Once Bitten, No Longer Shy

A scream rings out, bodies quickly moving to make room for the petite blonde pushing her way through the crowded room, whispering questions echoing off the walls of the church, surprised the stained glass didn’t shatter. “You’re here, you’re really here,” Kat exclaims, her voice cutting through the chatter, pulling Taylor into a hug, squeezing her until Taylor pats Kat’s back, silently asking for a reprieve, part of her wishing she didn’t value her ability to breath just so that they could stay like that for a moment longer. She doesn’t blame her, hearing her voice in person made Taylor realize just how much she had missed her best friend, and how much she truly took for granted until it wasn’t there, but it is again, Taylor’s home, holding her oldest friend, the person who knows her better than anyone else in the entire world, swearing to herself to never leave her again, God as her witness.

Kat leans back, keeping her hands locked on Taylor’s upper arms, her acrylics digging into the skin through the thick material of Taylor’s sweater. She tilts her head, taking in the difference in her appearance, Taylor’s once dark brown hair now streaked with stripes of blonde, strikingly similar to Kat’s own hair color. “Yeah, I’m home,” Taylor murmurs, brushing her thumb over Kat’s wet cheek, the younger of the two leaning into the gesture, soaking up the warmth radiating off of Taylor’s hand.

“How long have you been here?” Kat whispers, careful of her volume, suddenly aware of the growing sets of eyes on the pair.

Taylor knocks her head, leading the way out of the crowded room, sidestepping questions and people alike, holding her breath until her sneakers sink into the grass. Kat catches her hand, taking the lead and pulling Taylor towards the swingset, the chains lightly creaking as the wind pushes the curved plastic seats. “I came back six months ago,” Taylor says, digging her heels into the dirt, jerking Kat to a stop.

Kat drops Taylor’s hand, but the look on Kat’s face sends a pang of pain to her own heart, no amount of time could’ve prepared her for it, and six months definitely wasn’t enough. “Why didn’t you come find me? Why didn’t you tell me?” Kat questions, her frown growing into a pucker, a sure sign tears are to follow, quickly and violently.

“Because I wasn’t ready,” Taylor whispered, reaching out and running a hand through Kat’s hair to push it back, tucking it behind her ear, like how she wore it when they were young before someone cruelly pointed out that her ears were a little too pointed and stuck out just a little too far.

Kat steps back, shaking her head to force the hair back to its position as a curtain, hiding her ears from the world, “And now?” 

Taylor steps forward, moving around Kat and making a beeline to the swings, sitting on the far right, the red plastic seat significantly less comfortable than when they were kids. “I’m sorry,” Taylor offers, unable to meet Kat’s eyes, her first tear sure to kick off Taylor’s own tsunami waiting just behind her eyes.

Kat’s black Mary Jane’s come to stand on the toes of Taylor’s black Converse, pressing just enough for Taylor to feel the pressure of Kat being there, like when Kat would hold Taylor’s hand during Sunday Mass or at school as a promise that she wouldn’t leave Taylor to fend for herself. She always was better at speaking up for others before herself. “Nothing you could’ve done,” she promises, taking a seat in the swing next to her.

“I could’ve been here,” Taylor mutters, shaking her head, a strand of her braid coming loose, falling in front of her eye.

Kat reaches over, tucking the strand back into the intertwined sections gathered at the base of Taylor’s head, letting her hand fall down until stopping at the scrunchie keeping the strands together, the velvet fabric of it, unbelievably soft under Kat’s fingers. “Your dad made sure you couldn’t be,” Kat murmurs, her fingers still stroking the plush fabric, feeling the stuffing underneath it.

Taylor abruptly stands up, her braid swinging from the force of her movement, “I’m talking about this, now, not-”

“No, you couldn’t have, it would’ve been too much,” Kat presses, staying seated, her fingers falling to play with the loose thread at the end of her skirt, “you may not remember, but I do, I remember how far away you’d disappear when your mom died.”

“And you were there for me, everyday, before school, after school, during, on the days I could make it!” Taylor exclaims, her nails coming to dig into the skin of her thigh, wishing she’d worn a longer dress, but this was the only black one she owned, the now ripped tights not doing much for modesty anymore. Part of her liked that, the angry part of her, a silent middle finger to the church, it’s congregation, it’s leaders, the building itself.

Kat stands up, silently missing being the taller of the two even if it’s been years since she’d ever been able to look Taylor in the eyes without any effort on her part. “And you’re here now,” she counters, taking Taylor’s hands in her own, letting her nails dig into her palms until blood starts to trickle out of the crescent shape wounds, having only scabbed over a few days ago, now torn open.

“We’re a mess,” Taylor mumbles, releasing her grip, watching as the blood soaks under her fingernails.

“A matching one at least,” Kat softly says, laughing as she holds Taylor’s hand in her own, comparing their scars. Taylor reaches over and swipes a tear from Kat’s cheek, Kat doing the same for her. “Now what?”

Taylor smiles so big, anyone else would’ve never been able to tell that she’d been crying just a moment ago, the pain quickly fading. “No plans, just,” she says, her words tapering off as she looks at the girl in front of her, Kat’s blue eyes shining with a remnant of tears, her makeup still pristine, just like her shining shoes and perfectly pleated skirt. She looks down at her own outfit, ripped tights and a dress meant for a much shorter girl, or at least a much different venue.

“I can’t believe you actually showed up here of all places,” Kat murmurs, afraid if she spoke any louder, everything would come crashing down again. Taylor’s eyes flick back up to her, an unspoken question lingering between the two.

Taylor reaches out once again, tucking Kat’s hair behind her ears, tracing the shell of them, all the way to the slight point, before her fingers wind back down, holding her cheeks in her palms. “Been ten years,” she sighs, letting her shoulders fully drop for the first time since she’d set foot in town.

Kat looks from Taylor’s shining eyes, to her swollen lips from her excessive nervous biting, “Do you still have the nightmares?” 

Taylor releases her teeths’ grip on her bottom lip, releasing a bark of laughter. “Of Sister Madga? Every time I hear smacking,” she confesses. 

“She died two years ago,” Kat says as he hands find Taylor’s waist, tugging lightly, just enough to pull Taylor to her.

“Hope she found peace,” Taylor murmurs, leaning forward and connecting their lips, she can feel Kat’s smile against her own, “I know I have.”