Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

When Sue is seven years old she sees two girls holding hands at a funfair in Boston. 

One of the girls is wearing a stripy shirt, the arms stretch over her hands so that they’re hidden, and she has on a pair of dungarees that make Sue smile because she’s wearing a similar pair. She can’t stop looking at them and she watches as one of the girls–(the one with the hidden hands)--leans over and kisses a pretty red-head under the moving lights of the carnival. Right there in the middle of the queue for a ride that Sue is too little to go on. She can’t turn away and stares as they both giggle against one another’s mouths. It makes something bloom inside of her chest, happy and warm and like she’s riding the rides she’s not allowed to go on. The ice-cream in her hand, long since forgotten in her daze, drips down over the back of knuckles, falling towards the ground and sliding over the laces of her dirty sneakers.

“What are you lookin’ at?' ' finally pulls her from her trance and when she blinks and looks up at her dad it startles her back into the present. He looks a lot taller when he’s close like that and she bends her neck to look up at him. He doesn’t give her the courtesy of looking down. “I’ve been callin’ your name like you’re a damn dog.”

Sue shrugs because she isn’t really sure what she was looking at–how is she supposed to explain it?-but she turns her head again, just to glance, and her dad follows with his own eyes. She knows he’s seen what she’s seen without even looking up at him because he reaches down and grabs at her small hand, the entirety of his engulfing hers and making it feel immediately hot and trapped. He grunts out a noise before tugging her close to him.

“Damn right you should be staring at that circus over there. Let them know what you saw,” his words are louder than they were before and Sue thinks that the two girls probably heard because the one with dungarees, the ones just like hers, stiffens and pushes forward a little in the line. “Gonna be a battlefield for you growin’ up in this damn country, girl. You’re gonna have to navigate some real bullshit.”

Her dad pulls her away and Sue lets herself get distracted by the loud noises of the carnival. 

There are boys running around and pushing one another that make her laugh and young men showing teddies from behind booths that make Sue’s eyes go wide. Her dad wins her the biggest one he can with the few coins he has in his pocket–and he tells everyone later in the bar, where he hides her under the table, how quickly he managed to win it for her–and Sue forgets all about the two girls and how nice she thought they looked.

—

At nine, Sue is proficient in most things young adults are unable to do. 

Sometimes she likes to pretend she's like the character Matilda from the books she read when she was younger but, honestly, she isn’t. She doesn’t have magic powers and her teacher isn’t going to take her on adventures like Miss Honey. Instead, her dad is just absent and she knows if she didn’t learn how to make ramen or how to use the washing machine then she’d probably be in trouble more often than not.

Her school sometimes asks questions but they don’t care, not really, and it’s enough for Sue to not bother her dad about. As long as he goes to parents evenings and attends Sue’s little shows that her class puts on, they don’t have time to probe deeper. She nods along when people tell her how difficult it must be for him being a single dad and losing his wife so unexpectedly and she doesn’t tell them that he still thinks her favourite colour is blue–it’s yellow –and that they celebrated her birthday a day late because he forgot. 

(He generally comes home on a Wednesday or a Thursday and he only ever really disappears on Friday night so it’s not like she’s home alone all the time. Not really. )

Kids in her class ask if they can come over and do homework because they like Sue and Sue likes having friends but she has to say no. She’s pretty sure that other kids' homes have more than one bedroom and that their kitchens have food stocking the cupboards. She’s also sure that their homes don’t smell like whatever cheap alcohol her dad spilt the night before.

She does her homework and she washes her hair everyday and she makes sure that her clothes don’t linger with the scent of stale beer and nobody asks questions.

If she does everything right–nobody asks anything.

—

Just before her eleventh birthday Sue’s dad dies and she is sent away with a pretty social worker who tells Sue she can call her ‘Cherry’. Sue doesn’t really believe that is her name but she does what the adult in the room tells her to do and she doesn’t question it, even if she isn’t convinced. The day they tell her the news it’s storming and Sue is intrigued by the loud booms of thunder and flashes of electricity cutting the sky. She sits in a room with the principal and her favourite teacher Mrs Murphy. There’s another lady, Cherry, who tells her that she will be going with her to a foster home and that they are working hard to see if she has any family. They ask her questions about aunts or uncles and Sue has only ever really known her dad so she shrugs and sinks into her seat and accepts the Coca-Cola they offer her. She lets the sweet drink settle on her tongue thickly and watches as the adults panic.

She is pretty sure that they want her to cry and so she lets her bottom lip wobble. 

They all sigh together sympathetically and Mrs. Williams draws Sue into her arms so that she can hold her tightly and it feels nice and warm so Sue lets her. The smell of lavender and chalk surrounds her and Sue grips onto her teacher's blouse, her fingers twisting into the material. She nods obediently when they tell her that she will be okay and she believes them when they say that they’re going to make sure she is safe. 

Across from her Cherry is tapping something into her phone rapidly and when she looks up to catch Sue’s eyes, she smiles. It’s blinding and beautiful and Sue’s breath catches in her throat and so Mrs. Williams holds her a little tighter, telling her soothingly that it will all be alright. If she’s truly honest with herself Sue isn’t sure if she isn’t alright. Her dad hadn’t been home in a few days and one of their neighbours had caught her off-guard when she was coming home the evening prior; asking questions about her dad and telling her she shouldn’t be alone and Sue couldn’t think up a lie quickly enough. She spent the night in the neighbours house with a girl around her age called Abigail and then the news broke the next day.

She hasn’t really had time to process anything and so she doesn’t think she needs to be alright. She just is.

That evening Cherry takes her back home so that she can pack up a small bin liner with some clothes and her favourite books and then she leaves. She leaves her bedding and her crayons and the lipgloss she got from a girl in her class. 

She leaves behind everything, takes Miss Cherry’s hand and she walks out of the house.

—

Her dad’s funeral is held on a school day and she’s allowed to have the day off. 

There are only four people in attendance. Sue, Cherry, a man who Sue has never seen but introduces himself as her dad’s drinking buddy and the Priest. 

Later when she gets in the blue car Cherry drives she ignores the look she’s being given and stares out of the window instead. She knows in her mind she’s sad and scared and that she misses her dad–or the dad she recalls from when she was younger–but she tucks it away. 

Neatly. 

Sensibly. 

And when Cherry asks if she’s okay she nods and smiles and says she will be because that’s the correct thing to do. 

—

At twelve, Sue hates her aunt and she hates Amherst and she really, really, hates the man in the house behind her.

“Hello. I’m Emily. Dickinson. I’m Emily Dickinson.”

“I’m Sue.”

At twelve, Sue meets Emily Dickinson and she thinks that’s all she ever really needed.

ii

It’s difficult for Sue to not believe in fate when she spends so much time with Emily. Watching as her friend delights in the little things–the flutter of a butterfly's wings, the bend of grass under a swift breeze, the way ink slicks to her fingertips when she writes and leaves echoes of herself on the page–it is easy to believe in magic. Emily is able to walk into her life and make her forget about her aunt's disappointment and her uncle's comments. 

She doesn’t exactly make her forget about her parents–Emily has a bad habit of saying things before really thinking about them, but she does make it easier and Sue can see the support and empathy in her eyes when Sue talks about it. 

The Dickinson family accept her into the household with wide arms and warm hearts. Emily’s parents don’t make much of a fuss about her but she enjoys talking about probability with her dad and Emily’s mom falls over herself to teach Sue recipes that Lavinia and Emily care little for. Her siblings are everything that Sue thinks siblings should be; annoying, catty, supportive. Austin is very much the leader of the three–or, he tries to be–both of his sisters are free spirits and they often send him on a wild goose chase before they listen to what he says. He covers for them if he needs to and while he spends the majority of the time with his own friends outside of the house, he enjoys being with his sisters. It’s clear to see even if he won’t admit to it. Lavinia is probably the most outgoing and Sue likes that about her. Each of the siblings are unapologetically themselves–Austin with his pride, Emily with her writing and Lavinia ties them all up in a weird and wonderful way. Barely a teenager Sue already knows that Lavinia’s art is going to capture people's attention–even if those under the Dickinson home don’t quite understand it yet. 

They all kind of grow together and Sue truly believes she’s found what family should feel like. 

It looks like Mr. Dickinson calmly bringing an end to a debate between Emily and Vinnie with a strong “enough” at the table; it smells like onion and garlic sizzling in a pan while Mrs. Dickinson instructs her how to dice meat correctly; it feels like the soft weight of Vinnie resting against her while Emily and Austin arm-wrestle at a table in the garden and then the sudden free feeling of running, running, running from the house when they inevitably knock over a plant pot in their vigour. 

(It doesn’t, shouldn’t, can never feel like the paralysing fear of a strong hand on her shoulder or look like the slick, awful smile of the man her aunt married. It doesn’t, shouldn’t, can never feel like the barbed comments her aunt throws at her each morning before school and after dinner before bed.)

Emily always tells her that she’s a part of her family and it fills Sue with something so precious and so warm that she’s sure she’ll fight to the bitter end to keep it. She remembers her dad and how it often felt like he kept her around because he had to; because his wife died; because there was a baby; because all eyes were on him. She looks at how her aunt treats her–like a burden, like the state called them up and she had to say yes because that’s what good people did even if they didn’t want to. 

And then there’s Emily. 

Emily who runs towards her when she sees her–wide smiles and big eyes and a poem clenched so tightly in her fingers that the wrinkles never quite straighten out. Emily who, when she grabs at Sue in her excitement and holds her hand and smiles at her, only at her, makes Sue feel powerful and strong and worthy.  

She doesn’t believe there is a single force in the entire universe that can match up to Emily.

She doesn’t believe there is a single force in the entire universe that will make Sue want to give the feeling up. 

—

Austin Dickinson likes her. 

Sue has known this from when she was about fourteen but as they get older it becomes more apparent. He slicks his hair back for her and when they have dinner he always waits for her to take a bite first before he begins and Sue thinks it’s sweet and kind of cute–but it’s entirely unnecessary. If anything it puts Sue off a little because she thinks if he really did like her, and if she really liked him, then maybe he wouldn’t have to try so hard–maybe it should just come naturally. She should like his hair however it is and she shouldn’t care if he eats first because she should just like him for him.

She knows that Emily knows too.

She isn’t sure why it is so important to her that Emily is aware of it but the powerful, strong, worthy feeling that Emily gives her on a daily basis becomes heavier and heavier when Austin smiles at her. Suddenly the feeling of being so important to Emily is heavy when Austin is in the room and Sue is terrified she’s going to overbalance trying to hold the weight of it all. 

