Summer Flowers and the Ballad of Two Loners

Celia had driven most of the four-hour excursion to this odd outlet of forest, but the journey hadn’t seemed to tire her in the least. As far as Jerrie knew, Celia couldn’t become tired at all. Not because she was an overbearingly energetic or well rested person, but because she was in a constant to state of energy-wise indifference, drifting and almost blank. Which made it surprising that she was such a good driver. She had made it over long stretches of highway, after which came the back roads, which were either bumpy, in the open with lovely views of scattered and endless fields, or squashed and nightmarish, lined with equally squashed, but tidy restaurants. Unique, but cluttered shops lined these roads, and both Celia and Jerrie could feel themselves being drawn in to the collections of oddities that lined the storefront windows. 

The cabin they had rented was past this main area of the town, and up a hill for a few minutes. Celia and Jerrie watched as lonely green fields fell away to tall trees, with rich, murmuring leaves. Jerrie couldn’t tell what kind they were. She’d have to ask Celia later. Celia always knew odd little tidbits about everything around her. Eventually the road shifted into a narrow dirt path, and Celia bit her lip, showing her first sign of concern over this whole trip. With care, she maneuvered their SUV over slippery soil and pebbles. They passed by a few other houses on their way up, stopping as Jerrie scrambled for her glasses and squinted out her window, trying to make out the addresses. Eventually they came to their cabin. 

It was small, less of a wood log cabin and more of a romantic little thing, with sandy colored stone bricks carefully stacked to form the front wall, and an all-encompassing terracotta roof. They confirmed that it was the right address, then walked up a small dirt path towards the cottage. The grass surrounding said path was light, breezy, and overgrown, scattered with what Jerrie assumed were wildflowers. A note posted on the door apologized for the owner not being able to be there, and let them know the keys were in the mailbox. Jerrie ran back down the path, opened the mailbox, and fished around inside. Meanwhile, Celia took the note off the door, turning it over in her hands. Jerrie retrieved the keys, and pinged the red metal flag of the mailbox down. Then she jogged back to Celia, unlocking the door. 

The interior of the cottage had the same feel as the exterior: charming, rustic, and just a bit small. In the entranceway, there was a coat hanger and a tiny side table, on which Jerrie dropped the keys. Celia walked in after her, not bothering with the luggage just yet. She let out an amused little giggle, and brushed past Jerrie to twirl in the open space between the door and the kitchen, arms swinging at her sides. Jerrie felt herself grin, and she followed Celia into the home. 

Jerrie had known the cottage was only one floor, but it still seemed odd to her. The first thing she noticed was a tight kitchen, with an old but reliable stove, and plain wood cabinets. There was a less reliable looking oven, and a small round table with two chairs off to the side. Then, there were the bedrooms. There was one main one, with a queen sized bed and not much room for anything else, then another bedroom with two twin beds. One bathroom, no dining room, and a sunroom, with walls covered in an endless expanse of window. From the sunroom, there was a door leading into a large backyard. It was covered in the same wild grasses as the front, and ringed with darker forest all the way at the end.

The whole place felt unbearably warm and bright to Jerrie. She was already certain that this would be a time where all her memories would become dazed, brushed with golden light. It was similar to the way she remembered good days when she was younger; everything so bright it faded around the edges, and left a fuzzy, comforting presence in her mind. The thought of something so perfect was almost intimidating to her. She looked everywhere in this house, and could so clearly see herself living; making breakfast in the lovely, cramped kitchen and eating at the little table with Celia, the two of them lying in the grass with the sun high in the sky, curling up on the couch in the sunroom and drinking, the two of them talking to the end of the world and back again. Everything she’d ever missed in the time they’d been apart hurtled back, resurfacing and filling her head with giddy bubbles.

Celia had found Jerrie in a time that she remembered as buzzed and bright with happiness. They’d both been going into their sophomore year of high school, and they’d met in a sunny graveyard. Without hardly a hesitation, Celia had become the closest friend Jerrie ever had. Every part of Jerrie seemed to tumble into Celia’s direction. They’d been equally quiet and awkward, but Celia had always had some sort of unearthly quality to her. Jerrie realized Celia hung out in the graveyard often, because they’d run into each other there again and again. Jerrie admitted she was there because she wanted to be alone, not actually so she could sketch its landscape. Celia, in turn, admitted that she came to talk to her grandmother, and that on the odd occasion, the grandmother would speak back. Celia had been full of mysterious oddities to Jerrie, but the other girl always treated them as nothing special. If she were to address it, Celia would find herself caught up in a dreamy, emotional plot of paranormal drama. However, she did not, so they remained just another part of her quiet, whimsical nature.  

