My Sun Shall Never Set

The sky is on fire. Brilliant, flaming orange as if the canvas material of the world itself is burning. Glorious gold is poured on the flame, streaks of it leaking into the cloudy blue sky where pink smoke dances and twirls. And the match that lit it up is now a bursting hot ember, crimson like a splash of blood. It is the dusk and the inferno; the earth is preparing itself for the next day, and it is doing it by cleansing the evil from its sky.

She is sitting beside me. We are on the pier, warm wood cutting into our asses, splinters digging into our thighs. My legs scrape back and forth through the water, tracing trails through the reflection of the blaze. But her legs are still. Her face is impassive.

For the first time, I look at her, really look at her, staring into the sunset. She is beautiful, I realize. Golden eyes, magnified by the sun, tan skin as a hint of her heritage, thick black curls soft as the down of a bird, lips smooth and heart-shaped, lashes long and thick. My best friend since the day I was born; thirteen years. How did I not realize this before?

"Evie?" I whisper, for now, my legs were halted as well, and I was equally as still like her. What am I feeling?

She looks at me. My heart thumps. There is fear in her eyes. Is she afraid of me?

Then a smile, small and sad, breaks across that face. "Mavie," she says. "Mavie I have to tell you something."

I nod her on.

Butterflies jump in my stomach.

"It's okay if you don't return this feeling, but...I like you. I like you like that. More than a friend." My mind races. My heart skitters inside of my chest as if it is a bird flapping its wings viciously against the side of a cage. "We can stay friends. It's okay if you don't--"

I can't take it any longer. I make up my mind. Suddenly her lips are on mine, my hands are gripping her curls, her hands are on my shoulders.

It is awkward.

It is young.

It is stupid, reckless, hopeless.

But it is love.

⪥

The sky is bright and pink. Shadows of birds flying high above shimmer in the surface of rouge puddles that litter the drive. Her hand is in mine, warm, hot, comforting. It is the thrill of fifteen. The thrill of forbidden love as we walk in secret down the abandoned road, safe from the prying eyes of homophobic parents.

My steps are measured, but her steps are wild and carefree. She skips, dragging me behind her. She giggles as she jumps over puddles and twirls under the pink candy sky.

"Would you rather," she begins, swinging our interlocked arms between us. I smile at her shyly. As much as I hate to admit it, I love her silliness. My silly girl. "Live your life happy but alone or sad but with people?"

I sigh. Stare into the sky. Think about my answer as we stroll along.

"My life would not be happy alone. And my life would not be sad, so long as I had you, and you are a person, are you not?" Evie is serious suddenly. Her laughter subsides. "Eve?"

"I don't think I could live without you, to be honest. I know it's probably bad," she rolls her shoulders and looks up. Our hands detangle as she steps ahead of me. "But it's the truth. I don't know if I would survive."

Her words hit me, they hurt me, they leave scratches. It is the truth, and I know it because I feel the same way.

I step forwards and take her hands in mine. She tilts her face towards me. We move together; we kiss deeply; my heart explodes in my chest like it does when her electric hands touch my skin.

"It will never happen."

⪥

My hands are over her eyes.

The sun is blazing hot, scorching my skin.

Her hair tickles me.

She giggles, and despite the fact that she is now mature, that her voice is now smooth and rich like an adult, that she is now eighteen, she still sounds young.

My body presses against hers from behind and I whisper sweetly into her ear, "Keep them closed."

"Ok." We walk forwards, my feet stumbling over the steps as we moved upwards. But in her heeled sandals, Evie still moves gracefully upwards.

Whiny little yips bleed through to her ears and her mouth drops open in anticipation and surprise. I lift my hands to reveal the swarming little balls of fur that are beagle puppies. She gasps. Tears streak down her face as she kneels and coos and smiles as if she is the happiest girl in the world.

But truly I am the happiest girl in the world.

Because I have her.

⪥

"You lied. For years Mavie. My own daughter!" my mother yells at me, her voice more shrill than the sirens racing by outside.

I pick up my suitcase.

I set my jaw.

I am twenty years old. I am not a child. She can control me no longer.

"Don't you dare walk out that door Maven." My teeth grind together. Evie is waiting for me in the car outside. I turn around. I move to the door. "You will regret this!" she calls to me.

"Like hell I will."

⪥

There are champagne flutes and wine and chrome rose sunsets.

Our dresses match. Both a deep smoke grey. Mine is flowered and tight, hugging my curves and swirling around my ankles. Hers is silky and loose, floating around her as if she is a princess. She is not a princess though. She is a queen. A goddess. My queen. My goddess.

I stare into the mirror with her behind me. We have no one. No one but each other.

"You look beautiful," she remarks as she tucks a lock of my coffee cream hair behind my ear. It is straightened and tightly wound in a bun fixed with white flowers and pins, but loose curls have escaped already.