—

“You know, Sue, I was the one who taught Emily and Vinnie how to ride a horse,” Austin tells her one morning. 

They’ve wandered over to where he keeps his horses at Sue’s request to see them. Originally she had knocked on the Homestead door looking for Emily but when she had gone into her best friend's room, Emily was writing and barely paying her attention and Sue had gone downstairs with a fond smile and in search of some company. Usually when Emily is writing Sue finds it easy to sit on her bed and read something herself or occupy her mind with  anything worthwhile. Today she had wanted to walk, to be outside, and when Austin had come into the kitchen and offered up his time she had easily agreed. 

“It went well then? Considering neither of them enjoy it,” she teases and Austin laughs. She walks closer to the chestnut brown horse and holds her hand out like Austin had previously taught her, waiting patiently before running her hand over the strong muscle of its neck. “I can imagine you’d be a terrible teacher. You have no patience.”

“I do! It’s not my fault Emily lost her balance and that Vinnie convinced herself riding horses is animal abuse. You know I can’t control their actions,” he rolls his eyes as he speaks but the words are teasing and Sue grins at the thought of a tiny Emily with a riding helmet two sizes too big. She can already imagine the grumpy turn of her lips, her big eyes looking longingly back towards the house where her pens and her paper and her ideas live.

Sue hums at his words but her mind continues to fill with a little Emily she never got to know. She loves the Emily she has now; headstrong, funny, ambitious – but she wonders what Emily in her childhood was like. There are stories, of course, from Austin and Mrs. Dickinson but it isn’t the same. If she let herself stop to think about it she’d probably know why she wants to know everything about Emily, she’d understand why her best friend is her favourite subject, but she doesn’t stop and she doesn’t let herself.

“So. Hey – Can I…Can I ask you something?”

Austin’s voice is so nervous that it makes Sue snap to attention. She turns to look at him and she can’t help but smile at the image in front of her; Austin, his hair pulled back, his shirt crinkled in a way that would make his mother despair and his lip pulled back under his teeth. He looks everywhere but at her and Sue watches as he mutters something to himself before straightening his shoulders and finally making eye-contact, a blush spreading over his cheeks as she meets his gaze. 

“Yes, Austin?”

“I’m just – Give me a second, okay?” Austin says and Sue laughs softly, completely amused at him. Sometimes when he’s like this, unsure and so young looking, Sue finds herself completely taken by him. She doesn’t think anyone can ever reach the depths that Emily makes her feel but Austin tries and her fondness for him is genuine. “So – I. Well the thing is, Sue. I’ve been thinking for some time –”

“ Dangerous. ”

“Stop,” he frowns, irritated she’s thrown off his speech and it just amuses Sue further. “I’ve been thinking that, well, you’re part of this family. Wait. No. Gross. That wasn’t what I was trying to say.”

Sue grins, completely taken by this version of Austin that is so alien to both of them. “What are you trying to say?”

“I’d like to take you on a date.”

It’s out so quickly and so briskly that Sue forgets to stop smiling. Austin takes that as his cue.

“I think you’re wonderful, Sue. And I know you’re Emily’s friend and that she will probably make it weirdly about her but I really do like you and I think you might like me too. I’d just like to try and see where we could go. Is that okay?”

“Oh. Well I –” Sue trails off and she’s surprised at herself for not seeing this coming. Austin has been particularly more interested in spending time with her lately and with Emily taken by the writing bug, Sue has let him keep her company. 

He’s sweet and loyal and Sue isn’t blind to the Dickinson genetics. But then she thinks about Emily and how she lights Sue on fire sometimes with her friendship. Maybe that’s just how it is, she thinks. She doesn’t really see the traditional ‘couple’ love people speak about in books. Her aunt barely tolerates her husband; Mr and Mrs. Dickinson aren’t the most affectionate of people; she could count on one hand how often her dad even hugged her. 

Maybe, she thinks, maybe this is what everyone else feels when a boy asks them on a date. 

What else does she have to compare it to? 

“You’re a great guy, Austin,” she says and Austin looks so disappointed at her words that she suddenly feels the desperate need to make it better. To do the right thing. “This is just so sudden.”

“Is it?”

No, she thinks. But she knows her answer isn’t exactly an enthusiastic yes and she needs to stall, needs to ensure that the light doesn’t fall from his eyes. She’s almost sixteen and maybe having a boyfriend like Austin wouldn’t be the worst thing; he’s popular and handsome and he’s kind to his sisters when they aren’t annoying him. 

But then she thinks about Emily and she shrugs.

“I’ll give you time to think about it,” Austin tells her and she nods desperately at that. She doesn’t want to hurt him or to embarrass him and she just needs time to really figure things out. “But I’d really like it if you said yes.”

She smiles at him and he looks a little less distressed at that. 

—

Sue believes with her entire heart that Emily is made of words. 

She knows that logically that is impossible. Emily is as human and as flawed as everyone walking on Earth but Sue is so sure of it that it becomes her truth. From the moment she met her she has always been inspired by Emily’s pursuit of language, of learning the meaning behind words and using them in her own writings. She hangs onto the evenings that Emily decides she’s going to challenge herself and they dive deep into new understandings of literature and of poetry and when they come up for air, newly educated and refreshed, they giggle and Sue watches Emily fill up her body with more and more words. 

In truth she never thought Emily would run out of things to say but when she tells her about Austin, about the morning he had asked her on a date, she watches as the words drain out of her and leave her as a husk laying next to her on the bed. 

When she asks Emily if there is a reason she shouldn’t date Austin, Sue had been expecting an impassioned response to the admission, maybe a tantrum about Austin always wanting something of Emily’s. She expects something. 

Anything. 

Instead all she gets is a simple, quiet, “no.”

That night Emily sleeps with her back to Sue, with her own arms pulled close to her chest, and Sue tells herself everything will be okay.

ii

Dating Austin is easy if she doesn’t look at Emily while she does it. 

Vinnie tells her that Austin has always had it bad for her and Mrs. Dickinson can barely contain herself when Austin lets his hand rest on Sue’s. She’s pretty certain that Mr. Dickinson couldn’t care at all about the whole thing but he keeps talking to her about number theory and, honestly, it’s as close to an acknowledgement as she’s ever going to get from him.

Emily says nothing and Sue fills to the brim with guilt.

—

“Yale?”

Mr Parker is the type of teacher that tells Sue that she can call him David if she wants to. She doesn’t, of course, he’s a figure of authority and she respects him endlessly. He reminds her of Mrs. Murphy from when she was younger and he has a love for numbers that is infinite which only serves for Sue wanting to learn more. He’s young and fun and Emily always teases Sue that she has a crush on him but she’s certain that she doesn’t.

“I’m going to help you fill out the scholarship application and we’re going to need to speak to your aunt about it but, Sue, I honestly believe you have the chance to do this,” he tells her passionately and Sue feels herself bubble in excitement, a giggle dropping from her lips at his honesty, and he smiles back wide and kind. “Is this something you’d want to give a chance to? I’ve spoken to your teachers and your grades are phenomenal. I don’t want you to waste this moment.”

Sue thinks about Yale; about the red brick building she’s only ever seen on reruns of Gilmore Girls. She imagines herself walking through the campus, laughing with Emily and roaming the libraries before getting ready to head out for meals in restaurants she’s never been to before and drinking in bars she’s never heard of. She wonders if New Haven looks as stunningly beautiful in the autumn as Amherst does and if Emily would wear her red scarf as they make their way to class. 

“I want to try,” she tells him and he lets out a ‘whoop’ that is entirely embarrassing but he doesn’t care and she wriggles in her seat at even being thought of for this opportunity. “What do I need to do?”

—

Austin, when she tells him about Yale, picks her up and spins her around so fast that she has to close her eyes to stop the dizzy feeling from becoming utterly overwhelming. He kisses her soundly on the mouth and tells her how proud he is of her, how he knows they’ll accept her, and he reminds her that she’s worked so hard for it that they definitely need to celebrate. The Dickinson gene runs deep though and she rolls her eyes at him when he teases about her crush on Mr Parker and she can see Emily, in her mind's eye, jumping up and down and screaming ‘I told you, I told you!’ at Austin’s acknowledgement of it. 

“We should do something to celebrate. Invite everyone around and have a party, ” He says casually as they sit in the grass in the garden. Somewhere above them Emily is helping Lavinia with her latest piece of art and Sue had wanted to help too but the knowledge of Yale sits sickly heavy in her stomach and she doesn’t want to tell Emily just yet. She knows Emily is going to college and she knows her family will support wherever Emily wants to go and there is no doubt that Emily could go to an Ivy League School if she put her mind to it. 

She hopes she’ll want to go to Yale too.

(But if she doesn’t. If she doesn’t…God, what if she doesn’t?)

“Maybe we should hold off on that for a little while until we know for sure I’m going. It’s not for another year and I might not even get in,” she tells him diplomatically and he hums his disagreement at the last part. “Besides, isn't your mom going to do something for you leaving? I’m surprised she hasn’t been preparing since you were born.”

He laughs at that, loud and attractive and it reminds Sue of Emily just enough that the guilt of Yale twists at her again. 

“Probably,” he says, smug. He’s joking when he continues. “Will you be my date to the party if we have one?”

Sue smiles and nods, wanting to appease. “Of course.”

He kisses her with a gentle laugh and she lets her hand rest on the strong line of his jaw. With Austin, when she kisses him, she always feels like she’s walking up the edge of something and then simply standing there. No fear, no excitement. Just a feeling of looking out into the distance and waiting.

It feels safe and there’s nothing scary or unexpected about it.

She thinks maybe that is how it should always feel.

—

It takes less than a month for Emily to learn about Yale and it spills from Austin’s mouth all over the dinner table. 

Her fork falls to her plate and Sue forgets how to breathe.

—

Emily Dickinson is potentially the single most stubborn person on Earth. She’ll dig her heels in and refuse to listen and argue until her throat is sore about things she knows nothing about just for the sake of getting under someone's skin. Secretly, Sue thinks it’s because she likes the attention, the acknowledgement. In her home, Emily tends to be left to her own devices and Austin gets a lot of their parents' focus and so, to Sue it seems, Emily has learnt to simply be as free as possible for a modicum of attention. 