Celia and Jerrie had grown together in that faded golden light filled feeling, getting into a quiet person’s soft sort of trouble. First, at Celia’s urges, they took walks late at night, sneaking through backyards, and over streams on the edge of town. They squinted up at the night sky, doing their damn best to find constellations, and Jerrie overloaded Celia with piles upon piles of book recommendations. In turn, it’d been Jerrie’s idea to steal beers out of the back of Celia’s fridge, since Celia’s father would never notice their absence. They’d taken two cans each, and laid down parallel on the floor of Celia’s bedroom, talking and laughing at the warm tingly feeling they’d brought on. 

It’d been too long since Jerrie’d last seen each her. Her leaving for college and Celia staying was a necessary sacrifice they’d agreed upon, but they were both bad at keeping in touch. Now Jerrie was a passing sophomore, going on junior, and Celia had been left behind, taking up helping with her father’s work. Jerrie felt almost--actually, she felt very much queasy with the pressure of wanting everything they’d had together back, and with making this week and a half getaway everything that their relationship had been missing for the past years. 

When Jerrie had finally gathered herself, and had determined that she would find Celia, the other girl was gone. It had only been a moment, but in a very un-Celia-like move, she’d decided to get their bags and stuff from the car. Flustered, Jerrie rushed out to help her. 

On that first day, they unpacked their suitcases into the drawers in the twin-bed bedroom (the drawers were bigger, so they’d agreed to use one each, no matter who slept where). They chucked their personal belongings where they saw fit: Jerrie’s books went on a table in the sunroom, Celia placed a single plain white candle on every surface where it wouldn’t be in the way. Jerrie had bought Celia a brand new set of watercolors, and placed them with her books in the sunroom. Celia brought out a stack of superhero comics Jerrie had long forgotten about. As the sun began to set, they explored the backyard, and deemed the surrounding woods good for hiking. Neither of them wanted to bother finding a grocery store, so they ate sandwiches they’d packed in a cooler, and made their way through their stash of snacks, using plates they’d found in one of the cabinets. By then, the wonder of conversation had started to return to them, and they fell asleep on the opposite twin beds, telling each other every story they’d gained in their time apart. 

The second day blurred by in quite the way Jerrie had thought it would. They’d gotten up, found that grocery store, then rushed back so they could hike around, continuing up the hill to find more houses just like theirs. Jerrie asked Celia about the trees, and she guessed that they were sycamore, but she wasn’t actually certain--just had a feeling they were. Jerrie, determined to know, promised to look it up when they got back to the house, but by then the thought slipped away. They had more sandwiches for lunch, then decided to continue exploring. They drove into town, going into every shop there, until Jerrie found an old family owned bookstore on one corner. At this discovery, they stayed inside for nearly an hour and a half. They returned to the house and fell asleep on the parallel twin beds. At 3 AM Jerrie woke up to find Celia gone. Whether Celia’s sleepwalking had returned or not, Jerrie was certain she had bumped around the unfamiliar house in a barely conscious daze. She called out Celia’s name, and got a confirming grumble in return. Celia, however, stayed wherever she was, and Jerrie fell fast asleep again. 

The third day was blindingly sunny, and made every particle of dust in the little house glow. They’d agreed to take the whole day off, and enjoy the little house. Jerrie was curled up on the sunroom couch, and had gone through two books already. She could see Celia in the backyard from where she sat. She was laying down, nearly completely engulfed by the ticklish grass. This struck Jerrie as something that was so incredibly characteristic of Celia, and reminded her of why she’d wanted to take this trip in the first place. Unnecessary nervous energy bounced around Jerrie’s ribcage, but she gathered her book, got a glass of water, and headed out to join her. 

As she approached Celia, it became evident that she was asleep, or close to it. The sun danced across her features in a state of warm semi-consciousness. Celia stirred as Jerrie kneeled down beside her. She sat up to take the glass of water out of Jerrie’s hand, and took a sip before handing it back. She gave a dazed smile, and gestured to Jerrie’s book as she lay down again.

“Read it aloud?” Celia asked as she shifted, getting comfortable. 

Jerrie felt herself grinning. “Sure.”

“Thanks, I want to fall back asleep real fast”

Jerrie gave an amused gasp of offense, and poked Celia in the side with her bare foot. Celia giggled, eyes still closed. She settled onto her back again, and Jerrie was silent. Waiting. Celia opened one eye to check on her, and when their gazes met, they burst into laughter, warm and bright. 

The fourth day rained them in, and Jerrie felt her idealistic, sun-filled visions begin to crumble. By then Jerrie had gone through all her books, and Celia read all her comics twice over. Moreover, Jerrie could tell Celia was pent up, too far away from home too long. While Jerrie stayed curled on the couch, Celia paced around and around the house, her fingers twitching and tapping restless melodies onto her thigh. Jerrie hadn’t even thought about this---about the rougher part of Celia’s distant, drifting personality. She could feel trapped so easily, and the slightest hint of something being wrong could stress her into oblivion. And Celia seemed to have an understanding of things that felt right and wrong beyond Jerrie’s understanding, and probably anyone’s. Even worse, Jerrie herself was quickly getting fed up with Celia’s pacing, each footstep ringing and banging about her ears. 

