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Jackson watched Ellie lose her warmth and light with autumn’s leaves.
She had actually looked forward to the winters in Boston, because she loved when it snowed. It gave her a glimpse from the QZ into another life, before the world went to shit, because even fucking FEDRA had fucking snow days. Drills would get canceled, the world outside her door would go quiet, and she could watch as the storm of billowing white made everything old become new again.
Somewhere between Jackson and Salt Lake City the truth had revealed itself, ugly and bare: winter is death. A fresh blanket of snow is one of nature’s cruelest tricks. Along the way, she’d learned to see through its facade–she knows now that glittering white branches only hide the barren trees underneath, and that a fortress of wintry silence is built to smother the desperate last gasps of life deprived.
The leaves will die and then people will die. The chill brings in the colds, and cyclical sickness takes hold until spring. If the people in Jackson know this, they don’t act like it, seemingly content to continue–as Joel liked to call it–their Hallmark town charade.
The families in Jackson move and think together like an organism, and Ellie wonders if she’s infected it. She’s a bit hit with the kids, funny and smart and armed with a million cool stories. But being liked isn’t the same as fitting in, and they liked her because she was different.
So many of the kids here had never stepped foot outside of Jackson, or at the very least couldn’t remember life before it. They’d heard stories, sure, but they didn’t know what it was like to live outside these wall, As they started to think about Christmas presents and who they want to see at the winter dance; Ellie was thinking about how many bullets she had left in her gun and wondered what the people of Jackson would do if they were desperate.
So as Jackson’s evergreen bystanders were quieted by the season’s building snow, the town turned their heads to their new arrival.
…
Tommy notices the hugs between Ellie and Joel get more drawn out before their assignments.
In fact, there weren’t any hugs at all to begin with. Walking up to the house, he’d hear Joel hollering a goodbye and note it was a good day if she said it back. Tommy had actually been impressed that his big brother had managed to find someone equally allergic to sentimentality. He could see they are a pair content to leave things unsaid - not because they didn’t care, but because they acted with such clarity that to speak of it would feel redundant.
So it strikes Tommy, clear and deep, when he sees Joel having to pry himself carefully away from the death grip Ellie has on his jacket. He recognizes this brand of separation anxiety from their life before and tries not to push the issue with Joel. Instead he spends their quiet walk to the stable recalling what Joel’d told him about the scar on his stomach and the worst fever he ever had.
Dina notices when the new girl stops being the most frenetic entity on any given day in the mess hall. It’s around the time that the summer harvests begin to dwindle and the regular menu becomes beef and venison. The girl who almost ran the town out of bacon starts having staring contests with her soup and shoves bread in her pockets everytime she leaves.
Maria notices how meticulously Ellie layers her clothes and how it has everything and nothing to do with the cold. Her normal fidgeting often transitions to anxious pulling of the ends of her sleeves, trying to keep every part of her protected. It's only during the afternoons that Ellie spends visiting the new baby that she lets her guard down and offers up a bare hand so he can wrap his around her finger.
Joel notices everything.
Joel notices everything because Ellie is the sun. His whole world revolves around her, and if ever her light dims, everyone in her orbit feels its absence. Even ammunition and immunity could only go so far to protect her from the shards of the broken world, and for that he will always be sorry. Memory is a ceaseless beast and he knows it all too well.
Ellie doesn’t notice how long she’s been staring at this damn poster.
Jackson’s 3rd Annual Winter Dance
Community Center
Sunday 7-11pm
It’s written in curved, happy handwriting—a girl’s, if she had to guess. She studies where the swooping letters start and end, and notices a spot someone drew outside the lines and tried to cover it up. There are small drawings embellishing the background, including a crooked snowman that must have been the work of Jackson’s younger artists.
Ellie’s been accused recently of not being able to see the forest through the trees. It turns out every part of her has calcified around her trauma. There are some days when everything is out of focus and she can only tune in to Channel Ellie. Then there are days like this, when the world seems to get so small that all she can see are the brushstrokes.