When Emily is in action, she’s genuine poetry. Like the words she writes she’s passionate and blunt and she swings out of the room like the harsh finish on an em dash. When Sue is witness to it, it’s funny. Emily sets her face into hard lines and she puffs out her chest and she’s dramatic and ridiculous and amazing.

But when that focus is on Sue–when Emily’s hard eyes are fixated on hers and she pins Sue down with nothing but her attention–it’s too much. 

Sue knows that all Emily heard was ‘Yale’ and she thought about nothing else. She didn’t think about the fact Sue has no money and no family and all she has to rely on are her grades. At one point she had simply come to the conclusion that she’d go somewhere acceptable and apply for financial aid – but then Mr Parker had given her an opportunity and she wasn’t going to seek out Emily and ask her advice in case the moment was ripped from her. She needed to secure her future because she knew, deep down, that once she left her aunt's house – she was never, ever, going back.

It takes for Sue to yell at her beneath a tree in the Dickinson orchard for Emily to finally understand. Sue doesn’t have money like Emily and while Mr Dickinson isn’t exactly going to win awards for ‘Father of the Year’, Sue knows he would support Emily endlessly and Sue thinks that sometimes, maybe, Emily forgets the privileges she has. Emily doesn’t have to worry about college; she doesn’t have to worry about where she’s going to live or how she’s going to afford it. 

Sue has been budgeting for living alone since she was ten years old. 

They fix things because Emily knows Sue won’t back down and Sue knows that sometimes Emily just needs to sulk. 

“If you travel all over with that beautiful mind of yours and teach the world the secret of numbers – Promise you won’t forget me. Please?”

When Emily asks her that, all wide eyes and fingers against her own, Sue can do nothing but surrender to her. It’s so impossible to think she could ever forget Emily – the way the girl smiles, how she bounces when she’s written an exceptionally good line, her mischievous smile when she’s done something particularly childish to her mother or Austin. Parts of Emily are so ingrained within Sue that she is sure she’s simply part of her now; that, somehow, the missing parts of Sue have been replaced with her favourite parts of Emily and that’s just how she survives now.

“-- I couldn’t forget you even if I tried,” she admits softly, gazing on the floor and measuring the inches between the tips of their shoes with her eyes. “Trust me. I’ve tried.”

She wishes she knew what that really meant but Maggie interrupts them, talking about search parties and how late they are, and Emily laughs before leading them both inside the house. She bellows happily for her family to stop worrying, tells her mother to call the search party off and decides to construct an elaborate story about kidnapping and espionage and a rather daring escape that includes Sue, a bedsheet and climbing out of a window. Her family don’t listen to her- they never do, Sue thinks, not really – and her mom pushes her plate closer while her dad frowns as he tries to drown her out and Austin attempts to capture Sue’s attention. 

But Emily doesn’t care; she grins and speaks with her mouth full and Sue pretends it doesn’t feel like everything good is settling on her chest. 

—

Austin’s bedroom is larger than Emily’s but smaller than Lavinia’s. 

He has the biggest bed out of everyone but he wastes it with a thin comforter and barely any pillows. It’s completely different to Emily, who has an entirely too big comforter and stark sheets, and Lavinia who has more pillows and throws than sense. But it’s Austin’s room and Sue doesn’t say anything; instead she lays next to him and he lets her lay on his chest while they watch a movie she chose and she listens to his stories about George and Frazer and how excited he is to move to New York. 

Occasionally his stories will include Jane and on those times, when her head is on his chest, she can feel the way his breathing changes and his heartbeat grows faster and she wonders if he knows what is going on. She thinks she should probably care more that her boyfriend has those kinds of reactions but she doesn’t question it because she trusts Austin and while they may not be perfect, and it may not feel the way writers say it feels, Austin is one of her best friends.

She had known that tonight was going to be different. Austin had become more confident in where he was putting his hands and for Sue it was acceptable; it felt nice and safe and Austin spoke to her the whole time, making sure she was okay and that what he was doing was good. She lets it happen because she’s supposed to and because Austin hasn’t done anything wrong and, honestly, she kind of wants to get it over with before Austin goes to college and also because she sort of just wants to. 

It’s not the same kind of wanting as she thinks it should be. It doesn’t devour her or make it difficult to breathe or take over her thoughts the way Emily’s words do or the way she’s heard it does for other girls, but she wants to try and there are definitely worse guys than Austin Dickinson. 

When it’s over Austin lays next to her and laughs out his disbelief that it has happened. He sounds sweet and lovely and Sue lets herself rest against him again. It wasn’t bad but she doesn’t believe it was good either and when Austin wraps his arms around her and pulls her closer she closes her eyes tightly and hopes, prays, begs that he doesn’t tell her he loves her. Because she isn’t sure she can do this again.

—

Emily knows immediately.

—

It’s the longest Sue has ever gone without speaking to Emily and it hurts.

When Emily had closed her bedroom door that night, Sue had stood in the hallway for almost fifteen minutes waiting for the door to open and Emily to say she was joking. The skin around her cuticles remains broken and bleeding from the hours she’s spent pulling at the nail, tugging the skin away and only wincing when the air hits it. 

She isn’t sorry for doing it. Austin is her boyfriend and people would ask questions and Sue learnt a long, long, time ago that as long as she did everything right then nobody would ask questions and the hard parts she doesn’t have answers to could stay hidden. 

Austin knows something is wrong. He starts asking questions when Sue starts going with him to hang out with his friends. She’s never done it before and while everyone but Jane welcomes her warmly, Austin isn’t an idiot. The evening is warm when he pulls her to the side and her fingers are a little sticky from where Frazer had bumped into her and knocked her drink over her hand. She’d tried to wipe it off but she didn’t really want to leave the room to wash her hands; it would mean looking in the mirror, seeing the pallor of her skin and the absence of Emily in her eyes. She didn’t really want to see that and she, instead, let the alcohol linger between her fingers and stain her skin a light purple. 

“What’s going on with you?”

He asks it in a way that Sue thinks is supposed to be comforting but she feels cornered and she frowns at him, annoyed he would ask and in public. In front of their friends.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean – ” he starts, looking around to make sure they’re alone and Sue almost feels bad for her immediate thought that he was trying to embarrass her. He wouldn’t. His father taught him better than that, she’s sure. “ – Why aren’t you with Emily right now? Curled up somewhere reading a book that everyone else pretends they’ve read to seem clever.”

“Okay, one, just because you’ve never read The Bell Jar doesn’t mean everyone else hasn’t,” she snaps and he rolls his eyes at her deflection.  Sometimes she hates that he has sisters and can so easily see through her tactics. “And secondly, I want to be with you.”

“Really? You enjoy being in Frazer’s apartment, drinking watered down cocktails from a can and listening to George crucify every early nineties song he can find on the karaoke machine?”

“Yes.”

He doesn’t believe her and when he sighs it makes Sue swallow nervously. “Have you fallen out with my sister?”

“No.”

“Stop lying, Sue. What did she do? What happened?”

You happened, she wants to scream. We were fine and then you asked me to be your girlfriend and nothing has felt the same since. 

“Nothing,” she says instead but her bottom lip wobbles and Sue is suddenly very aware the last time she cried was in the principal's office when she forced herself to do it so nobody would ask her why she wasn’t. She struggles to think of a time she’s felt this fucking sad before. She can’t think of a single moment. “Nothing is wrong.”

“Oh, Sue,” Austin whispers and he opens his arms, letting her press her wet eyes against his shoulder and he says nothing else. Just holds her tightly and they both pretend like she isn’t crying more about Emily than she has about him moving to New York. 

—

They make up because of course they do. Sue doesn’t think either of them can function without the other and she draws a line in the sand, telling Emily everything and letting them both linger in the hurt they refuse to acknowledge. She thinks that maybe something has shifted between them but she’s too scared to ask what; Austin is leaving for New York and Sue has another year before she can get away. She doesn’t want to risk losing Emily to something she’s probably thought up in her own head.

She decides to throw herself into her senior year as much as she can. Austin messages her daily to go to New York and she has to admit she’s tempted. Amherst is great, it holds a big part of her, but she wants to see more and she decides to ask Emily to go with her. If Emily says yes then she knows she’ll tell Austin yes and that thought excites her. She already knows that Austin would love to see his sister and she sets her plan into motion one evening in Emily’s bedroom. 

Emily agrees on the basis they can get a hotel and her heart plummets. Even with all the hours she’s putting in, she’ll never be able to afford a trip to New York and a hotel and while she knows Austin will insist on picking up every single tab, she hates the thought. 

“My dad will pay,” Emily says, like it’s nothing. Like paying for a hotel for his daughters and their friend in New York is simply nothing. Like it’s spare change. 

The Dickinson wealth is almost too much sometimes. Sue remembers foster homes before she settled with her aunt and she remembers having to portion out meals for ten children, sometimes more, and she remembers further back. Remembers how she once had to hold the door of her dad's truck closed when it fell off on their way back home from the park – she also remembers how the car had sat outside their house for months after, unused. 

She thinks back to her own bedroom at her aunts; her wages are stored in a little box under the floorboard beneath her bed. Savings for the day her aunt inevitably tells her she isn’t welcome back. 

When she snaps out an annoyed, “God, you act as if everything is so simple,” Emily falters. She knows she doesn’t mean it really; Emily has her own particular set of problems and Sue isn’t blind to any of it, but it still sets off something in her when Emily acts blind to her problems. 

Within seconds Emily’s hand is on her cheek and Sue comes back to Earth; her lungs inflate for the first time in months and she almost gasps in relief at feeling like a human being again. Emily’s touch always grounds her, always makes her feel the solid ground beneath her feet, and Sue covers Emily’s hand with her own when she feels like she’s going to pull away. The feeling of Emily’s forehead against hers, the feeling of her hand beneath her own –

“I love you.”

It’s the first time she’s said it in a long time.

She isn’t surprised Emily is the one to receive it. 

—

Sue shouldn’t be completely taken aback that Emily doesn’t say she’s going to Yale, considering she never asked Emily to go, but she still is. 

Her best friend has always strutted to her own beat and has always been the more impulsive of the two; understanding her feelings more deeply, able to feel rather than think and when she says she wants to stay in Massachusetts it really shouldn’t bother Sue – but it does. 

All of the air in her chest disappears and it feels like her belly button is being tugged right back to the base of her spine as Emily says it shouldn’t really matter where she goes because places are just places and people are just people. Which sucks because Yale was only exciting as a place when Sue was thinking about it with Emily as her person. 

