Chapter Text
~2 weeks~
On November 27th, Thanksgiving leftovers are being prepared for dinner. Turkey is in the oven and potatoes on the stove, a frazzled Heather tending to all of it, running back and forth and wishing she had an extra pair of hands, or perhaps three extra hands- being an octopus suddenly does not look that bad. Veronica, absolutely beat from a busy day at the hospital yesterday and a chaotic Thanksgiving the day before, is upstairs sleeping, unaware of the clattering chaos going on down below. Heather's trying to be a good girlfriend and cook for her. It's not going well. The turkey is burning, sending tendrils of bitter herb-laced smoke through the air. The smoke alarm goes off. So much for not waking up Veronica.
Also on November 27th, later in the day, there's a heap of cards on the table to be written and mailed. Heather's in charge of the writing on the inside of the card. Veronica needs to sign her name, seal it, and write down the address. They sit across from each other, both holding pens they stole from one another, cards in green and white envelopes flashing across the table. They meet each other's eyes and smile. Veronica drops the address book. Heather's pen explodes, sending black ink flying. 'We'll call it modern art,' Heather suggests, and they both laugh as Veronica emerges from the floor with an onyx smudge on her nose.
~1 week~
On December 4th, decorations are going up. The snow outside falls like cotton, sticking to the windows and piling up in driveways, providing a soft place to land in case the light installation goes haywire. The ladder is about the temperature of a freezer- not so fun to grab- but the lights shine with vibrant colors in the darkness, reflecting off misshapen snowflakes, casting red and white sparkles as far as the eye can see. You're doing great, baby! Veronica flashes a thumbs up, and Heather grins, winding the last string around the chimney and letting go, letting the snow take her and fall into her eyes, and Veronica joins her, wrapping her in a hug and kissing her in the dark, the lights shining above and around them.
Neither of them have the slightest idea of the darkness that awaits them.
On December 5th, stroke of midnight, they're still not in bed. The firelight of a candle shines in Heather's eyes as she looks through the flame at her girlfriend. They stand in the open air letting the darkness take them. It feels like they have their own world. It feels like they can do anything. Veronica sets her candle down into a well in the snow. Fire and ice reflect off of each other, sending ghostly shadows and haunting flickers of light dancing around each other. Orange and white. Red and blue. Heather grins and does the same. They stand in silence. Watching.
~3 days~
On December 8th, cookie recipes are being tested. The mixer whirs in the corner as a flour-covered Veronica feeds it eggs, one by one this time- they learned their lesson. The sugarsweet scent of home comes from the oven. They're laughing, red and blue and green frosting decorating the cookies and themselves, sugar sprinkles glistening from Veronica's dark hair and a smear of chocolate on Heather's smiling cheek. Really and truly laughing together for the last time.
The oven is turned off by the end of the day and cookies are covering every viable surface. There's no way they'll be able to eat all of them by the end of the month. 'I'm gonna be up to my neck in cookies until I die,' Veronica jokes, and Heather rolls her eyes and takes a bite of the one in her hand, a declaration of war. Chaos ensues. Frosting winds up in places where frosting should not go. Crumbs are scattered across gray granite counters. They wind up going together to the shower, tangled in each other as the water washes sugar and endearments down the drain.
~1 day~
On December 10th, a chain of paper hangs from the ceiling, counting down the 15 days until Christmas. Red and green construction paper. Tomorrow a red link will be cut off. The chain will be left to 14. But the day after that, no ring will be cut, no chocolate will be eaten, no cookies will be baked. The chain will stay at 14. The chain will stay at 14 until someone can finally get the strength to wake up and walk downstairs and get the scissors and take it down. Which means it will probably be staying at 14 for a while. A simple act to most people, but when your life's been shattered, moving a finger feels like moving the world.
It's not funny, looking back, but the way Heather wrapped the links around her neck, pretending it was a colorful noose, sent them into peals of laughter. 'Don't do that,' Veronica would chide, but it was empty, the command overruled by the smile in her eyes. 'It's not funny,' Heather would admit, but her fingers clutching the table to keep her from falling say otherwise.
She lets go and the paper chain begins to swing in lopsided circles, 15 rings interlocked.
~12 hours~
On December 11th, presents are being bought. Veronica and Heather got up early, brushing each other's hair and doing each other's mascara, ready for a day of shopping. Veronica's going all the way up to the Bridgeport Mall, while Heather's taking a slightly easier approach, simply heading over to the town center. They've planned to reunite at an Italian restaurant for dinner. But plans don't always work out. Sometimes something gets in the way. Sometimes someone does.
'I'll see you soon,' Heather promises, kissing Veronica on the nose. 'Love you.'
'Love you too,' Veronica replies. 'Hurry back. I'll be waiting for you.'
'I know you will.' Heather walks next to Veronica's car up until the intersection, and she waves like an idiot until it's out of sight. 'See you in a few hours!'
~4 hours~
Also on December 11th, Veronica gets back into her car, laden with bags and boxes of gifts. A feeling of excitement fills the air, all the chatter and hustle and bustle providing backup for the promise of home, promise of a hug and a kiss and a ribbon untied. 14 days. In 14 days, she and Heather will sit by the fire or around the tree, sharing a cinnamon roll and listening to music, and their hands will be intertwined, fingers tracing circles on the other's hand. It'll be magical. That's the promise she makes to herself: this year, Christmas will be like no other.