“You know, they say you’re supposed to stand 6 feet back from art to fully appreciate it.” It’s Cat. A friend of Ellie’s and, in her opinion, probably the coolest girl in Jackson. “ At least that’s what my old art books say. If you can see the brushstrokes, you’re too close.”
She’s standing next to Ellie like she’d been there the whole time–maybe she has.
“Hey.”
Cat tries to take that in stride. “So,” she says, “you going?”
“What?” Ellie asks, trying to orient herself.
She gestures to the poster. “The…Winter Dance?”
“Right,” Ellie says. “I’m not really sure. Sundays are usually when Joel and I get together and–”
“The parents all come too!” Cat provides.
“Oh, nice,” Ellie nods, not interested in coming up with another excuse. Excuses, she’s learned, can get you farther than the truth sometimes, because apparently people aren’t interested in honesty when it hurts.
“It’s been a long winter,” Cats says, changing tactics. “I know it probably seems silly and I know all this must feel weird to you still. But it’s always a good time. If nothing else, it’s a chance to watch everyone embarrass themselves dancing. Though sources are saying Jesse will be attending but will not be seen on the dance floor due to the stick lodged in his ass.”
Ellie laughs, and Cat takes a moment of pride in that. “That does sound enticing.”
“If it’s too much too soon, I get it. Just know that if you do come, I’ll make sure it’s worth it.” She grabs her hand, giving a gentle squeeze. “I promise.” Ellie picks up on the decidedly non-platonic tone to her voice and returns a look of acknowledgment. Message received.
A pang of self-consciousness hits her deep in her stomach when she wonders if the families around them picked up on that too. Then she’s left to watch Cat’s choppy black bob swish away, and Ellie wonders what it would take for her to feel that free.
…
7 pm on Sunday ticks by.
Joel and Ellie are stationed on their usual spots on the couch. They each take note of the time and the chatter outside the window–families passing by as they make their way toward the community center. Without much fanfare, Joel turns on the TV and they hit play on a movie.
Hey kiddo, you plannin’ on stopping by that dance tonight?
I don’t know. Seems like one of those stupid Hallmark nights.
That it is.
They’re starting the first movie in a new series tonight: Alien. Joel has been waiting for this day for months, ever since he found the DVD on a patrol. He couldn’t stop talking about how great it is, how much Ellie would love it, but he insisted that they couldn’t watch it until he’d managed to find a copy of the sequel. It would have been sacrilegious, he’d explained, to see Alien without having Aliens locked and loaded for the next week. Even better than the first movie, in his opinion.
Did you want to go to the dance?
Oh, I mean. I was thinkin of going with Tommy, but he’s on daddy duty tonight, so.
Mhm.
He knew she’d love it. He just knew it. Its got all of her favorite things. First of all, it’s in space (easy win), it has all that sci-fi horror stuff she loves, and it has Ripley in it who Ellie already thinks is the fucking coolest just 30 minutes in. Most of the movie Joel is just watching her watch it. He soaks up the joy of seeing her uncross her arms and start to lean forward further and further, with her eyes glued to the screen.
If you want me to go with you, I’ll–
No, no. That’s alright, Ellie. I was only trying to say I’d go with you if you needed someone to join. Just thought I’d offer, if you want.
Cool, yeah. I’ll let you know.
When the movie ends, Ellie shakes her head in awe. “Masterpiece,” she declares. “Fucking masterpiece.” She’s recounting all her favorite moments while the credits roll and it's the most animated Joel has seen her all day. “The part
“So,” he says. “Same time next week?”
“Hell yeah.”
When the TV clicks off, they lapse back into a comfortable quiet that’s broken by the insistent ticking of a clock on the wall.
9:12 pm
“God,” Ellie says. “Can you believe that stupid dance is going on for another two hours?”
…
They’re laughing the whole way down the block, run-walking through the bitter cold like two kids out past curfew.
“What genius decided to have a dance in March instead of waiting one more month until spring?!”
“Should’a put you in charge,” Joel says.
“That’s what I’m saying!” She says, throwing up her hands.
Joel pulls open the door, heavy against the snow and wind: “After you.”
