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Marcie awoke in a warm nest of blankets that was so cozy she considered drifting back to sleep. However, her bladder was full enough that was an unwise idea. Unfortunately, outside of her blanket burrito the bed was cold, which meant she was alone in it. With a bit of a struggle she eventually got up, made a pit stop in the bathroom, then shuffled downstairs in search of her erstwhile bunkmate.
Spying Velma at the kitchen peninsula made a smile tug at Marcie’s lips, even if she was annoyed that she hadn’t stayed in bed. At least she was still in the house? Velma had been known to hit the road before dawn and without leaving a note. Marcie should focus on being happy she was still here because Velma’s presence always made things better.
She hit the creaky floorboard entering the kitchen and Velma’s head jerked up from her phone. A wide grin spread across her face.
“Hey, good morning, sleepyhead,” Velma greeted her.
“I should be saying that to you,” Marcie grumbled, padding into the kitchen proper.
“Couldn’t sleep last night. Thought it would be better for me to prowl ‘round down here instead of waking you up,” Velma said, even though Marcie had repeatedly expressed wanting to be there for Velma when she had her nightmares. Velma was always the one who sought solitude. “I made coffee.”
“Thanks.” Marcie passed Velma in favor of the pot. She poured herself a mug full and took a sip of it black before adding her preferred amount of cream. A touch of bitter was the best way to wake up. The cream simply made the coffee palatable.
Strong arms encircled her waist and she felt the brush of lips at the base of her neck. She savored the heat—warm mug in her hands, near scalding liquid sliding down her esophagus, and the firm body pressed against her. It was enough to chase away the chill that had cloaked her since she had risen. Marcie savored the moment, though she wished she could hear Velma’s heartbeat as well as her breath.
“Now that you’re up,” Velma began.
Marcie felt her stomach drop and she twisted around, breaking her hold. “You’re leaving?” It wasn’t meant to be an accusation, but it must have come off as one.
“Well, I’m going out,” Velma huffed, crossing her arms and stepping back. She turned her head so that she was looking out the window instead of at Marcie. “Haven’t been to a farmer’s market in ages. It’s still running, isn’t it?”
“Oh yeah, their season goes through Halloween,” Marcie said, deflating in relief. She wasn’t leaving-leaving, which would have been a sore disappointment. Velma had been there when Marcie got home from work Thursday, but from the state of their washer and dryer she hadn’t had time to finish settling in. Leaving Saturday morning would have felt like a cruel joke.
“I would have headed over sooner, but I didn’t know if you wanted anything.”
“Like what?”
“Honey, squash, cheese. I dunno, farmer’s market things. Didn’t we see gourmet reindeer jerky last time we went?”
“Let’s forgo the jerky. We could use cheese. We’re out of squeaky cheese curds.” Velma’s eyes met hers and they shared a smile. Everyone liked squeaky cheese curds.
“Are you coming with to make sure I buy the ones with the right amount of squeak?” Velma asked. That wasn’t really her question though; she wanted to know if Marcie would accompany her. It was an unspoken invitation. “If so, you might want to change. I dig the flannel pjs, but you might be cold. Or we could run into your students.”
“Give me ten minutes?”
“I’m starting my stop watch.”
Marcie rolled her eyes, but she bent down to lightly peck her anyway. Marcie never turned down an opportunity to kiss her. It took Marcie closer to twenty minutes to change and reemerge. Velma was still there though, waiting by the door. When they were younger she would have left already, more focused on the destination than the journey.
Velma took her hand once she had locked up. Neither of them wore gloves, though jackets were in order. Marcie didn’t know if they had both forgotten them, or if Velma simply hadn’t bothered. She had always run far hotter and without circulation problems. Her fingers were a steady comfort as they walked along the ever-varying sidewalks taking in the autumnal views.
Fall had only arrived in earnest a couple weeks ago when the weather finally took on a chill. Marcie hadn’t even noticed the foliage explode into color until today. Then again, her world always felt muted when Velma wasn’t around. She added a vibrancy Marcie’s world otherwise lacked and reminded her to take joy in the little things.
Like buying two different pastries from a market stall and sharing them with your partner so that you get to try both. Especially when she orders the bear claw you had been eyeing, even though she hates almond paste, because you ultimately picked the raspberry tart instead. Marcie didn’t say thank you for eating all of Velma’s pastry and half of her own. That would have made Velma prickly and uncomfortable. Still, Marcie noticed it and she cherished the gesture.
They bought several bags of cheese that produced the correct sound and texture. Marcie found herself manically grinning at Velma, who matched her facial expression, as they ate an entire bag’s worth of curds on the way home. That was why they had bought several bags of cheese. It was hard to stop eating them once they started and Marcie couldn’t remember when she’d last eaten fresh curds.
Two moderately large pumpkins had also been purchased and those were harder to bring home. They had to pause and rest a few times on the return trip, elsewise risk losing their grip and smashing a pumpkin. Marcie might be a fan of the band, but she wasn’t about to recreate their name. She had a use for these pumpkins.
