She says, “New Year’s Eve is tomorrow! It will be a new year where you don’t have to worry about any of the things you worry about now!”
The two women walk arm in arm, have walked arm in arm together since leaving the University library. They walk the path to the dorms. The streetlamps have been lit, and the night is warm, so unusually warm for this time of year that, despite the snow on the ground, their uniforms, a dark wool skirt and matching jacket, are enough to keep out the cold. Well, most of the cold—Eya still wears a shawl.
Ada continues speaking. She says, “Yesterday you were worried about us getting another storm, but today’s weather was beautiful. Today you were worried about being able to complete your paper, but we got that done, right? Right? You worry too much, and I don’t want you to. You’ll only make yourself sick again.”
They near Birch Dorm, the dorm where Eya lives, and stop, standing under the old, twisted tree that grows out of the dorm’s white walls, bowering its entrance and even a part of the roof. Eya says goodnight and turns to go, but Ada grabs her hand.
“Wait,” Ada says, “I know you said you aren’t going to come and celebrate New Year’s with us, but please reconsider. The party will be fun.” When Eya says she will come if she feels well enough, Ada adds, “No, we want you there. We—I mean, I would like it if you came. You need to get out--”
“Goodnight Ada,” Eya says with such force and finality that any further attempts at discussion would be pointless.
Ada stammers, “Well—good—goodnight, Eya.”
They kiss. Ada tentatively kisses Eya on the cheek and Eya kisses her back; if there is one thing Ada could be said to worry about, it would be the two of them parting on bad terms without a proper goodbye.
Ada waits until Eya unlocks the door and goes inside.
Once inside, Eya climbs the stairs to her room. She shares a small room with two other women, but neither are here right now. One is spending New Year’s with her family and Eya assumes the other is with her boyfriend, a student at the men’s university across town. Eya does not light a lamp. The moonlight is bright enough to see by, and while Eya knows she should read or study, she does not want to— she only wants to go to bed.
Once in bed, in her warm, soft bed, Eya only muses on how much she does not want to leave it. Imagines what it’s like to not have to get up and do the ceiling high stacks of homework she has to make up. Wonders what it would be like if everyone wasn’t so demanding. No more Eya do this, Eya do that, Eya come here, Eya go there, Eya don’t worry, you don’t know what you’re talking about—of course, she is not going to their New Year’s party. She is tired. Oh, to go to sleep and never wake up.
Tomorrow she will celebrate the new year alone; she will have tea and the last slice of cake her mother sent her and listen to the King’s New Year speech on the radio.
His office is white, so white. Everything is white like death.
She sticks out her tongue, widens her eyes, stands up to touch her toes, sits down to kick her knees, and breathes in and out.
The doctor says her name, her full name, not the nickname she goes by in this country, and that she is sick. He says the name of the disease and explains, “Your extreme fatigue is because your bones are slowly turning to gold. As gold, your bones are becoming denser and heavier making it more difficult for you to move your body. Therefore, I recommend against swimming—the weight will only cause you to drown.”
This explains everything. Her difficulty breathing is because the gold is pressing down on her lungs and other internal organs.
“Precisely,” the doctor says, “and there are other symptoms, too…”
She is glad. She knows that regardless of what she thinks or feels, no one will believe you are sick or in pain unless a doctor on high waives his scepter and decrees it so, but now that she has a diagnosis, she will be believed.
She also knows that--to others--a diagnosis without a cure is worthless.
She is near her grandparent’s house. She is in the woods, passing under tall trees that tangle overhead like netting, ready to ensnare her. But she will not be caught. She is the one on the hunt, following tracks in the dirt. They are deer tracks from one of the tiny, spotted deer that live in these woods.
She is so close, so close to the cure, but not there yet.
As Eya lays awake, the details of her dream slip away like smoke. How disappointing. She wonders how the hunt would have went—she feels it would have ended well. All she remembers of her last dream is having a rash that some magical camphor oil couldn’t cure. That dream had not ended well.
Sunrise will be soon; she might as well get up. Eya washes her face and plaits her long, dark hair as she looks out the window.
She sees Ada walking the path to Birch Dorm. Here. Ada is coming here.
Ada turns as if she is going towards the front door but stops and pulls a package out of her coat. She places it in the mailbox.
The package is small and wrapped in brown paper, clearly a present. The mailbox is for all of Birch Dorm’s residents, but there is only one person Ada would be leaving a New Year’s gift for.
Ada looks up toward Eya’s window. They see each other, and Ada waves, waving her arm high above her head. When Eya does nothing, not wanting Ada to see it as an invitation to visit, not wanting to see anyone right now, Ada waves both arms above her head.