Maybe Hallmark needs to be added to the Sunday movie night rotation, Ellie decides, because it feels like she’s stepped into another world. There’s nothing especially different–it’s the same crowd, the same lights strung up on the ceiling, the same smell of smoke and whiskey. But it feels like there’s just a bit of magic in the air tonight.
They only manage a couple steps through the door before they’re tripping over a couple kids who are making a plan of attack to ambush an unsuspecting parent.
“Isn’t it past bedtime for those shitheads?” Joel gives her a quick jab to the ribs: watch it. Because apparently kids can learn all about what happens to the human body when it meets a fungal-zombie disease, but they draw the line at “shit.”
“Ellie!” Cat, waving her over to the food and drinks.
Before Joel even gets eyes on her, Ellie is already darting off toward her friend. “I’ll be here if you need me!” he pipes up, and she throws back a quick salute of acknowledgement before leaving him to attempt small talk with the few familiar faces nearby. He hasn’t exactly made friends in Jackson, but he hasn’t made any enemies either—and that in itself feels like a victory.
While he’s exchanging pleasantries, Joel spots Maria and gives her a smile across the room to where she seems to be working a crowd. She wears a lot of hats in Jackson—a leader, mother, protector, friend—but tonight it looks like she just gets to be Maria. He’s happy for her.
Meanwhile, he always keeps one eye on Ellie in case she needs him. But she seems just fine leaned up against that friend of hers.
“I was starting to think you wouldn’t show,” Cat is saying.
“No way I’d miss the main event,” Ellie says, trying on a smile. It seems Cat has already tapped into the centerpiece of the table: hot chocolate. A delight at any time, but a delicacy during this time.
“Oh, it’s good. Very good,” she confirms. Not that it’s difficult to beat the alternative–the shit coffee that makes its way around after travelers pass through. “But it’s even better with a little spice in the mix.”
Cat is all smiles as she nudges up against Ellie’s shoulder. She pushed her cup out toward Ellie, daring her to take a swig. Of course, she does.
Fireball.
Nice.
“How the fuck did you manage to pull that off?” Ellie asks, impressed.
“It was my mom’s idea,” Cat announces with a proud shrug.
“Jesus, Joel would never,” she says. Not that he was particularly governable, but Jackson made him want to be more than Ellie’s favorite enabler.
Cat gestures to the open floor, where even some of Jackson’s more buttoned-up members seem to be spinning with spirits. “Not like they’ll notice. Or care.” It’s true.
That was one of the weird things about Jackson–compared to Ellie’s life before, somehow there were both way less and way more rules here. Everyone has their assignments but people miss them sometimes when something important is going on. Kids aren’t supposed to drink but lots of the parents let them anyway. Nothing like FEDRA’s militant disregard for fun.
But then there are all of these other rules here that no one tells you about that somehow you’re still supposed to know. Like, when you eat at a table you should ask someone to pass you the food you want instead of getting it yourself, which seems pretty fucking weird because you’re really asking them to do work for you, but whatever.
Sometimes it’s even hard to tell what’s a Jackson thing and what’s a Joel and Tommy Texas-y thing. Ellie’s never been farther south than Salt Lake City, but watching those brothers interact has painted quite a picture of what people refer to as their “southern manners.”
Just thinking of Joel reminds her he’s not beside her and she cans the room to find him.
Right on cue, she watches him politely decline an invitation to the dance from a woman who appears charmed and blushing. She tries to make out who it is–maybe that single mom who helps run the greenhouses?–and tries not to care.
Joel’s eyes meet hers, and she blinks away immediately, hoping he didn’t notice her stare.
“So, how are those new space books you got?” Cat pulls her back into their conversation, trying to keep a good thing going. She also has a knack for easing tension that Ellie finds herself particularly grateful for right now. “You know, the ones you stole from the library?”
“First,” Ellie says, eager to make her point, “it is not stealing if we collectively own them. And they’re very cool, very spacey. I’m learning lots about lunar formation theory, planet merging, all that fun stuff. How about you–how’s your artsy stuff going? Read any shitty new poetry lately?”