There was this awful tension between them, like both of their presences were becoming testy, and pushing against one another. She’d leave, if it was an option. Three days was a significant amount of time to spend with one person. Jerrie shouldn’t have planned to the point where one rainy day ruined everything, and she shouldn’t have been so selfish to drag Celia all the way here, just for herself. Jerrie stood, and before she thought hard about it, she’d wretched the door open and walked, one, two, four steps into the rain. She didn’t yell, or say anything, because she was worried Celia might hear it. And when she turned around, she saw Celia, who had run into the sunroom. She was staring through the window at her, concern warping her face. Jerrie watched water drip down the windows and over Celia’s features. 

Jerrie came inside, hair wet, and took a warm shower at Celia’s insistence. When she got out, dressed in her pyjamas, she searched for Celia, finding her lying on the large bed in the master bedroom. She patted the comforter, and Jerrie humored her, sitting and curling up next to her. That night, they talked again. Side by side, just like before, but even closer, because queen beds are a lot smaller with two people. The talked like they never had before, until things were sorted out and left behind, and at some point, Celia had drawn her into her arms, and Jerrie had given in and let herself run her thumb over Celia’s cheekbones. 

That next morning, Jerrie woke up to find Celia already up, making breakfast. Or rather, she had started breakfast, and all there was so far were two pieces of toast with honey smeared over them. Jerrie took a piece, and went to wrap her arms around Celia, so she could bump their foreheads together---or maybe something else, it was early, and she wasn’t thinking---and managed to get honey all tangled in Celia’s hair. Celia, not wanting to take a whole shower, proceeded to shove her head into the kitchen sink, much to Jerrie’s dismay. 

“That’s absolutely gross! We wash food in there!”

“I can’t hear you over the sound of me getting your honey out of my hair!” Celia grinned at her with water dripping from her hair, all over her shirt. Jerrie hissed, but didn’t fight too hard when Celia wrapped her arms around her like Jerrie had planned in the first place. However, she did protest when Celia wiped her wet forehead on her shirt. 

That day Celia tried out the watercolors, and painted a loose recreation of their backyard. They went back into town, and back to the bookstore, where this time, Celia was more amused at Jerrie’s absolute enamorment at the old, heavy tomes lining the shelves. This day, they teased and joked, and Jerrie considered this a new beginning of sunlight-yellow memories. She was no longer so focused on what had been, and let a different type of happiness with Celia start. 

Nevertheless, the next day, Jerrie felt herself holding back. How far could this very touchy, laughter filled, friendly relationship with Celia go? Jerrie had always been an overthinker, and she, like Celia, could get very stressed very easily. With Jerrie, it was when things weren’t consistent, and she couldn’t figure them out. Celia was beyond understanding, as was every person, but Jerrie was especially bad at reading signals, and was just unsure of where this trip was going. Not knowing scared her. So she flitted around Celia, wanting to spend every second with her, but not wanting to overwhelm her. Celia, who was not blind, picked up on this, and seemed to get even closer, resting her chin on Jerrie’s shoulder while she washed dishes, curling up to read Jerrie’s new books with her, and tapping rhythms on Jerrie’s knee whenever they sat together. 

Late that night, Celia confronted her about the uncertainty. She rested her arms on Jerrie’s shoulders, seeming to sway as she voiced her concerns, murmuring about how she cared about every part of her, and Jerrie began to sway with her, as one does, resting her hands on Celia’s hips almost like they were dancing. Jerrie, who had always been one to wait for the right moment to reveal things, and to plan into oblivion, gave up. She took her hands off Celia’s hips and placed them on her shoulders, close to the side of her neck. Then took a step closer---Celia was staring at her now, she could feel it---and brought their faces even closer, because hell with it, Jerrie had to do something, even though she could feel the risk of everything they’d ever had completely crumbling. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Jerrie could feel herself beginning to panic. Oddly enough, Celia closed the gap, pressing their lips together softly. And they stayed like that for a while, Jerrie feeling everything begin to fade into warm, soft darkness. 

For the rest of the trip, Jerrie let herself truly fade into the warmth, the sunlight, and the absolute giddiness, letting herself lose track of the days, and being more honest with Celia than she had in years. Celia was more honest too, because it took two to keep these sorts of situations going. It’d been delicate balance of flirting about each other and not quite getting anywhere. What Jerrie knew was that she was ridiculously happy. When they had to leave the cottage, Jerrie wan’t quite sure what they were going to do, but she was strangely okay with that. She and Celia would figure it out. With that, they left the sun-filled house, with their own new sense of warmth and heart-wrenching comfort.