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“Oh Kamilah,” her mother breathes, hugging her tight. “You’re so incredible, so perfect. The most talented woman— our only daughter.”
Tahani wakes up sobbing.
She shakes uncontrollably, unable to stop the tears from flowing, to stop the fear clawing at her, the sheer panic that goes all over her body. She hates how much she’s not at ease, how she hasn’t grown to come to terms with her rocky relationship with her parents and her sister. Because that’s all it is, anyway— a rocky relationship. Nothing more or nothing less. Kamilah is better than her, anyway, more talented; all she had when she was alive was her money and her desire to surpass her sister. And she didn’t— she never did.
She doesn’t want to talk to her soulmate, doesn’t want to even consider it— but oh, what other choice does she have? Her soulmate is there, and she’ll comfort her, as much as she doesn’t seem fit for the position. She wasn’t anybody when she was alive (she lived in Arizona her whole life!), and she constantly makes offhand jokes about Tahani’s wealth. But oh, she’s made for her, and Tahani is made for her, so she doesn’t have much of a choice now, does she? She’ll have to get used to the woman of her dreams who’s not really the woman of her dreams.
She manages to get through the clown door, her heart beating hard. She knows this is stupid, Eleanor probably won’t even care about her ‘rich people problems’ like she’s called them so many times. She taps her soulmate’s shoulder, and after a few moments, Eleanor stirs awake, groaning and looking at her exhaustedly.
“Yes?” she yawns. “What d’you want, sexy giraffe?”
Tahani can’t even bring herself to smile. “Can we share the bed? Just for tonight, dear.”
She looks at her and blinks, still asleep and still very confused. “Wuh- why?”
She sighs and fiddles with her hands. “A nightmare.”
The silence drags on, but now Eleanor is looking at her, more awake and less annoyed. She sighs and gives her space in the bed, letting Tahani get into the covers. She does— it’s warm, but also kind of cold at the same time. She doesn’t question it.
Eleanor hesitantly wraps her arms around Tahani. “Can I hold you or would you prefer to just, you know, sleep it off? I’ve been meaning to get my hands on you, usual soulmate stuff, but boundaries and all that.” A pause. “So.”
Tahani manages a smile. “You can hold me, Eleanor, sweetie.”
“Okay,” she mumbles, holding her tighter. “You can talk about it. Or not.”
“I don’t know,” she says. “it’s just… rich people problems, as you say.”
“I don’t think nightmares are a rich people thing,” Eleanor mumbles into her shoulder.
She sighs, and she doesn’t talk about it. She lets Eleanor hold her, she lets herself calm down with her at her side.
When they wake up tangled together the next day, they don’t speak about it.
“Come on,” he mother insists as her thighs sink deeper into the quicksand. “Kamilah has already gotten out, you can do it too— if not, well, I guess we’ll have to deal with the aftermath of it.”
Tahani whimpers, panic wrapping around her neck, pulling her further and further down, deeper into the quicksand, she could die here, she’ll die here— “Mother!” she cries out, desperate. “Please, mother, please help me!”
“Oh, but Kamilah got out in her own,” she says, “Come on, Tahani. Get out of the quicksand.”
“Mother! Mother, mama! Please— help me! I d-don’t want to die!”
“Oh, I don’t want you to die either, baby. That’s why you have to get out for me. Prove yourself for me, no?”
Tahani wakes up choking on her own spit. She gasps and pants for air, her heart beating out of her chest, heaving a little. She leans down, her head hanging off the bed, and she tries not to feel sick to the pit of her stomach. She’s done, she’s terrified of this all, of what her brain keeps conjuring up about her mother’s dismissal of her as a whole.
But it’s okay— Kamilah was better than her in every conceivable way. Kamilah was superior. It’s understandable that her mother preferred her over Tahani.
Still, she’s shaken to her core, standing up and heading with shaky steps towards Eleanor’s room. She curls herself up into the covers, wraps herself around Eleanor, tries not to cry too loudly into her shirt. She’s so very short— she’s quite easy to pick up, but she can’t distract herself with the thought for too long.
Eleanor presses a hand on her back, and she flinches a little but stays there. “Nightmare?” she asks gently.
She sobs a little. “Yeah.”
“I got you,” Eleanor tells her, “I got you.” She shushes her gently, rubs the small of her back, and soon her sobs turn into small, broken hiccups. Her whole body hurts, but she’s doing okay, she thinks. She’s maybe doing fine. “Can you tell me what it was about? Maybe it’ll help you.”
“I—” Tahani whimpers and closes her eyes, fistfuls of Eleanor’s shirt in her hands. “I dreamt that I was sinking into quicksand and Kamilah had already gotten out and my mother kept insisting that she didn’t want me to die but I had to do it myself, and I know it’s whiny, I had a perfect life—”
Eleanor is very, very still underneath her, but that doesn’t stop her reassuring mumbles.
“Oh, Tahani,” she whispers, a sadness she’s never quite seen on Eleanor’s face before taking a hold of her, “You’re not being whiny. They were… bad. Your parents were awful.”
She shakes a little but nods slowly. Like she’s trying to savor the idea. She’s had a perfect life. She’s had perfectly fine parents. No one is at blame here but herself, for not being as perfect as her sister. But okay, maybe she can think of it in another way. Maybe.
“I’m sorry,” Tahani says again.
“I know,” Eleanor insists, kissing her cheek. “I know, I know. Stay, okay? Hold onto me. Cry all you want.”
A part of Tahani recognizes this— Eleanor’s gone through something of the same flavor. But she ignores it all, she holds onto her, and she buries her face on the crook of her neck.
“It’s all going to be fine,” Eleanor says, “you’re dead, they can’t do all that to you anymore.”
Tahani makes a noise, knowing she’s right, at least to an extent. All she’s got is the memories, the nightmares— those won’t ever go away. But she’s gotten away from them, and they must be in the Bad Place, given everything they’ve done. Even if it was a bit of her fault.
Eleanor presses a kiss to her hair. “Sleep,” she insists, “sleep, Tahani.”
She does. She’s too tired to argue.