She passes back the cup of spiked drink, urging the banter on.
“Nope,” she answers, popping the P. “But I have been reading some really good poetry. Which, by the way, I really do think you’d like it if you gave it a try.”
“Uh huh,” Ellie says, trying her best to humor her.
“Okay, Emily Dickinson? 19th Century badass. She had all these observations about love and death and an interesting perspective on science and belief and and and–”she pauses for a lean-in toward Ellie. ”She was a certified girl-kisser.” Boom.
“I’m starting to get the appeal,” Ellie teases. “But here’s my thing: are there any pictures?”
Cat looks at her, dead serious. “I can make there be pictures.”
“If you drew me some pretty pictures to go along with it, I’d consider it.”
“Deal.”
Ellie loves how easy everything is with Cat. Not just easier but better. And maybe it’s the lights or the drink, but right now, Cat seems to have a summer sky twinkling in her eyes that makes Jackson feel a whole lot warmer.
The moment is interrupted with a crash into the back of Ellie’s legs that sends her tumbling toward the floor. There’s a moment of shock between her and Cat, who barely has time to process Ellie falling before she hears laughing—kids scrambling over Ellie, squealing with delight. “GAHH! We got you!” We got Ellie!” Before Cat has the chance to tell them off, they’re already gone to find their next playmate.
“Goddamn, those kids are menaces tonight, Should have had someone take one for the team and take babysitting duties,” Cat says, turning to offer Ellie a hand up.
But Ellie doesn’t take it. She doesn’t even look at it. It’s like she’s been frozen in time, still laying there on the ground with her eyes glazed over. Just in that split second, Cat knows something is horribly wrong; it's utterly unnatural to see Ellie Williams so still.
“Ellie—hey,” she tries gently. “You ok?” She kneels down cautiously, fumbling her way through the motion. Is this what a panic attack looks like? Should she rub her back? Hold her hand? Will touching make everything worse? Cat feels out of place suddenly. “Do you want me to get Joel?”
“‘Scuse me.” She hears his Texan accent before she sees him. Of course, with his watchful eye and sixth sense for trouble, he’s already on his way over. He pushes his way through a few buzzing onlookers, trying to dispel the small crowd.“She’ll be fine, just give her some space.”
He turns to Cat, direct: “Get her some water, please? Cold, with ice.” His tone is significant but not unkind, and she’s grateful to have marching orders that make her feel useful.
Joel acts with urgency but meets the situation with a calm that’s surprising to its witnesses. Folks in Jackson have grown accustomed to seeing him be the overprotective guardian who’s ready to punch his way through anything or anyone who touches Ellie. But they haven’t been privy to these moments, the countless times the two of them have had to pry each other back from the merciless grip of the past.
He slips into this role with practiced ease, having been through this with her before. He knows what this is, and what she needs. When things are bad with Ellie, she either hoes real loud or real quiet. Sometimes she was back in Silver Lake and sometimes she was nowhere at all.
Today’s a quiet day.
“Ellie, it’s me,” he tells her. “It’s Joel. You’re with me in Jackson. You’re ok.” He repeats it until he believes it and starts to see the words sink in with her; until he feels her relax under his hand that’s on her back. “We’re gonna sit you up now, ok?”
She nods, pliant as he brings them to a few chairs nearby.
“Here, Mr. Miller!” Cat returns with a glass of water and worry still written all over her face.
“Thank you, sweetheart,” Joel says, accepting the glass. “I’ll look after her now. She’ll be alright, just got spooked is all.” He hopes the words are reassuring to her, hopes she understands. Ellie just needs space and time.
Joel takes Ellie’s hand in his and wraps it around the cup of water. He keeps his hand over hers, pressing down gently so she can feel the chill of the glass.
After the first time Tommy and Maria saw an episode like this, Maria had pulled him aside to give him some advice: temperature shock. She said when things got floaty for Ellie, she needed something ground her. Something hot or cold, she explained, could help shock her system back to the here and now.
He sees her eyes start to flicker and senses that she's on her way back down. “You with me, Ellie?”