For a moment, Eya does nothing. Finally, she waves back.
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Eya and Ada (1)
Date: 2021-03-29 06:38 pm (UTC)She says, “New Year’s Eve is tomorrow! It will be a new year where you don’t have to worry about any of the things you worry about now!”
The two women walk arm in arm, have walked arm in arm together since leaving the University library. They walk the path to the dorms. The streetlamps have been lit, and the night is warm, so unusually warm for this time of year that, despite the snow on the ground, their uniforms, a dark wool skirt and matching jacket, are enough to keep out the cold. Well, most of the cold—Eya still wears a shawl.
Ada continues speaking. She says, “Yesterday you were worried about us getting another storm, but today’s weather was beautiful. Today you were worried about being able to complete your paper, but we got that done, right? Right? You worry too much, and I don’t want you to. You’ll only make yourself sick again.”
They near Birch Dorm, the dorm where Eya lives, and stop, standing under the old, twisted tree that grows out of the dorm’s white walls, bowering its entrance and even a part of the roof. Eya says goodnight and turns to go, but Ada grabs her hand.
“Wait,” Ada says, “I know you said you aren’t going to come and celebrate New Year’s with us, but please reconsider. The party will be fun.” When Eya says she will come if she feels well enough, Ada adds, “No, we want you there. We—I mean, I would like it if you came. You need to get out--”
“Goodnight Ada,” Eya says with such force and finality that any further attempts at discussion would be pointless.
Ada stammers, “Well—good—goodnight, Eya.”
They kiss. Ada tentatively kisses Eya on the cheek and Eya kisses her back; if there is one thing Ada could be said to worry about, it would be the two of them parting on bad terms without a proper goodbye.
Ada waits until Eya unlocks the door and goes inside.
Re: Eya and Ada (2)
Date: 2021-03-29 06:41 pm (UTC)Once in bed, in her warm, soft bed, Eya only muses on how much she does not want to leave it. Imagines what it’s like to not have to get up and do the ceiling high stacks of homework she has to make up. Wonders what it would be like if everyone wasn’t so demanding. No more Eya do this, Eya do that, Eya come here, Eya go there, Eya don’t worry, you don’t know what you’re talking about—of course, she is not going to their New Year’s party. She is tired. Oh, to go to sleep and never wake up.
Tomorrow she will celebrate the new year alone; she will have tea and the last slice of cake her mother sent her and listen to the King’s New Year speech on the radio.
Re: Eya and Ada (3)
Date: 2021-03-29 06:45 pm (UTC)His office is white, so white. Everything is white like death.
She sticks out her tongue, widens her eyes, stands up to touch her toes, sits down to kick her knees, and breathes in and out.
The doctor says her name, her full name, not the nickname she goes by in this country, and that she is sick. He says the name of the disease and explains, “Your extreme fatigue is because your bones are slowly turning to gold. As gold, your bones are becoming denser and heavier making it more difficult for you to move your body. Therefore, I recommend against swimming—the weight will only cause you to drown.”
This explains everything. Her difficulty breathing is because the gold is pressing down on her lungs and other internal organs.
“Precisely,” the doctor says, “and there are other symptoms, too…”
She is glad. She knows that regardless of what she thinks or feels, no one will believe you are sick or in pain unless a doctor on high waives his scepter and decrees it so, but now that she has a diagnosis, she will be believed.
She also knows that--to others--a diagnosis without a cure is worthless.
She is near her grandparent’s house. She is in the woods, passing under tall trees that tangle overhead like netting, ready to ensnare her. But she will not be caught. She is the one on the hunt, following tracks in the dirt. They are deer tracks from one of the tiny, spotted deer that live in these woods.
She is so close, so close to the cure, but not there yet.
Oh, if only she wasn’t alone.
If only.
She is so close.
She wakes up.
Re: Eya and Ada (4)
Date: 2021-03-29 06:49 pm (UTC)Sunrise will be soon; she might as well get up. Eya washes her face and plaits her long, dark hair as she looks out the window.
She sees Ada walking the path to Birch Dorm. Here. Ada is coming here.
Ada turns as if she is going towards the front door but stops and pulls a package out of her coat. She places it in the mailbox.
Re: Eya and Ada (5)
Date: 2021-03-29 07:05 pm (UTC)Ada looks up toward Eya’s window. They see each other, and Ada waves, waving her arm high above her head. When Eya does nothing, not wanting Ada to see it as an invitation to visit, not wanting to see anyone right now, Ada waves both arms above her head.
For a moment, Eya does nothing. Finally, she waves back.
Ada smiles and walks away.