The pumpkins ended up on the kitchen table. Marcie thought they’d leave them on the porch, or maybe the garage to protect them from squirrels, but Velma just carried them both inside. She barely paused before going and rifling through the cutlery drawer. Eventually Velma pulled out a large knife.
“Oh, we’re carving them now?” Marcie said in surprise.
“Yeah, why wait? Carvings will hold up for a week and a half,” Velma replied. She got out a mixing bowl for the guts. “Or did you have something else planned for today?”
“Not really.” Dealing with students’ emails and laundry could still accommodate pumpkin carving. “Just thought we’d do it next weekend right before the big day. Does this mean you’re leaving before then?”
“I was planning to be here through Halloween, unless you want me gone.”
“That’s unfair. You know I never want you gone. I just want to know what your schedule is.”
“I should be here until the second, then a quick jaunt to visit my publisher, and hoping to get back on Saturday. After that I was planning to be home through Thanksgiving. Our flight to Ho Chi Minh City leaves on the twenty-eighth. Is that good enough for you?”
No, but it was far better than Marcie expected. Usually she’d get Velma for a few days or a week at a time. Then she’d dip for a month or two on a cross country road trip. A dark suspicion rose. The fact she was here for this long and had a flight to Vietnam already lined up suggested this was a longer than usual trip. Or perhaps Velma was finally looping her in on her plans. They were definitely communicating more.
“How long of a trip is this?” Marcie demanded. Velma mumbled something. Clearly, she didn’t want to answer that question. “V, you need to be honest. How long are you going to be gone for?”
“We have jobs lined up for eight months. Mystery Incorporated provides a vital service!”
“That will keep you in Vietnam for eight months.”
“No, we’ll only be there for three weeks. After Vietnam there’s Cambodia, Laos, Thailand, Malaysia, Singapore, Myanmar, Bangladesh, Nepal, India, and then wrapping up in Sri Lanka. I can get you a copy of the itinerary if you want.”
“I’d like that,” Marcie said, sitting down rather suddenly at the table. Velma reached out to grasp her shoulders and squeeze them. Normally Marcie would lean into the touch, but she just sat there.
“Are you okay?”
“No. I just found out my wife didn’t think it was worth mentioning she’d be out of the country for eight months.”
“I was going to tell you! I just… wasn’t sure how.”
“That’s an obscenely long time to be gone for.”
“I know,” Velma groaned. “I was originally planning to fly home for a week between Malaysia and Myanmar, but then we got reports about a manananggal menacing an orphanage in Singapore—they don’t even belong to that country—and we couldn’t turn a blind eye to that. I know it’s a corporation or a landlord behind it, I just know it!”
“There are always more people who are going to need your help,” Marcie said. “What about me? What about us, V?”
“You knew this was a long-distance relationship when you married me, Marcie,” Velma sighed. “At this point I’m committed.”
“And your commitment to me?”
“Is the same as it always was. I cherish the time I’m here with you. When we’re apart we’ll stay in contact with phone calls, emails, and video chat like we always do.”
“Only when you have service,” Marcie grumbled bitterly.
“We’ve got a SAT phone and will spend a lot of time in cities with adequate cellular coverage. I’ll send you so many stupid texts you’ll be thrilled for the breaks.”
Marcie let the scornful silence speak for her. Velma sighed, buried her face in Marcie’s hair, and pulled her into a hug.
“I’m sorry, okay?” Velma murmured. “I promise I’ll consult you before planning any more international multi-month trips, okay? But you know travel is part of my job. Always has been. Can we just focus on our time together?”
“Fine,” Marcie snapped. She picked up the knife. “Let’s carve these now. I feel like stabbing something.”
“Just as long as it’s not me,” Velma joked. Marcie didn’t laugh.
The pumpkin carving helped. Marcie worked a lot of aggression out by hacking open both pumpkins and then viciously scraping one of them out with the plastic orange spiked spoon they kept in the odds n ends drawer for that specific purpose. Velma watched her silently, slowly scraping her own pumpkin with a vastly inferior serving spoon. As she neared finishing her interior cleansing Marcie’s motions slowed. She was still upset with Velma and her choices, but the anger had burned off leaving resignation. Velma wouldn’t be her Velma without the insatiable wanderlust.
“Do you want the pumpkin scoop?” Marcie asked, offering Velma the gooey utensil.
“Thanks,” Velma said, plucking it out of her grasp.
“I’m still angry,” Marcie said, “but you wouldn’t be the woman I love if you didn’t pull this sort of BS.”
Velma flinched at that. Marcie didn’t think she had said anything that terrible, but her assessment of Velma’s choices must have cut her to the quick. Well, that’s what she got for making extensive longer term life altering decisions without consulting her other half. And she was her other half because Velma made her vows to Marcie, not the gang, even if they had been present when she did so.
“Fair enough,” Velma said lightly. “Have you decided on your pumpkin design?”
That was a clear attempt to change the subject. Marcie agreed to take the bait. She felt bad about Velma’s reaction and lashing out, even mildly, wasn’t something she wanted to do in her relationship. Belaboring the point when they had limited time together harmed more than helped. Especially when she had already gotten a future concession.