She nods, awareness quickly turning to embarrassment as she assesses the scene around them. The scene she’s caused. Then she’s embarrassed by her own embarrassment because she shouldn’t feel bad for this, for something she can’t help. Joel has told her that so many times. But she can’t help herself and settles in shame anyway.
“I want to go home,” she says softly.
They make their way through the room, most of the crowd having returned to their fun. Cat catches Ellie’s eye and gives her a tiny wave and an apology in her eyes.
…
Joel is ready to give her space, but instead he’s giving her one of his t-shirts.
Not long after Salt Lake City, Ellie had walked intently into their living room and asked if she could move into the garage out back. If Joel had learned anything about Ellie, it was that she never cared to wait for his permission. No, he’d decided, this was not a request for approval but a courtesy announcement: she would be moving into the garage and he could either make her life easier or harder for that. Despite himself, he’d made it easier.
He and Tommy’d worked to make it livable, working together just like they’d used to. All these months later, it’s still bare bones, with the weather and the baby and everything stopping up the work. But it was there, and it was hers. It wasn’t unusual for her to come over and fall asleep on the couch while Joel plucked away at his guitar, but now those nights felt special. They were special because they were her choice.
Tonight, Ellie is a few paces ahead of Joel in the snow when she chooses to take the turn toward their porch–his porch–and walk through the front door like this was still their routine. He follows her inside and does his best not to fuck the whole thing up.
…
“Just for you,” Joel says, offering her a shirt. She recognizes one of her proudest finds from their road trip: an oversized tee with tacky, fading letters that announce the World’s Best Grandpa!
“Well look at you getting all sentimental,” she says, appreciating the effort.
“Watch it.” Joel points an accusatory finger at her, all bark and no bite. “Or you’ll see the world’s worst grandpa come out.”
“Scary.” Her tone says otherwise.
She’s lucky she’s still recovering from a panic attack, or maybe Joel would try getting back at her. Maybe.
“On that note, I’ll leave you to it.”
He leaves her to change, and the tension leaves Ellie with every piece of clothing she sheds; each is a reminder of a part of her that's unknowable to everyone in this town except for Joel. She can take off her jacket because she’s in a house that protects her from the cold. She can unbutton her shirt because with Joel, she’s safe. She can slip on his t-shirt because she doesn’t have to hide the scar on her arm or the invisible ones that run through her like a current.
Waiting for Joel, she admires how the house has come alive since he moved in.
It occurs to her that even this sparse décor seems to capture him perfectly. It’s tidy and functional, walls dripping with warmth and nostalgia. There’s a few framed landscapes and a growing collection of books. A bulletin board holds a hand-written schedule of assignments for the month next to one of Ellie’s own assignments–an apology letter to a classmate.
Dear Lucas,
I am sorry that you are mad that I spit on you. I didn't mean to hurt your feelings, I just wanted to embarrass you express my feeling that I did not appreciate your joke. It was mean and it was not funny. If your joke is mean it should at least be fucking funny. It was not fucking funny or even regular funny.
It was her first draft, rejected for being too “insincere” which Ellie thought was really fucking dumb. She meant every word.
In the corner of the room, Joel's guitar is leaned up against his growing collection of records–the largest in Jackson, or so he says. He and Tommy went on another one of their trips to “secure the perimeter” and came back with half a music store tacked onto their saddles.
When Joel comes back, Ellie has stretched out on the couch, tired but trying not to be.
“Scooch,” he says, trying to make a spot for himself. Ellie grumbles—she had just gotten comfortable—but allows him to settle on the end of the couch with her head in his lap.
“You know who you remind me of?” He starts running his fingers through her hair, just the way she likes. “There was this dog Sarah and I used to have, Mimi–”
“Mimi?” Ellie says. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Her question is genuine. She can’t tell if this is another piece of Joel Lore or a dumb bit in the works.
“The name was…not my idea. Neither was the dog. She was one of those small, white ones—with the crusty eyes, ya know? Just this tiny little thing, but with the personality of…I don’t know, a bigger thing.”