Maggie is listening, Sue knows this because Maggie is always listening and she’s kind and patient when Sue excuses herself from the dinner she is making. She leaves Emily sitting in her own words and she makes her way back to her aunt's house with a fast pace she’s never had before. She’s never really thought about her future in terms of Emily not being in it–she always kind of thought that Emily would simply be there, waiting for her, sweet and exciting as always. She didn’t really think that Emily would make plans separate from her and when she arrives back to her aunt’s house–to no greeting and no acknowledgement–she goes immediately up to her bedroom. 

She has imagined many scenarios of college but she hasn’t prepared herself that she’ll really, truly, be alone there. In truth Sue has always had a thread of loneliness running through her, and she’s never denied it, but it becomes more painfully apparent in that moment. 

She’s not sure she can do it without Emily. 

It takes hours before Sue is able to reach for her phone and when she does she holds it and has to tap the screen several times to keep it bright. Deep down she knows that she isn’t exactly angry at Emily for wanting to go somewhere that is her choice but she’s been so used to feeling like Emily’s, like she belongs, that the idea of being alone again scares the shit out of her. But she wants to be supportive and mature and all the things a friend should be so she sends her text and she attempts a truce and she lets it go.

—

Sometimes Sue misses young Emily.

Of course she adores the Emily she has now; fun and wise and sarcastic. She loves how she still has her sense of adventure and how she makes Sue feel like the centre of their conversations. 

But young Emily was a force. She said whatever she felt like saying and she stomped her feet at unjust actions. Younger Emily wasn’t scared of anything and Sue kind of needs that now, she needs that confidence and unapologetic word-vomit. She needs Emily to say something, anything, but she doesn’t and it just leaves Sue struggling to understand what it is she wants to say.

“Austin wants me to stay in his room tonight and watch a movie,” she tells Emily and she really thinks that's the opening Emily needs; the one where she’ll ask Sue if she can stay in her bedroom instead and then they can figure out why that is so important to them.

But Emily just smiles with heavy eyes and tells her, “Okay.”

Which makes Sue think that maybe–just maybe–Emily doesn’t miss that closeness as much as she does. Because she’s sure if Emily wanted something so badly, as much as Sue wants it, she would simply stomp her feet and demand it. 

“No I –” don’t want to stay there, I’d like to stay with you. “I want to spend some time with you. Obviously. Before we leave.”

It’s the best she can do when she’s juggling everything that she doesn’t quite understand and Emily seems to sense it. She tells her they have time and then they breathe in and out, in and out, in and out, before Emily breaks it and wishes her a goodnight. It feels entirely too much and Sue knows that Austin is waiting for her, growing impatient with Lavinia in the other room, but it’s starting to feel all-too-real that she’s so much closer to losing Emily than she ever has been.

Soon they’ll be falling asleep in dorm beds, hundreds of miles from one another, and they’ll have new friends and new things to focus on and eventually–like every other time–Sue will let herself be forgotten like with her dad, with her aunt – Soon the only thing tethering them together will be Austin.

The idea of Emily forgetting her, of moving on without her, pulls a weight down her spine and she steps forward. 

“Emily, wait,” she tries and Emily sighs. “You look beautiful tonight.”

Which is true. Sue had spent a long time choosing her gold dress; she wanted to feel special and worthy and Austin hadn’t been able to take his eyes off of her when she had exited her aunt's house. The attention was nice, of course. Austin put his hand on the small of her back and puffed his chest out as if to say “look at what I can do”. It wasn’t objectifying, not really, but it didn’t compare to the blush that rose on Emily’s cheeks when they walked into the restaurant.

But Emily’s dress? That was almost too much for Sue to bear. She’d been used to Emily in her jeans, in plaid skirts and t-shirts. Emily in that dress, tucked into her curves and bending with her body, made all the air leave her chest. She had wanted to tell Emily immediately how beautiful she was, how she loved her hair like that, how her makeup made Sue’s lips shake. But then Austin was taking her to his mom and Lavinia was asking where she got her dress from and there was never really any time they were alone for her to say anything. 

“Vinnie said I would be an idiot not to wear it, so –”

Sue has never agreed with Lavinia Dickinson so much in her life. She’s never wanted to run her hands over maroon material so much either but she keeps that to herself, tucking it neatly beneath her breastbone and reminding herself that if Emily wanted her to say something then she’d simply ask.

Eventually they bid each other goodnight and Sue goes to sleep with Austin in his bedroom. He kisses her neck and compliments her and tells her how much Yale will love her.

She tells him she’s tired and he agrees.

The birds are singing when she finally drifts into sleep.

iii

Yale is everything that Sue was expecting it to be. Bustling. Vibrant. Exciting. 

Her professors are fun and, despite what Mr Dickinson would try to make her believe, there are more girls in her Pure Mathematics lectures than she was expecting so it’s easy for her to make friends. She picks up a journalism course to fill some blocks because writing reminds her of Emily and she wants to be able to have things to talk about with her when they speak again. 

Time goes quicker in college than it ever really did in high school and, sometimes, Sue finds her unread messages to Emily were sent days ago. 

She wonders what Emily is doing, why her social calendar is suddenly so full that she can’t find a single hour in her day to call Sue, but she tries not to think too deeply about it and she goes to cafes and watches people she knows doing spoken word performances and play guitar and she goes to parties and makes best friends with people for one night. 

For so long though she was Emily’s only friend, apart from her sister, and she finds she’s still stuck in first gear while Emily is already rounding the final corner to the race into adulthood. Her mind fills in the blanks to her unanswered questions; she tries to not imagine the worst case scenario but she can’t stop the thoughts crashing into one another and she has to fight with herself. Emily wouldn’t just abandon her – she wouldn’t. She isn’t like her dad or her aunt.

Right?

She thinks about the final night with Emily, all that time ago, and she looks at the poem that she wrote for her over and over. The words tattoo themselves on the inside of her eyelids and the lines twist around her chest, squeezing, pulling. She wants Emily again. The unapologetic girl who would do anything to have a single conversation with Sue. She’s tired of unanswered calls, unread messages and it bubbles hot in her stomach. 

—

“Do you think you could make the trip up to New York this weekend? I can meet you at the train station.”

When Austin smiles like that he looks so much like Emily that Sue can’t stop herself from nodding, agreeing to go and see him even though she doesn’t really want to. She wonders if everyone else in a long term relationship feels this empty at the thought of going to see their partner.

She doesn’t think so.

—

Things only really start to fix themselves during Thanksgiving. Between starting college and Thanksgiving break, Sue has managed to make a few new friends but she’s kind of excited to go back to Amherst, even if it means she’ll have to stay with the Dickinson family. She’s pretty certain her aunt has changed the locks and she doesn’t think she’s going to try to see her anyway. 

Austin picks her up and he plays all their favourite music and she sings along to the worst songs with him, laughing at his voice changes during Disney musicals and how he tries to air drum but is about half a second out of beat on every single song. 

She has missed him, she thinks. Austin is the kind of person that Sue feels like she can relax around and when they settle for a moment between songs, she lets herself look at him as he drives and she sighs in guilt. He is patient and kind and she knows she isn’t what he was expecting as a girlfriend. She tries but she knows he wants the little touches, the dirty whispers in his ear, the excitement at getting to see one another after a long time – but he settles for long hugs and movie nights and he lets her break the kiss first. 

There’s a girl out there for Austin, she’s sure. She’s seen her friends who have fallen for one another and she knows they’re nothing like that. He deserves someone who is just as obsessed with him and he is with them. 

“Hey, you okay?” Austin breaks her thoughts and she swallows, nodding with a tight smile and letting him put his hand on her thigh. “Are you tired? You can go up to my room when we get there if you want. Nobody will say anything.”

“No, that’s okay. I told your mom I’d help with preparations.”

“You know she’ll have the entire thing ready by the time we get there, right? She’ll have made Vinnie help out.”

“I know but I don’t want to be rude. We can just have an early night,” she smiles and looks out of the window when he squeezes at her thigh happily.  She isn’t tired but she rests her head back anyway, unwilling to break Austin’s heart in a car on the drive back to his favourite place. “I’m just to rest my eyes before we get there, is that okay?”

“Sure, babe. I’ll wake you when we get closer. Emily is probably waiting at the entrance for when we arrive so you’ll need to prepare for that.”

It’s a joke but it makes Sue feel sick and she hums in response, closing her eyes and trying not to focus on how much she is dreading seeing Emily. 

—

When they were thirteen Sue remembers Emily tackling Austin so hard in the middle of an argument that they rolled down an embankment and splashed into the dirty water of the pond they were playing near. She remembers having to kick off her shoes and cautiously make her way to the squabbling siblings so she could wrap her arms around her best friend. It had taken ten minutes, which had felt like a lifetime, to get Emily to stop kicking out at her brother and another five to separate them. 

She can clearly see fifteen year old Emily stomping about when Sue told her about her uncle's comments and attempts at touches. Sue had to press herself against Emily’s bedroom door to stop her from ripping the wood from the hinges and going to get her dad. The only thing that had finally calmed Emily down was Sue running her hands from her shoulders to her elbows and she’d made Emily promise, swear, that she wouldn’t tell anyone and she’d used her thumbs to wipe away angry tears. 

So when she stands in front of this Emily–this college aged, college ready Emily–she doesn’t recognise her. Because when Sue denies ignoring Emily, even with evidence deep enough to drown in, Emily just…Lets it go. 

There’s no argument or angry tears. It doesn’t take an age to calm her down. There’s no stubborn words or pointed fingers.

Just, “Okay, I suppose I should let you go then.”

It’s obvious that Emily fights for the things she believes she needs to fight for.

Sue has to ask – when did she stop being that thing?

—

They make up. They clear up the confusion. Sue travels to Massachusetts just to celebrate the birth of Emily Dickinson with a stupid muffin and a single candle.

Enter stage right, Kate Scott Turner. 

—

“She looks at you like she wants to kiss you.”

“Well she’s already done that.”

Sue feels her entire body go cold and she stops walking, unsure how to move forward with the images assaulting her mind. Kate kissed Emily. Emily kissed Emily. They kissed. Flashes of the diner slam into Sue and she thinks about the way Kate smiled at Emily and how Emily let Kate touch her in front of her best friend and sister. 