She didn’t know what she wanted, but after a little thought Marcie decided upon a traditional jack-o-lantern. Roundish eyes, triangle nose, and then she had to choose tooth shape. While spikey ones would be spookier, Marcie had always been charmed by the square parapet style ones. They were fun and traditional. The teeth weren’t easy for her, she was no artist, but in the end she got them all roughly of the same size, even if the pumpkin clearly had a few gaps in its gumline.
Velma went for a far more challenging design, though her artistry was at roughly the same technical ability. When she finished she turned her phone’s flashlight on and stuck it in the pumpkin before turning the gourd around for Marcie’s viewing pleasure. She had carved the silhouette of two bats framing a central figure. Marcie wasn’t quite certain what the figure was. But from its wavy nature she’d guess a ghost.
“Do you like the cat?” Velma asked earnestly. “I had a tail sticking off one side initially, but accidentally lopped it off.”
“Definitely,” Marcie said. A cat totally would have been her second or third guess. “It’s a great pumpkin.”
Their artistic creations went into the garage for preservation. Clean up didn’t take long. Velma stuck most of the seeds on a cookie sheet then popped them in the oven before running the rest of the guts out to their compost. Marcie always meant to mix in leaves and properly stir it for a little quality gardening soil, but never actually managed it, so table scraps simply went out there to die. A damp cloth cleaned the rest of their work space while Marcie washed their spoons and knives by hand. When she finished, she flopped onto the couch. Velma joined her.
“Why are we baking the pumpkin seeds?” Marcie asked, running her fingers through Velma’s hair. “We don’t like eating them.”
“I’m hoping they’ll distract Scooby and Shaggy long enough for us to hide the good candy the next time they stop by,” Velma murmured into Marcie’s shoulder. “It’d be a shame if they cleaned us out this close to Halloween.”
“Smart.”
“I have my moments.”
They binge watched a few episodes of a ghost hunting show. Something pure fantasy, as neither could stomach the horrors of reality TV. That would have been embarrassingly gruesome, which is what always happened when real people tried to hunt the supernatural. Sometimes Marcie worried the gang would attempt one of these wild goose chases, but thankfully Velma scoffed at the notion. The sound always eased the tension between Marcie’s shoulders.
At some point Velma got up to deal with the pumpkin seeds. She returned with hot chocolate for both of them. Marcie appreciated the treat and blew on it before eating the marshmallow out of the cup. Later Velma disappeared again only to return shortly with leftovers from last night. There was just something magical about hot pockets of gluten free ravioli appearing in a bowl in front of her with the right pasta to sauce ratio. She loved having someone who cared about her at home.
Eventually the light of the television was the only thing illuminating the room. When Marcie turned it off they were bathed in darkness. Velma immediately turned her phone light back on. It was Marcie’s turn to wince. She should have flipped on a lamp before killing the TV. They had never once talked about it, but Velma had a significant fear of the dark. Marcie didn’t know what had induced such a phobia in the otherwise fearless woman, but she never meant to induce that fear. That was why they had night lights in their bathroom and main halls. The only reason their bedroom didn’t as well was the bright street light outside their window. The week it was down due to construction Velma had the worst nightmares in all the time Marcie had shared her bed.
“I’ll stick these in the dishwasher?” Marcie offered, switching a lamp on as she rose. Velma nodded. “Why don’t you head upstairs and I’ll join you when I finish.”
As Marcie loaded the dishwasher and wiped down the countertops, she could hear Velma prowling around the ground floor. She was checking that all the doors and windows were locked before retreating upstairs. Sometimes she seemed a little paranoid, but Marcie was glad she never had to worry about security when Velma was home.
Upstairs they completed their nightly ablations before climbing into bed. Marcie had to flip her pillow around a few times and fluff it up before she was comfortable, but after that she knew she would fall asleep lying on her back. Even with her eyes shut Marcie was aware that Velma lay on her side curved toward her. Velma liked watching her fall asleep and hopefully the process helped her relax enough to slumber as well. Marcie didn’t know if it did, but she knew she preferred drifting off this way.
Some indefinable time later Marcie woke sweaty and confused. She could feel the bed shaking and there were soft hurt noises. Navigating by touch Marcie groped for Velma. She eventually reached her at the far edge of the bed, whimpering as she rabbit kicked. It was another nightmare, though far from the worst Velma had.
“Shh, it’s okay,” Marcie crooned, stroking her fingers along Velma’s forearm. “You’re safe. I’m here. Shh.”
She didn’t know what triggered the nightmares, but she knew she helped. Specifically, her presence and Velma readily admitted she slept better with her. Why that didn’t translate into living at home full time Marcie couldn’t say, but she’d never deny the basic comfort she could give.
Slowly she managed to sooth her trembling wife and her limbs stilled.
“Marcie,” Velma mumbled in her sleep. Tonight that didn’t sound like a hurt plea.
“I love you too, V,” Marcie whispered before kissing her forehead.
She buried her face in the crook of Velma’s shoulder and snaked an arm around her waist. A foolproof way to keep the nightmares away, even if Velma couldn’t initially fall asleep in this position. Marcie sighed, her eyelids already feeling heavy again. It wasn’t perfect, but she’d never trade away an instant of her time with Velma.