Ellie laughs at the idea, trying to picture Joel telling off his tiny terror. “You’re telling me you had one of those rabid little dogs?”
“Like I said–not my idea. Tommy thought it’d help Sarah since she didn’t have any siblings and her mom wasn’t in the picture. Anyway, she couldn’t have been more than 10 pounds. But somehow she always found a way to take up the whole. damn. bed.” He pokes at her shoulder on the last words for emphasis.
“And I’m sure it was all Tommy’s idea to let her in your bed every night,” she teases.
“You know, I’m happy to take the fall for that one. It wasn’t my plan to adopt her but once we did, she was part of the family,” he explains.
She turns her head to look at him. “And family sleeps in the bed?”
“Or the couch,” he says, rubbing her shoulder. Ellie lets herself relax back into him again.
“Joel, I’m sorry about tonight.”
He looks down at her, suddenly serious. “You have nothing to be sorry for, babygirl.”
She lets that word sit in the air, desperate to hang onto it as long as she can.
“So you’re not mad at me for ending the night before you got to dance with Esther?” Ellie watches him from the corner of her eye, trying to see how the comment goes over with him.
Joel just laughs off the suggestion. “I’ve got my best girl right here. Besides, I think my best dancing days are behind me. Scarred enough folks for a lifetime already at my high school prom.”
“Hm.” Ellie considers that. “I didn’t know they had those in Texas.”
“Prom?”
“Schools.”
This fucking kid.
“You’re gonna pay for that one.”
Ellie giggles—that delightful, little-girl laugh that he hopes she’ll never grow out of. “Am I?”
“I’m serious. You hurt your old man’s feelings, there’s gonna be some serious reparations.”
“Sureee.”
“And lucky for you, I know the perfect way for you to make it up to me.” Ellie turns to look at him, suspicious. He’s got a shit-eating grin on his face when he sits her up and walks into the next room, and that can never be good.
“It better not be another guitar lesson,” she shouts, holding up her hands. “My fingers are still bleeding from last week!”
“Not a guitar lesson!” he pipes up from across the room. “But it is another round of musical education.” He puts a record on and closes his eyes to hear the first strums of guitar. It sends him right to his happy place, every damn time.
“Sunshine on my Shoulders. John Denver, 1971,” he says, making his way back over to Ellie. “Originally a B-side track that ended up topping the charts three years later in 1974.”
He offers out a hand to Ellie, who just stares. “May I?”
“You’re kidding.”
“One dance,” he promises. “Then I’ll leave you be.” Ellie shakes her head and takes his hand anyway.
“Just so you know, this is the closest you’ll get to seeing me in a dress,” she says, gesturing to the way his t-shirt falls down to her knees.
“Makes no difference to me,” he tells her. Because he means it and because he’s the best.
He pulls her closer and as much as she tries to avoid it, Ellie can already feel the embarrassment setting in. “Let the record also show: I have no idea what I’m doing. So you should feel very bad when I trip and fall.”
“I won’t let you,” he says. He guides one of her hands into place on his side, and holds the other in his own, leading them into a gentle sway. “Now you just follow my lead, kiddo.”
He takes a step forward, pushing her a step back. Then they’re swaying again to the gentle beat of the music while John goes on crooning his lullaby. Joel steps again, turning them in a new direction in a move that takes Ellie by surprise. They both giggle when she steps on his toes but quickly slip back into a steady groove, learning to read each other’s movements.
Ellie starts to understand that he’s turning them slowly, changing directions until they each see every corner of the room. She takes the chance to lay her head against his chest and commits the feeling to memory, knowing that she’ll return to this moment forever. Joel presses a kiss into her forehead overwhelmed with gratitude for the generosity and sincerity of it all.
Outside their window, winter takes its last breaths, and the guitar continues strumming along.
If I had a tale that I could tell you
I'd tell a tale sure to make you smile
If I had a wish that I could wish for you
I'd make a wish for sunshine for all the while
Sunshine on my shoulders makes me happy
Sunshine in my eyes can make me cry
Sunshine on the water looks so lovely
Sunshine almost always makes me high