at the table and waits out his girls and their accidental tug-o-war.
“I hate to sound too full of myself here, but Tommy’s had a pretty shitty day too.”
“I said can,” Ellie mutters, abashed. “He’s also welcome to not bite me.”
It’s quiet for a few long, heavy moments.
“You should go upstairs,” Ellie says finally. “She’s waiting for you.”
“I can’t, baby girl. Not yet.”
She’s drifting towards the stairs herself, craning her neck at the bottom of the landing. She won’t look at him, knows what’s coming and doesn’t seem to want it anymore than he does. But he was telling the truth, he’s not setting foot on that staircase until she’s been seen safely out the door, until he knows that-
He sighs. “I need you to promise me something-”
“No.”
“I gotta know that you’re gonna take care of yourself-”
“Fuck off, Joel.”
“Ellie, this is happening.”
This is happening. He’s going, gone. She’s going to be all by herself again. She wouldn’t believe it if he tried to sell her on it, but he thinks he’s more scared than she is. He’s seen how she takes damage, how it makes her make herself small and hard and hungry so no one can beat her to the punch. And this time, he’s not gonna be there to ease her out of it.
She swipes angrily at her eyes with the sleeve of the comfortable sweatshirt he didn’t get to buy her, in this nice, safe home in the nice, safe world he never got to give her. He wants to stuff her pockets, raid the medicine cabinet, empty the kitchen, wrap her in the throw blanket from the back of the couch. It’s not fair, not fair that he gets to be done and at peace while she’s still out there, clawing tooth and nail and switchblade for everything he would have given her if he’d had the chance.
He pulls his own sleeve down over his hand, uses it to dry her cheeks. But it’s no use. The dam’s broken, the flood’s coming, and she’s drowning while he’s on dry land.
“Joel…”
“You’re gonna have such a good life,” he promises, giving up on the sleeve and wiping tears away with his fingers, his palm, his thumbs. “But you have to let yourself have it, baby. Okay? You got to eat for me. And keep your head on straight outside the walls-”
“Stop it,” Ellie pleads. “Just stop fucking talking, man. Okay? I can’t listen to you talk like-”
“Like I’m dead?” Joel finishes. “And you’re not?”
It rings in the air for a minute, both of them quiet for time they don’t have.
Delicately, like she’s afraid of him hearing the thing she’s telling him to his face, “I could go with you? Upstairs or whatever. I think… I think that’s like an option or something.”
It’d be a shock if this were the first time he had to force the rest of her life back into her hands. But this isn’t the first, second, or third time he’s been the thing that stands between her and the rock, pushing her towards the hard place. It feels like her first day of school. His first overnight patrol. Like that godawful first night she’d slept in the garage.
He’s scooping her off the operating table again, but this time she’s the one holding the scalpel.
“No, kiddo,” he says firmly. “Not today.”
A tremor at his wrist. He looks down, squinting in surprise at his fully functioning watch. The hands are moving much too quickly, a dizzying pace around a spot of red that might be blood.
The message is clear. They’re running out of time.
“Okay,” he sighs. “Okay. Here’s what we’re gonna do.”
He pulls his watch off with a practiced tug and grabs for her arm, hanging on when she tries to squirm away.
“You take that with you- and anytime you need me…”
Joel trails off, wants to say that he’ll be there but knows that’s a nasty thing to do to her when he went through twenty years of not feeling a twinge of Sarah and wishing everyday that he did. It feels cruel, like he’s taken a kid that was perfectly fine on her own and given her a taste of something that was always going to get yanked away from her at the end.
It’s a strange feeling- guilt with no regret.
“Anytime you need me…” He clamps his mouth shut hard, knows if he opens it again, he’ll be sobbing harder than she is. He nods sharply at the watch, hopes she gets the message.
The answering machine is back in action, all static and feminine sobbing. Maria maybe. Could be Dina. He’s hoping for his brother’s sake that it’s not Tommy because his kid’s got a wicked streak in her and she knows when she’s been handed a target on a silver platter.
“You’re gonna look older than me, next time I see you,” Joel teases, hand on her head. God willing. “Let’s see how funny all those dinosaur jokes sound then.”
Ellie snorts, then sniffs hard to get her running nose under control. God, she’s a mess. Joel can’t imagine he looks much better.
“I don’t now if I have three thousand years left in me,” she admits.
He barks out a laugh, it comes out a little hysterical. A little desperate. “Won’t be all that long. Another hundred, hundred and fifty? You’ve been eating your vegetables, right?”
Ellie smiles. “Agreed. 150 years.”
He opens the door for her, feels cool air stinging the tear tracks on his face. Ellie follows at a snail’s pace, eyes on the staircase like she’s considering making a run for it.
“Hey?” He pulls her into another tight, rocking hug and does his best not to let her hear him cry. “150’s not too bad. We can manage that.”
“Joel.”
She swallows, spent. He can see her trying to say it, knows how badly she must want to but can’t get the words out.
“I know,” he promises. “I know. I loved every second of you, baby girl. Every second I got to have.”
Then the door’s closed behind her, and Joel is alone. It should be easy, going for the stairs once she’s gone, but it’s not. He’s always been a coward, he reminds himself ruefully. He squints at the living room floor, where Ellie was sitting earlier, and slides something out from under the couch with the toe of his boot.
No Pun Intended.
He grabs for the book like its water and not shitty puns and he’s a dying man and not a dead one. With the book held tightly against his silent heart, he climbs the staircase.