Her mouth moves with questions, though she doesn’t hear what she’s asking, and she learns quickly that they kissed just before Thanksgiving. Just before Sue cuddled into Emily’s bed and apologised for being so distant. The entire time Emily’s mouth lingered with Kate and she didn’t even know. 

Suddenly the distance makes sense and she frowns painfully.

“Are you going to date her?”

“Is there a reason I shouldn’t?”

It isn’t a no and it’s posed in a way that reminds Sue of when she asked Emily that same question and she remembers how much she had wanted to hear a certain answer. She remembers how she wanted Emily to tell her there were hundreds of reasons she shouldn’t date Austin. But Emily never said anything, and Sue never pushed, and so she stumbles through her own answer because she can’t stop thinking about the fact that Kate kissed Emily and Emily liked it. 

“I’m your best friend, Emily. I’m not here to tell you what to do.”

The words feel wrong on her tongue and she’s not sure why. She wants to be supportive of Emily and she knows this probably isn’t the best way to react when your life-long friend tells you that she’s kissed a girl so she forces a smile, however broken, and takes Emily’s hand. 

—

Sue goes back to Yale a day early with the excuse that she has work to do. Instead of any kind of studying she goes to a bar called ‘Matties’ and she lets Sam Bowles from her journalism class buy her a drink and whisper into her ear about what he would like to do to her. She entertains him but she doesn’t give him anything more than a polite smile and an admonishing slap to his arm. She lets the weight of her fingers linger long enough that he doesn’t get distracted by other girls coming up to the bar, but pulls away, just enough, that he can’t hold her hand or let his own fingers brush her. His compliments are filthy and nothing like Austin’s–and so far from anything Emily would say–and she lets them set her on fire in all the worst ways.

Sam Bowles is the furthest thing from any Dickinson sibling that she’ll ever find and in that moment it’s exactly what she needs. 

She tells herself it’s not cheating because she doesn’t touch Sam intimately and she doesn’t let him kiss her, reminding him of Austin when he tells her he wants to, but she doesn’t discourage his smiles and she rolls her eyes when his phone lights up with girls' names. Sue knows she intrigues Sam–he doesn’t stop looking at her, even when more people flood the bar and take his attention, and Sue kind of likes feeling like she’s burning up. 

Truthfully she knows it’s the shame that is bubbling hot in her stomach; the guilt, the self-hate, the ignominy. 

Austin has never been a fan of Sam ever since Sue had first mentioned him and Sue knows she’s playing with fire by giving him a glimpse of what he could have. But each time he buys her a drink, and for every message Austin sends and Sue forgets to answer, all she can think about is how Emily let Kate kiss her and how much she liked it. 

She realises how messy she is when Emily texts her that she has asked Kate out on a date and, rather than answering her, Sue immediately messages Austin that she’s at a bar with Sam. She doesn’t even know why she does it; she wants a reaction, she wants a fight, she wants someone to blame for feeling like this and Austin delivers immediately as her phone rings. 

It rings twice and both times she declines it before finally, on Austin’s third attempt, she answers and ignores Sam’s raised eyebrows. “Yes?”

“What are you doing?”

“Drinking a Manhattan, talking about Twitter and answering a call from you,” she says instead of asking Austin if he’s ever met Kate, if he knows his sister is dating her, if Emily smiles more now because Sue doesn’t know anymore and she hates that. “Why?”

“You know he’s just trying to sleep with you, right? Sam?”

“So?”

Austin scoffs but he sounds more upset than he does angry and Sue’s stomach grows heavy and sore. “What is going on with you?”

“Nothing,” Sue snaps before she sighs and stands from the booth, heading out of the bar and into the quieter street. She can see her breath in the frozen air and she tries to tug her blazer tighter around her body with one hand. “Nothing. I’m sorry. I just wanted you to know because I didn’t want you to think I was hiding anything from you.”

“Sue, I don’t like him. I don’t trust him.”

“Do you trust me?”

“Yes of course,” he says adamantly and Sue bites her tongue, wills herself to not reply with you shouldn’t, and watches her breath leave her mouth again. “It’s him. I love you, Sue. But I can’t stand the thought of him and his smug face around you, I’m sorry.”

Sue tries to not linger on the fact Austin’s I love you sounds hollow and empty and nothing like how Emily’s makes her feel and she closes her eyes because none of this is Austin’s fault and she hates herself for it. She hates that she wants to fight with him because the idea of Emily dating Kate is too much and she needs to scream or cry or both.

“He’s my friend.”

“I’m your friend too. I’m also your boyfriend,” he tries softly. “Please, Sue. Just trust me on this. I know guys like him, I was a guy like him until you. I don’t want him around you.”

Sue licks her lips and leans against the wall. Behind her the door opens and loud music echoes, distracting her enough that she looks and sees Sam beckoning her. In the background she can hear someone starting up the karaoke and the opening chords of Loser by Beck begin playing. 

Sam grins and Sue brings the phone back to her lips. “I promise nothing will happen but Sam is my friend and I don’t want you to worry, okay? I’ve been honest with you that he’s here tonight. Please trust me?”

“Sue –”

“I have to go. Have a good night, Austin.”

She hangs up with little grace, puts her phone onto silent and lets Sam hold the door open for her. Eventually she knows Austin will grow weary of her, annoyed at her lack of affection and mean nature beneath her soft exterior. He’ll grow distant and eventually break up with her but it won’t hurt him because it will be his choice and she’ll let him because he deserves more. Maybe he’ll keep her as a friend, after so many years of knowing each other, and she holds onto that. 

Sue can’t be the one to do it because if she cuts Austin loose, if she loses him, that’s one less reason to go back to Amherst and Emily. 

She isn’t ready for that just yet.

—

It takes her three hours to text Emily back some lie about being busy with homework and she turns her phone off.

—

A few days before Austin picks her up to take them back to Amherst for Christmas, Sam tries to kiss her. He puts his hands on her waist and holds her tight as he pushes closer, pressing his entire body against hers, and drops his head down so quickly that Sue has to bend her entire neck to get away from him. 

“Sam, no,” she says and he frowns at her darkly, his fingers tightening. “Sam.”

“You’re a fucking tease,” he snaps at her and for a second she feels bad because she has been kind of letting him whisper dirty things and buy her drinks but she shrugs anyway as he lets go of her. “Grow up, Sue. Don’t come running to me when you decide what you actually want.”

She wants to laugh because she already knows it isn’t him but he storms back into the party they had just left and she decides to go home, alone, and thinks this might be the beginning of the end.

—

“I told you! I knew it, Sue. I fucking knew it. Did he try to hurt you?”

“No,” Sue says quickly because Sam is a scumbag, sure, and she’s definitely received a few messages from him letting her know his feelings on the matter. But he wouldn’t hurt her. “He just tried to kiss me.”

“What an asshole,” Austin grunts and Sue nods. “I’m just glad you’re not going to speak to him again.”

“What?”

“You and Sam. It’s not like you’ll speak again, is it?”

At that Sue shrugs because she never said that. Once Sam calms down, she will probably speak to him again because–honestly–when Sam isn’t trying to get into her pants she kind of likes the conversations he holds. Kind of. She doesn’t think they’ll stay friends but he’s her TA and their friend groups merge so that he’ll be at a majority of parties and hang outs. 

“I doubt I’ll actively seek him out but he’s going to be around. He’s in my friend group.”

“But you don’t have to speak to him, do you? I mean you can just avoid him.”

“It’d be weird if I just didn’t talk to him, Austin. He’s my TA and most of the time when I go out with the girls, he’s there. I’ll stay civil, obviously, but I’m not going to make it weird for everyone.”

“Fuck that,” Austin snaps and it makes Sue jump a little, startled at his strong words. “No. Fuck that. You’re not speaking to him.”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not speaking to him. I don’t want you speaking to him. I don’t want you near him. He tried to kiss you, Sue. He wants you.”

Sue laughs at his words but Austin doesn’t look like he’s joking and she turns in her seat a little to look at him. “Austin. You can’t tell me who I can and can’t talk to. I know you’re upset but –”

“Do you love me?”

“I – What?”

“Do you love me?”

“Austin, come on, you’re my boyfriend. Of course I –” she trails off with a sigh, her hand coming up to press at the bridge of her nose. “What do you want from me here? I don’t want to rock the boat in my classes. What if he does something and I end up failing? I can’t afford that.”

“He can’t blackmail you just because you won’t kiss him.” Austin dismisses and Sue shakes her head at the typical Dickinson attitude. “Please do this for me. If you love me you’ll stop speaking to him.”

It isn’t until Austin looks at her, grief pulling at the corners of his eyes, does she realise she hasn’t answered. 

“Sue?”

“I can’t –”

“Do you even want to be with me?” The question comes just as Austin pulls the car to the side of the road and Sue realises what is actually happening, what has been happening since she started college, and she holds her breath. “Sue! Will you just answer me? Do you want to be with me?”

“I – You’re one of my best friends, Austin…”

“Oh my God.”

“No. Please. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

When Austin looks at her again, his eyes are dark with anger but she can see how he holds his jaw and how he pulls his lip between his teeth. Callously, for reasons she doesn’t know, Sue can’t help but think how lovely he looks in that moment. How honest he looks. He hasn’t looked like that in a long time and she knows she’s to blame. 

“Sue. Be honest with me. Please. Do you want to be in a relationship with me?”

Her breath shakes when she inhales and she can see Austin already knows the answer. “Austin, I’m not –”

“Yes or no, Sue!”

“It’s not that easy.”

“I’ll make it easy then,” he shrugs, vicious in the delivery. “We’re done. The answer is a simple yes or no, Sue. It just is. You either want this or you don’t and if you’re hovering somewhere in the middle then that isn’t enough for me. We’re over.”

She doesn’t have much else to say to that and when Austin pulls back onto the road she lets him play his music as loud as he wants and she watches the scenery flash past the window. When she cries she lets Austin think it’s for him, for hurting him, for their relationship and the breakdown. She doesn’t tell him it’s because she’s pretty certain she’s lost the last remaining family she has. 

—

Sue figures out she’s probably falling for Emily Dickinson the night that Austin says they’re done and his sister tells her all about why she likes Kate Scott Turner. 

The irony isn’t lost on her.

iv

Eventually things begin settling again and Sue remembers how to breathe correctly. 

She lets things with Austin move naturally. She’s sure they both know things are just going to end anyway–Austin is talking to Jane more, she knows because he’s honest about it, and she isn’t bothered enough for it to be a concern. Jane is nice, in a stuck-up but knows it sort of way, and Austin has always been fond of her. There was a time when they were younger that Sue thought maybe Austin was just dating her to make Jane jealous, but then Jane never said anything and Austin was always attentive to Sue and the issue was never raised. 