She drives for just a few miles until she's at the restaurant, heads inside, calls her girlfriend (who doesn't answer), and sits down to wait. Perched on the bench, she stares out the window at the cars coming into the parking lot, looking for the sun shining off Heather's blue car.
~30 minutes~
They're back home by around 1 PM and spend the rest of the day cuddling on the couch, Heather holding Veronica with her legs around her waist. Time seems to slow down. They both can see that it's a good day. Most December days have been. But what they don't know is that it's the last one.
At 8:21 on December 11th, Heather declares she's going out. Just for a little bit, she won't be long. She needs to pick up a present. She'll get ice cream on the way back; which kind does Veronica want? She grabs her phone and her keys and gets in her car. An owl cries from up above. A dog howls. Heather turns on the radio. Veronica watches the car disappear into the dark, already feeling her absence.
The last good day forever.
~5 minutes~
At 8:46 on December 11th, the ice cream is melting. There's no one else on the road, just Heather in her blue car. Speeding up can't hurt. Veronica's waiting. She hits the gas. But time is the hardest thing to race. Yes, Veronica's waiting. She'll be waiting for longer than either of them imagined.
She glances behind her and to both sides before advancing at the intersection. So it's a red light. Who cares? Nobody's around to see or get hurt. Everyone runs a red light once in a while. It's like a rite of passage. She only takes a few seconds to wonder why nobody else is on the road. It's not that late.
~0:00~
A black car appears out of nowhere, rocketing towards Heather's car from the left. There's not enough time to slam on the brakes. Her phone goes flying out of her hand.
The light turns green.
~-5 minutes~
The traffic light has gone through three cycles by the time another car shows up. The blue car sits on its back like a broken turtle. The black car and its driver are nowhere to be seen. It's cruel mystery, really. No one will ever know.
The driver of the little Ford doesn't pause to look. She doesn't want to meddle in some addict's accident. Let someone else clean up the wreckage; she has a boyfriend to go back to. Besides, whoever's in the car- if there's anyone, which is doubtful- is probably lowest-class scum who no one will miss. Probably a good thing that they're dead. The universe taking its pay.
~-30 minutes~
Veronica can't help but wonder if Heather's okay. She shoots an anxious glance at the phone. Maybe she'll call and check. But Heather's probably fine. Just stuck in traffic or stuck in a line. Maybe the present's taking longer to get than expected. Maybe the present is far away.
The paper chain swings from side to side, 14 rings scraping against each other.
~-4 hours~
Veronica finally gets around to calling Heather, and then calling 911. But it's too late. It's been too late for 3 hours and 58 minutes. Heather Chandler is declared dead. And the world stops, along with Veronica's heart.
Why did she wait? She could have stopped this, prevented the loss. How could she think it was all okay? How could she have let Heather go alone? I should have gone with her. I should have been there. I could have held her hand.
The realization hits her that she'll never hold her girlfriend's hand again.
~-12 hours~
Veronica hasn't gotten up from the couch. She doubts she ever will.
Why did you leave me?
The sky goes through its usual cycle. Dark to dawn, dawn to day. Clouds dance before the sun and the moon. Starless night. Cloudy morning. Veronica's eyes aren't open to notice. For all she knows, a year has passed. It certainly feels that way. Every minute without Heather is a minute that sends another nail through her skin, another shriek through her mind.
~-24 hours~
Now that Heather's gone, Veronica's demons are coming back. And they're back with a vengeance. She knows how to escape them. She knows how to escape everything.
I'm coming, baby doll.
A silver knife sits on the windowsill. It's a really pretty blade, actually. The moonlight shines off the metal through a break in the clouds. A few drops of water glare back.
The paper chain blows in the gentle breeze from the AC, 14 rings dancing in the air.
~-3 days~
Is it possible for a house to miss its inhabitants? There are no songs being sung. No food being cooked or treats being baked. No lights are on. The house is dark and still.
The neighbors don't seem to care. None of them come to visit. Very few of them even know. How would they? Now Veronica's gone too.
The paper chain sits still at 14.
~-1 week~
Veronica is given permission to return home. What the hospital people don't understand, though, is that Heather was her home. Returning is what she tried to do. No one understands. Least of all Veronica.
'I did my best,' she whispers to herself, and the sound of her own voice scares her.
~Christmas~
There's no tree or stockings to be seen. No cinnamon rolls to share. No one to share them with.
Her movements are slow, languid. Like she's forgotten how to move. Her breathing is as slow as her heartbeat. Everything feels trapped by stone or stuck in quicksand. She doesn't have the energy to turn lights on, so the house is dark. She doesn't have the energy to open presents, though she found the secret stash Heather had gotten for her. She doesn't feel the need to do much of anything.
In all the ways that count, Christmas is cancelled. She makes her way to her own stocking, noticing a lump in the toe. She doesn't think about what she's doing, just pulls the gift out out. Her breath catches in her throat as she turns the unwrapped present around and around with ice-cold fingers.
Veronica opens a little black box and nearly drops it. A single tear falls onto the diamond that stares back at her.