"So do you." Truth be told, I can't stop staring at her reflection in the golden-edged mirror. "Are you ready to be my Mrs?" My voice is breathy and desperate.

She presses a kiss to my neck. My heart still jumps, my mind still races, the butterflies still dance, even after all this time.

"Till death do us part," she whispers.

⪥

The monitor beeps loudly, irritatingly. Outside the sun is rising over a navy blue swatch of the sky.

"You said the colour of the sky was going to be our clue," she says groggily from beside me. Her face is pressed into a couch cushion. But her hand is interlocked with mine, red and raw from me squeezing it.

I squeeze it again and press a hand to my forehead as another contraction comes.

She squeezes it back.

I gulp back the pain, reminding myself of the future, reminding myself that this could be her experiencing this pain.

"Maybee....i-i-it is." The pain is too great for me to properly speak.

I gasp. My hips throb.

She kisses my hand. And although she is exhausted, she stands up to wrap me in her arms.

"We'll get through this baby. You've got this. I believe in you." Despite everything I smile and bury myself in the basking glory of this girl--no, a woman now--that I miraculously found. I glance out once more at the sky.

"Just don't let me go."

⪥

The sky is blood red. The sun is a golden disk of lava in the pool of scarlet. I am angry. I am scared.

Evie is beside me, holding my hand as if she can't bear to let go. Her head is on my shoulder; her tears are dripping down my back. I stare out at the sky.

How? Why?

How did our baby girl fall so ill? Why did our baby girl fall so ill?

Laney whimpers behind us; Evie is instantly up. She is rushing to her side, brushing back the tears from the soft little cheeks and pressing kisses on those beautiful curls. When the pain ramps up, when the cries begin, I call the nurses.

As they come in I am numb.

As they administer whatever the fuck it is they use, I am numb.

As they leave I am numb.

Evie comes forwards. She wraps me in her arms. She presses a kiss on my forehead.

"Come in the hall," she says to me.

"But--Laney--" she shushes me, takes my arm, and leads me out. We kiss, the butterflies are back, again. It has been so long. I thought they disappeared.

It is my turn to break down. It is my turn to let my tears fall on her. I am numb, but with her I am alive.

"I'm right here," she says.

⪥

"Take the day off." The nurses are kind here. They know our story.

"We can't..." I say. I lean against the wall of the children's ward and watch my toddler sleep tangled in sheets and tied to a bed by tubes and wires as if she is an experiment.

Evie is beside me, like always.

"Yes you can. Tell her you're going for a date; we'll take care of her. Go to a restaurant. Go home. Take a shower. Watch a movie." The nurse gives me a knowing look.

"But..."

"You're right," says Evie. She takes my hand and leads me inside the room. "Laney," she whispers.

Those green eyes, identical to my own, shoot open. Silly little thing, faking being asleep. I can't help but smile to myself. My silly girl. My sweet girl. My brilliant girl.

But she is not smiling.

"Don't go Mama," she says. "Don't give up on me. Don't let me go."

"Baby we are not letting you go at all! Just one night. Just one night and we'll be here bright and early at sunrise." Evie is calm; I am nervous energy.

"No please Mommy! Mama! Mommy!" she tries. But we kiss her on her cheeks, we tell her we love her, we say we'll see her in the morning.

⪥

Morning comes, the sun rises like an angel and we get a call from the hospital.

Laney has an emergency.

We rush to the hospital.

Halfway there we receive another call.

We are hopeful. Butterflies are swirling.

But no....

Laney has passed...

Her eyes have shut...

Her heart has finally failed...

My butterflies die...

I cannot drive the car...

I crash. We crash.

⪥

Evie is screaming.

Evie is bloody.

Sirens shrill as my mother's voice swirl around us.

I am numb. I can't feel a thing. But my heart is rapid. My soul is frantic. She has to be okay.

I reach. I cry. I scream.

They pull her out.

She is limp.

My throat is raw and torn as I tear the cries from my throat, the same way they tear my body from hers.

There are lights. Bright as the sunset.

Stars. Darkness. Sanitiser. Dread.

I scream again and again, but they do not listen. I need Evie, and they will not listen.

She is pushed in a car. A bright car. Bright as the sunset. Shrill as my mother.

And then I am asleep.

⪥

Evie is paralyzed.

Then Evie is brain dead.

Then they ask me to let her go.

I cannot, I say.

It would be for the best, they say.

I can't.

But I have to.

So I whisper in her ear.

So I press a kiss to her cold cheek as the monitor flatlines.

I whisper her a promise.

"I will love you until the sun stops rising."

I am numb,

as the last part of me drifts off into the dark abyss,

where the sun never rises,

nor sets.