Emily finally learns how to juggle college and Sue and Kate effectively and Sue spends her time on calls with Emily trying to work out if this feeling is new or if it has always been this way. Honestly, she isn’t sure if it’s love but it's certainly more than friendship and it’s only confirmed when she talks to her friends Mary and Elizabeth about it. She finds Elizabeth is more approachable about these topics but Mary isn’t shy about her opinions and she nods along at their advice, glad for the input.

“Are you going to break things off with Austin?” Mary asks one evening. They were originally getting ready to head out for a nice dinner and movie as a trio but they’ve taken to drinking cheap wine instead and Elizabeth holds a cigarette out of Sue’s dorm window. “Or is this just going to drag out forever.”

“No, I will,” Sue says to Elizabeth’s giggle and she watches as the condensation climbs the side of the cheap glass they’d bought from Ikea. “I will. It just has to be right. He’s such a good person and I’m not about to do it over text or near his birthday. He deserves good things.”

Elizabeth nods in sympathy but Mary points the glass at her, one eye closing in her tipsy state and it makes Sue laugh. “You’re going to break up with him. Doesn’t matter how you do it, just that you do and don’t do something you regret.”

“Like sleeping with his sister before doing it,” Elizabeth supplies helpfully. 

Emily is usually an unspoken topic for them but Sue had let slip once, maybe twice, that she potentially had feelings for Emily and both of her friends had taken that to mean more than it needed to. Regardless of her feelings, Emily was with Kate and Sue wasn’t ever going to jeopardise that. Her friendship with Emily, the family she had gotten because of Emily, was far more important than any fleeting romance she may have.

Sometimes Emily writes Sue letters; not a lot, but enough that it catches Elizabeth’s attention. She writes emails too – telling Sue she wishes she could ride the moon and visit her because she thinks it would be easier than a train – and Sue has to physically stop herself from missing Emily deeply.  The longing she has for Emily creeps up on her in the night, when she’s settling into bed and worn out from the day. It slicks over her, thick and suffocating and it only goes away when Sue reminds herself how happy Emily is with Kate and how Sue would never, ever, do anything to ruin that for her. 

“Shut up,” she says and the girls laugh to themselves. Mary decides she hates the skirt she’s wearing and rummages through Sue’s closet and Elizabeth lights another cigarette and holds it over the tiny gap of the window. 

—

Sue doesn’t know when she became so destructive. She tries to think back to when she was younger, when her dad was still alive and she followed the rules and did as she was told. There isn’t really a time that she can remember ever pushing it, she can’t ever remember testing the waters and watching as the ripples echoed outwards and rocked leaves and bubbles on the surface. She wonders if ripples have an effect beneath the surface; if one little movement can alter everything she can’t see. 

Possibly, she believes. 

Because she knows, she knows, there is no happy ending to Emily meeting Sam Bowles. There isn’t a possibility that they will get along; Sam is arrogant in ways that stink of privilege and never needing to struggle and Emily is arrogant in the same way but with licks of talent that make Sam’s nose flare with envy. 

But, as much as Emily dislikes following her mothers rules, she has been raised by Mrs Dickinson and she doesn’t say anything when Sam makes little comments about Mount Holyoke or asks about when she plans on being published. Her face tells stories though and Sue drinks back another rum punch, wondering why she thought this might be one of her better ideas. 

Emily’s polite attitude stops when Sam’s hand lands on the curve of Sue’s waist and he leans across the counter they are all standing at, with a wide smile and hazy eyes, and Sue has to hold her breath because she knows Emily has noticed his possessive touch and she will always, always, be on Austin’s side. 

“So I hear you and Sue are really close friends,” he says, his mouth glistening with insinuation and Sue tries to wriggle out of his hold but his fingers graze her ass in the attempt to move and everything begins to go wrong so suddenly that she doesn’t know what to do. “How about we go upstairs and you can show me how close we’re all willing to get?”

It’s so terrible that Sue doesn’t want to breathe. 

She hasn’t told anyone that Emily is in a relationship with a girl because that isn’t her story to tell but she can see the betrayal in Emily’s eyes regardless. And she knows–she honestly knows–that Emily isn’t embarrassed or ashamed of her sexuality but Sue knows that Sam just delivered a low blow, even if he doesn’t actually have a clue, and she steps away from him. 

He doesn’t seem to notice; his focus so clearly on Emily.

“Sam –” she tries but her voice is silent under the music playing and Emily’s fury. Neither look at her.

“God, you’re disgusting. I can’t believe Sue even entertains your awful ass,” Emily spits out and she turns on her heel to leave. Sue feels her stomach bottom out but the tequila shots they had earlier make her slow to react and by the time Emily is storming out of the kitchen, Sam is already laughing and inching his fingers back around her waist.

“Sam. Get off. What is wrong with you?”

“Loosen up, Susie,” he shrugs and the name makes bile rise up into her chest. “Let her cool off and we can stay here. It’s not her fault. She’s not exactly surrounded herself with people like us before. Maybe she’s just overwhelmed.”

“People like us?”

“Smart. Sexy,” he shrugs at her, letting his fingers flex against her a little, and Sue shakes her head at him as she picks up her jacket from the stool it was draped over. “Successful, baby. We’re Yale. She’s stay-at-home.”

“You’re actually disgusting. You know how wrong you are and you’re still speaking,” she frowns at him and suddenly she can see him through Austin’s eyes, through Emily’s eyes, and she feels like an idiot. “Fuck you.”

“I’m available when you are.”

There isn’t much liquid left in the cup when she throws it into his face but it’s satisfying to do it anyway.

—

“I’ve seen you. I’ve always seen you, Sue.”

“No. No. You can see Kate.”

In the morning she’ll blame the alcohol for her loose tongue and her exhaustion at hiding how much she really, truly, deeply hates the idea of Emily and Kate. She knows without doubt that Emily doesn’t share the feelings she does because if she did, if she felt an inch of what she feels when she thinks about Emily and Kate, then there is no way Emily would have kept quiet when Sue began dating Austin. It’s painful and it echoes inside of her and she has never felt this ache, this longing, this despair at the idea of Austin speaking to Jane or being separated from him. 

She’s never really thought about girls before. There have been times when she has been curious, of course, but she’s never thought about liking girls or dating girls and she knows this little infatuation will eventually go away. Emily is too important to lose over something she isn’t sure about. Even if her body screams at her, even if her heart feels like it may anchor her to the ground with the weight of it some days. 

Part of her wonders if it’s because Emily is her one thing, her one person, her one lifeline. Maybe it’s because she’s so tangled in Emily that it’s becoming confusing and the lines are blurring and it makes no sense. 

“What?”

“You see Kate. And Kate sees you. And Sam sees me.”

She knows Emily is confused but she’s fucking exhausted. Between balancing her studies, keeping Austin happy, entertaining Sam and wanting desperately for Emily to enjoy New Haven she’s just so fucking tired and she simply wants to close her eyes, just for a second, and not feel so much anymore. Emily’s arms are warm where they’re wrapped around her, holding her close. When she finally closes her eyes, safe with her best friend, all she can see is Emily and it makes her want to scream.

“And who do you see?”

Sue swallows her answer and pushes it all the way down. She doesn’t want to tell Emily anything; she doesn’t want Emily to feel even a second of what she has been feeling since that night in her bed when she realised that maybe, just maybe, her feelings were deeper than friendship.

“I’m not allowed to look yet,” she says instead and Emily laughs and tells her she makes no sense, their friendship righted once more, and when they finally make it back to Sue’s dorm she thinks that she may be able to live with this feeling as long as Emily laughs the way she did in that moment.

—

Sue goes without Emily’s physical presence for six months.

In that time she breaks up with Austin–albeit in the worst way possible; on the phone, during a football game, with stilted apologies and long silences–and she finds herself talking to Jane Humphrey of all people more often than not. It isn’t a lot but it’s enough that she knows about a week before everyone else that Jane is going to drop out of college and chase her dreams of a travelling romance with a beautiful man she had met during her Spring Break. 

The romance of it makes her smile and she wonders how she can be brave like Jane, to chase her dreams and give it all up for a singular moment of happiness. She doesn’t think she’ll ever do it–isn’t really sure what her happiness would look like–but it’s nice to dream and she comments on Jane’s Instagram Stories like it’s a sitcom she’s invested herself into. Emily isn’t quite as into the gossip as Sue is but she entertains her anyway and Sue enjoys that side of her friend, the one that happily lets Sue talk about things like they are the most important topics in the world.

She still struggles with Kate. She tries not to but sometimes Emily will drop her into conversation; she will mention something she’s said, something they did, a gift Kate bought. In those moments Sue finds herself unable to entertain the conversation quite as easily but she tries–she’ll always try for Emily. 

—

Her phone rings at five a.m and Sue is murderous before her coffee. There are only two people who would be willing to wake her so abruptly – Emily, who probably hasn’t slept yet and thinks five a.m is the equivalent to the middle of the day, and –

“Austin?”

“Hey. Hi Sue,” he says and Sue huffs as she drops her head back onto her pillow, frustrated and fond of the boy on the other end of the phone. “Did I wake you?”

“Don’t ask stupid questions, Austin.”

“Okay, yeah. I’m sorry.”

She knows something is wrong and she inhales deeply, her eyes still closed, and swaps the phone to her other ear. “Austin, what did you do?”

“What makes you think I did anything?”

“I’m hanging up in three seconds if you don’t get to the thing you did wrong and need my advice for.”

“That’s not –”

“ – One.”

“ – You’re being really unfair and kind of presumptuous –”

“Two.”

“ – Which, honestly, is exactly like you but it doesn’t stop it hurting me –”

“Three. Goodnight Austin.”

“I dropped out. Was kicked out. I don’t know. I think I’ve been kicked out of NYU.”

She has an interview tomorrow at eleven and she knows that she’s going to look like death if she stays on the phone but the words ring loudly in her ears and, truthfully, the Dickinson siblings could send smoke signals for help and she’d mount a horse to ensure they were okay. Her mouth is thick with sleep and she swallows slowly as she tries to understand what Austin is saying. 

Thinking back she remembers wondering if he was struggling with college but he hadn’t said anything, in traditional Dickinson style, and Sue hadn’t thought to press.

“What do you mean?”

“I’ve – I don’t want to study, Sue. It’s boring, and it’s kind of hard and I just –” he trails off and he sounds so lost and so scared that he reminds her of the old Austin, the young teengaer with big dreams of owning his own business and wanting all the friends. “I think I’m going to go to California.”

“For what reason?” She already knows. She knows Jane is in California and she knows Austin has no other reason to go, but she kind of wants to hear it because she wants to hear the happiness in Austin’s voice that she’s never been able to produce. 

“For business. For connections. For – Sue, you know why,” he tacks the last bit on in a whisper that makes Sue smile. “My dad is going to murder me if I go home this summer and tell him I’ve been kicked out. I need distance.”

“He won’t hurt you.”

“You don’t know him like we do,” Austin tells her and there’s something in his voice, something knowing, that makes Sue suddenly want to call Emily and ask if she’s okay. “I can’t go home. Not yet. Do you think I’m an idiot?”

“Yes,” she says with a smile and she hears Austin’s little laugh, a breath through his nose in amusement. “But not because of this. I’ll support whatever you choose to do, Austin. What does Emily think?”

“Oh. I haven’t told Vinnie or Emily yet.”

“What? Why?”

“Because they’re Vinnie and Emily, ” he says, like they aren’t his favourite people in the world. There’s a comradery between the siblings that seems to make more sense with the tone he adopted earlier, when talking about his dad, and she just hums because it doesn’t make any sense. “I don’t want them to be disappointed in me. I’m their big brother and I couldn’t even do college right, you know? I want them to be proud of me.”

Sue thinks about how Emily beams with pride when she tells her that Austin has read her poems or how Lavinia giggles to herself when Austin shows up to one of her performances. She thinks about how when Austin is speaking they both pay attention to him, even if it is to mock him occasionally, and shoot others down if they try to speak over him. They can mock Austin, nobody else can. 

“They’re proud of you.”

“What, for failing college and the only long-term relationship I’ve ever been in?”

She sighs at that, guilty and hurt. “Austin…”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” he rushes to soothe her and then grunts at himself in annoyance. “I’m sorry. I don’t know why I said it.”

“No. It’s okay. I understand. And for what it’s worth you were a great boyfriend. I just didn’t know how to be a girlfriend.”

“You did. You just didn’t want to be mine.”

For all of his bravado and idiotic nature, Austin is far wiser than he likes to admit. With sisters as observant of the world as Lavinia and Emily, it doesn’t surprise that Austin is able to assess things just as deeply and just as boldly as his siblings. Part of her feels bad for not noticing this side of him before they grew apart and she longs for that part of their friendship. 

“You know that was never my intention, right? I didn’t go into it thinking I didn’t like you. I wanted to like you, Austin. And for a while I think I did,” she says and she knows he isn’t looking for an explanation. In fact, she’s sure he’s searching for flights to California and booking a hotel as close to Jane Humphrey as he is able. But she still wants him to know that the pain she caused, the hurt, was never an intentional act against him.

She believes that maybe it was an intentional act against herself.

“I know, Sue. Don’t worry. I think we both are better off as friends anyway,” he reassures her in the same way that she’s seen him reassure Vinnie that she isn’t weird and the ways she’s seen him remind Emily it doesn’t matter if their dad doesn’t read her works as long as the world does. He’s a good guy. The best guy. She prays Jane sees that. “Is there anyone new in your life?”

Sue pictures Emily, pictures the ways she fights for their friendship and goes to bat for her against Kate. She smiles and then shakes her head.

“No. Not yet. You?”

And Austin laughs, because they both know the answer to that, and suddenly Sue doesn’t mind being awake before six.

v.

The first time that Sue knows, without an inch of doubt, that she wants to kiss Emily they are in a townhouse in the middle of New Haven with two of Sue’s best friends. She waddles into the kitchen with a box of Chinese food that she insists on paying for and Sue is filled with such gratitude and love and affection for her best friend that she doesn’t know what to do with it all. When she steps forward, drenching herself into Emily’s personal space, she thinks she actually might do something stupid like kiss her. 

Right there, in front of her friends and with the smell of grease and sweet sauce surrounding them. 

She doesn’t. 

Emily makes a joke and Sue rolls her eyes and they sit at the table and fall into easy conversation with Elizabeth and Mary. 

—

The second time that Sue wants to kiss her best friend, Emily is high and trying it for the first time and Sue can’t stop herself from staring. 

Everything but Emily feels kind of muted and Sue makes a mental note to congratulate her friends on their epic purchase this time. The world kind of vacuums in on Emily herself and Sue knows she’s probably going to do something stupid. Distantly she’s aware that Elizabeth is saying something and Mary keeps trying to get her attention, but Emily is right there and she isn’t with Kate and it’s entirely lovely to think about the fact Emily will be sharing her bed that evening.

“Do you always touch people’s faces when you’re high?” Emily teases as she begins to come down. Sue has started her own descent earlier but Emily doesn’t know that and she uses the excuse of still being a little high to let her fingers run over Emily’s shoulder and neck and bicep. “Is this what you’ve been doing while I’ve been in Amherst?”

“No. I only touch you,” she lies because she is definitely a tactile drunk – everyone says so, it’s almost its own running joke. But she likes the smile she gets when she says it and she tilts her head a little, regarding her best friend. “I’m so glad you’re here, Emily. You’ve felt so far away.”

Emily, for a moment, considers this and then nods. She’s so pretty when she thinks and it makes Sue want to press her fingers harder against the skin beneath her touch. “I know. I think we needed this time together. I’ve missed you, Sue. Will you ever come back to me?”

“Dramatic.”

“Poet.”

“I’ll think about it,” she lies again. Amherst isn’t on her cards in the near future; maybe Boston, maybe New York. But not Massachusetts, and she thinks that Emily knows that. “Do you want another drink?”

“Sure,” Emily smiles but Sue doesn’t move immediately, instead letting her fingers brush against Emily’s shoulder again and she tells herself if she’s going to ever kiss Emily–it won’t be with Elizbaeth and Mary singing Barry Manilow from across the room.

—

When she finally does kiss Emily it’s because she thinks Emily is choosing Kate over her and she can’t stop herself from doing it.

She knows it’s wrong of her but at this point she’s struggling to differentiate between right and wrong and Emily is right there. The night has been spent with Emily practically wrapped around her, with her hand within her own more often than not, and being the centre of Emily’s attention. It’s been so long since she’s been able to hold Emily’s attention for so long, with so much focus, and it’s easy to forget that in twenty-hour hours she’ll be wrapped up in Kate. 

In the back of her mind she can still feel the heat of Emily as they shared a single seat and she’s sure if she looks closely at her thighs she’ll be scarred with scorch marks from the indentation of her best friend's body. She thought about kissing her in that chair but she reminded herself–both of them–of Kate and she let her stomach sink heavily even as Emily’s dark eyes traced her own face. Part of her thinks back to that exact moment and wonders if Emily was thinking the same, if she thought about Sue’s mouth the same way Sue thought of Emily’s. 

She’s sure she doesn’t. 

That doesn’t stop her, however, leaning forward to press her lips to Emily’s in a kiss that is both unsatisfying in length and satisfying in relief. It’s barely anything and Emily whispers her name but she doesn’t want to hear it yet; she doesn’t want the questions or the confusion or the rejection. 

She rolls over to feign sleep and simply waits for the sun to rise.

—

“I’m not sure I like her.”

“Mary, you don’t like anyone, ” Elizabeth argues back and Sue kicks her sneakers off in the doorway as the conversation rolls lazily through the kitchen.

Once Emily was on the train, bound towards Kate, Sue had let herself walk around the streets for a while. She had picked up a honey-almond cronut that wasn’t nearly as satisfying as it had looked behind the glass and had walked down past the river to waste more time. If she went home, she rationalised, then she would have to face the fact that Emily really had decided to go and see Kate. Deep down she knows her jealousy comes two-fold; on one hand, she doesn’t want to lose her best friend to someone else who wants to know her better. And secondly–Well, she believes that is simple, raw jealousy in its purest form. 

“Who doesn’t Mary like now?” She asks and Elizabeth hesitates. Sue doesn’t mention that she’s definitely wearing clothes from last night because they all know that she is, and the conversation would be callous just for the sake of putting the attention on her friend instead of the subject she absolutely knows they’re discussing. “Emily?”

“I said I wasn’t sure,” Mary defends but she doesn’t deny it and Sue bristles. “I don’t know. It was just a vibe I got from her.”

“Mary –”

“What vibe?” Sue cuts Elizabeth off and she puts her hands on her hips as though scolding a child. Emily had been nothing but polite and thankful for Mary and Elizabeth giving up part of their space for her to stay. “Did she say something to you?”

“Well. No. But –”

“But nothing. She either said something to you to make you dislike her or she didn’t.”

“I mean, Sue. I don’t think it’s that cut and dry,” Elizabeth tries and she doesn’t back down when Sue cuts her with a sharp glare. She does pause for a moment and give Sue the time to come back down from the defensive and she gestures at Mary. “I think that maybe Mary and Emily have clashing personalities, that’s all. It’s not a negative thing for either of them. Besides, Mary’s opinion of Emily isn’t going to change yours is it?”

“No. Of course not,” Sue scoffs. “But –”

“Then what does it matter?” Elizabeth shrugs and Sue deflates back a little but she still refuses to look at Mary.  She isn’t sure why she’s so defensive of Emily but she knows she won’t back down, not yet. “I, for one, enjoyed her company. She was a delight. Mary didn’t. Who cares?”

Sue blinks a few times before she nods, relenting a little. It isn’t the first time she’s defended Emily but usually it is against her family. She lets it go and they go about their morning routine; Elizabeth changes into her yoga gear and Mary reads the morning newspaper with a black coffee. Sue organises her day and sips at a glass of water, already having a coffee that morning with Emily, and she leans against the wall as she looks at her two close friends. 

There isn’t a single bit of judgement between them when it comes to Sue–they barely blinked when she mentioned Sam Bowles, despite his reputation, and they both understand she has developing feelings for Emily. When it came to Austin they were understanding and caring and she licks her lips as she toes the floor with her sock-covered feet.

“I kissed Emily last night.”

“You what?”

“She has a girlfriend!” 

So, a little judgmental but she can deal with that. “I kissed Emily. When we went into my bedroom,” she says again and Elizabeth pulls herself from whatever position she’s contorted herself into and Mary turns her head to look at her. “We didn’t speak about it this morning. I thought she might bring it up because, you know, she’s Emily and she always wants to find the meaning in everything – but she didn’t. We just said goodbye and now she’s going to spend the time with her girlfriend and I’m the idiot that kissed her because, apparently, I can repress every single emotion except jealousy.”

“Oh, Sue,” Elizabeth laughs at that and she stands from her mat before moving to sit next to Mary at the small table and waits for Sue to join them. It takes a few seconds but when she does, both eyes focus on her with understanding and patience. “You think you’re repressing your emotions but trust me girl. You’re not.”

“I’m not?”

“We’ve been able to tell you’re in love with Emily before you even said anything,” Mary shrugs, like it isn’t life changing information to say it like that and Sue frowns. “Maybe that’s why I don’t like her. Because she’s either refusing to see it too or she knows it and she’s playing with you.”

“Mary!”

“Elizabeth!”

“Ignoring her ,” Elizabeth mutters. “Why did you kiss her?”

Because she’s beautiful, Sue thinks. Because she’s smart and funny and my best friend. Because I trust her more than anyone in the world and because she’ll never leave me, no matter how hard I push or how badly I act. 

“I needed to, I think,” she replies because her need for Emily outweighs the want and she sighs at that. “It didn’t really occur to me that she didn’t want me to kiss her. Sometimes she’ll – I don’t know. Sometimes I think she wants that but Emily always asks for the things she wants and she’s never asked me. So maybe. Maybe I was wrong?”

“Maybe,” Mary shrugs and she rolls her eyes at Elizabeth’s offended face. “But maybe you weren’t. Don’t get me wrong, Sue, I think you’re insanely beautiful but if you leaned in for a kiss I can assure you I’d absolutely say no.”

“Get to the point,” Sue waves, waiting for her friends to make her feel better.

“If she didn’t want you to kiss her…She would have pulled away, right?”

“Ignoring the vague issue with consent there, she kind of does hold a valid point,” Elizabeth frowns. Sue can’t help but laugh a little, as watery as it sounds, at the difference between the two girls in front of her. In a way it reminds her of Vinnie and Emily and she wonders when she started looking for pieces of the Dickinson’s wherever she went. “If Emily had kissed you while you were with Austin, what would you have done?”

“Ignored it, probably,” Sue laughs because she can’t think about Emily kissing her in her childhood bedroom. It’s kind of too much. That space is so sacred to them that if Emily was to kiss her there, if she was able to experience that there, she isn’t sure she’d ever leave. “Ran away.” 

Mary hums at that and Elizabeth squeezes at her hands as though that answers anything.

“I think you need to speak to her,” Mary says, uncharacteristically quieter than usual. She nudges at Sue’s foot with gentle encouragement. “And stop feeling guilty. She’s your best friend so she wouldn’t want you to. Just talk to her. At this point it’s kind of your only option.”

“My other option is to ignore it. We’re really good at that.”

“Talk to her,” Elizabeth says instead of acknowledging what she’s said and then taps her hand once. “Now I have another half hour left of my meditation and you’ve thrown me immediately off. Which means for me to find inner peace you’re going to have to make dinner tonight?”

“What?”

—

They manage to both address the kiss and not actually discuss it at all and Sue thinks the feeling is the equivalent of falling off of a cliff and not knowing if there’s a soft landing or rocks waiting at the bottom. 

Everything with Emily feels magnified and the discussion of that night isn’t any different. Emily leads her to the kiss with soft insistence and when they get there–it’s agreed that it simply happened and that is that. It’s so anti-climatic and unromantic that Sue is sure it meant little more than a drunken moment to Emily. 

Why she is surprised by the depths of disappointment she feels, she isn’t sure. She’d been sure that’s how Emily viewed it anyway and she knows Emily wouldn’t laugh about it behind her back or run and tell Vinnie about how gross she is, but she still feels embarrassed. 

Instead of pressing it she lets Emily talk about Austin and Jane and everyone else who isn’t them. 

Later that night she lets herself into Elizabeth’s bedroom with a bottle of Amaretto and a hollow feeling in her chest. She wonders if this is how she was supposed to feel when those adults sat in the room with her and told her that her father had died; she wonders if this is how she was supposed to feel when she broke Austin’s heart and when her aunt took her uncles side when she told her that he had said some unsavoury things one spring afternoon. 

Elizabeth says nothing when Sue tucks herself into her side and puts on the movie The Greatest Showman, despite them both disliking it, and by the time Zac Efron is running into a burning circus Sue is ready to accept that maybe Emily Dickinson may have been a contributing factor to Sue breaking her own heart. 

—

“You need to come back home, Susan.”

“I am home. I really don’t think I want to be anywhere near you or her any time soon. Why call now?”

“Your aunt has died.”

—

Austin tries, he plays songs that he knows she likes and he jokes about the Mustang being too small to hold all of her luggage and her favourite person. 

Lavinia tries, she lets Sue know she can consult her cards whenever she would like and she talks in a soft, soothing way that would be absolutely jarring if it wasn’t Vinnie. 

Emily tries.

—

There isn’t really a point in denying how much she needs Emily when she feels so absolutely numb. When Sue requests that Emily hold her, every nerve ending in her body immediately calms and she sinks into the feeling of her best friend. 

“I love you,” she whispers and she thinks it might be the first honest thing she’s said in months. There isn’t a feeling she can explain that compares to being in Emily’s arms but it’s the closest she can get and she shimmies closer, pressing every available part of her against Emily and letting the soothing nature of her wash across her body. For every second that Emily’s touch sets her alight, there is another that is lulled into stability. “Thank you. I love you.”

She says it twice, on purpose, so that if Emily was to ever miss a moment that she says it then it will always be followed by another. There’s no point defining how she means it, how deep the love actually is, and when Emily replies she knows it’s mutual anyway.

—

“You’re expected to be at the Williamson Solicitors on Monday at ten. I don’t understand why you’re struggling to understand that, Susan. Aren’t you supposed to be clever ?” 

Her uncle's voice sends shivers down her spine even now and she regrets calling him as soon as she had dialled his number. An email lay on her laptop, requesting her presence at a will reading, and she was sure she didn’t know why. To her knowledge her aunt was unlikely to leave her a single thing–maybe a note describing how much of a disappointment it was to raise her–and the request makes her uneasy. 

Without responding Sue hangs up the call and looks at Emily who is jotting down various words as they come to her. Beneath her thighs the grass stabs into her skin like little needles and she wonders how much offence Mrs. Dickinson would take it if she let her know that their garden needed a little attention. She’s still smiling at the reaction in her mind when Emily looks at her curiously and she shrugs at her, telling her wordlessly to not ask. 

“Nobody told me death would be so complicated.”

“I’ve been telling you for years,” Emily says, as dramatic as ever and with a smile so beautiful that for a second Sue doesn’t really know what to say. “He’s very misunderstood, you know?”

“Death?”

“Yup,” she nods firmly. It just makes Sue smile, despite the topic, and she finds herself softening under the warm sun and the presence of Emily. “He’s complicated and confusing and beautiful. Kind of like you.”

At that Sue blinks. Emily has given her hundreds of compliments over the years, thousands if her gifting her poetry is to be included too, but she can’t recall a time she’s ever been called beautiful by her. She thinks maybe she has been but her heart tugs as she fails to remember. Her mouth opens to reply but Emily is already bounding forward, full of energy and excitement to cover up her worry for Sue, and Sue stands as Emily does.

“You should come and see the conservatory. I don’t think you have yet, have you?”

“No. Not yet.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Emily exclaims and Sue laughs at the display. “Come on, Gilbert. Eden awaits.”

—

Eden, as it turns out, is a conservatory at the back of the Homestead. 

Of course Mr Dickinson had spared no expense for his daughter's new hyper fixation but Sue is still astounded by Emily’s work. She recalls that it was Kate who got her into it and gave her an appreciation for it and Sue thinks that if she was a better woman, a bigger woman, she’d say thank you to her. 

When Emily dismisses her for all the good she does for Sue, she decides to return the favour. Emily’s hand is on her jaw and she can feel the hammering of her heart in her chest. Somewhere in the back of her mind she tries to remind herself of Kate but it's difficult and she breathes deeper. 

She looks into Emily’s eyes when she says, “You’re something beautiful, Emily Dickinson, did you know that?”

—

Later that night, when Sue brings Emily to climax, she decides Eden isn’t at all behind the house. It’s right there beneath her fingertips.

—

Emily falls asleep before Sue, sated and satisfied and with so much trust that Sue will hold her that she doesn’t even ask. She sleeps with her head against Sue’s chest and Sue wraps herself around Emily, needing to be as close to her as possible. There isn’t a doubt in her mind that she won’t replay the way Emily came apart again and again in her mind; the sounds, her movements, the way she said her name and kissed her wantonly and without guilt.  

She can still feel Emily shake against her and she presses her thighs together. She’d promised that Emily didn’t need to touch her but she’s scared this is potentially the first and only time they will do this and she wants the feeling, she needs something to store, and she swallows the guilt. 

With a soft turn she moves Emily onto her side and presses her lips against the side of her neck, kissing slowly until she feels Emily shift beneath her and slowly wake. When she moans softly Sue’s stomach tightens with want and she ignores everything else that this could mean.

She ignores that she’s grieving and that Emily just wants to help and that she told herself if she ever kissed Emily in her bedroom, their space, that she’d never be able to leave. In the morning she knows she will have to leave, that she has a life and responsibilities elsewhere, and she ignores how terrified she is that this will become another thing they don’t talk about. She ignores that Emily has Kate and that Sue will never come back to Amherst and that Emily will probably never leave.

Instead of any of that she focuses on the soft way Emily curls her hand around Sue’s neck and presses her best friend harder into her skin, arching her own neck to meet Sue’s lips and Sue’s eyes almost roll back into her head at the easy way they move.

“Sue –”

“I’m here.”

“Again?”

She knows it’s a terrible idea, she knows that eventually she’ll go back to New Haven and she’ll make more stupid decisions that end in her heart cracking and Emily miles away, but she isn’t going to stop. There isn’t a singular force that can make her.

“Touch me this time,” she begs and Emily doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t wait, and Sue moves with her onto her back and lets herself surrender beneath her friend's touch. 

—

The next morning, Sue dresses before Emily has even awoken and she goes to the solicitors with Emily’s father and presses her fingers against the bruises that paint her thighs.

She smiles.