I took my love, I took it down

Climbed a mountain and I turned around

And I saw my reflection in the snow-covered hills

Till the landslide brought me down

The white picket fence around Jennie’s yard looked gray next to the snow that had blanketed the whole state overnight. And there was the pop of hot fuschia like paint on paper—Sheila’s jacket as she crunched through the snow towards Jennie’s house. “She’s here!” Jennie yelled. Before her mom was out the door, she and Sheila barreled into each other, shrieking, as if they didn’t see each other every day in fifth-grade homeroom.

Jennie’s toboggan was heavy in her arms and her legs burned climbing the nearby sledding hills, but hurtling down neck-and-neck with Sheila was more than worth it. They built forts, made angels, fed each other snow whose cold bite made them gasp.

Then Sheila’s mom called “Girls!”, and Sheila groaned. “It’s so cold, honey. We’ve got to go.” It had barely been an hour. And it wasn’t that cold.

But Sheila’s parents wouldn’t budge. She gathered her things, scowling. Jennie, though, couldn’t bring herself to leave, and lied, “Mom said I could stay out.”

“Did she?” said Sheila’s dad, looking dubious. But Jennie nodded so earnestly that he and his wife appeared convinced. “Just be careful, then.” Jennie hugged a jealously grinning Sheila and watched her go, and then she was alone and free.

She threw snowballs at nothing. She sucked icicles like lollipops. She flopped onto the snow and rolled down the hill, faster and faster, the world disappearing—and then she wasn’t moving anymore.

She was half-buried in a snowdrift she had gathered on her path down. Jennie kicked to escape, but her legs were trapped. She was alone. What if she couldn’t get out? What if it buried her head and she suffocated? What if—

She breathed deep.

With the one hand she could really move, Jennie scrabbled at the snow around her. It gave, just a bit. Little by little, she carved her way out of the snowdrift and to freedom.

There was something exhilarating about getting into trouble and out again all by herself. Jennie whooped in celebration of nothing in particular, the sound echoing around the hills. She felt more powerful than she ever had.

Oh, mirror in the sky, what is love?

Can the child within my heart rise above?

Can I sail through the changing ocean tides?

Can I handle the seasons of my life?

“It’s okay, baby,” Jennie’s mom said to her again, pressing a cup of water into her hands. “People can be awful. Especially in high school.”

“But Sheila?” Jennie muttered. “How—” She sipped her water, blinking against the tears threatening to return. “And for the stupidest reason—”

“So stupid. Rumors. Ridiculous rumors. This is why you should never believe—.”

Jennie groaned in frustration. “It wasn’t me who was believing rumors, Mom! It wasn’t me who—”

“Okay, okay!” Her mom sighed. “Am I just making everything worse?”

There was no good way to answer that question. Jennie put her face in her hands. Her mom rubbed her shoulders, kissed her head, and left, shutting Jennie’s bedroom door softly. She was doing her best.

At least Sheila had been upfront about it. Well, not when she had first started avoiding Jennie, at the beginning of junior year, but today when Jennie had confronted her. “I just don’t wanna be stuck,” Sheila had said, eyes on the ground. “It’s high school. This is when we, like… decide who we wanna be.”

“And who you wanna be is not my friend?” Jennie had retorted.

“It’s not you! It’s—I’m only ever gonna be the kid with the gay friend! Remember when Maya’s brother came out and no one talked to her for—”

“But he actually was gay! I’m—”

“Are you?” Sheila had said then. It was the first time she, or anyone, had actually asked outright.

Jennie scoffed. “It’s just a rumor—”

“Yeah, but is it true?”

Jennie had said some kind of no, but even if Sheila believed her, it wouldn’t have mattered. Once the idea got around, Sheila had to choose between their friendship and her reputation. Jennie couldn’t fully blame her for choosing the latter.

Still, she was blazing with rage and shame and despair. And she thought about the times she had seen Pride marches and felt an inexplicable glow inside, or heard Indigo Girls songs and thought they felt like coming home. And the times she’d stared at Sheila’s hair, her eyes, the dimple in her right cheek—

In her bedroom window, Jennie’s face stared back at her, the face of someone she didn’t know.

Once everything had been easier. Once they had been two little girls with nothing between them, the whole world laid out before them, the sky wide and clear and answering everything they asked of it. Now Jennie looked out her window and the sky showed her no answers.

I’ve been afraid of changing

‘Cause I’ve built my life around you

But time makes you bolder, even children get older

And I’m getting older, too

Jennie didn’t mind having nothing special to do the night before her twenty-first birthday. She was curling up in bed when her phone buzzed. She checked it. Her breath caught.

Being in practically every memory from most of Jennie’s life, Sheila was never far from her thoughts. But they hadn’t spoken in four years. Yet there was Sheila’s name and Just wanted to say happy birthday with a purple heart emoji. Jennie hesitated.

Thanks so much, she texted back, with a heart matching Sheila’s. A long, anxious moment. Then three pulsing dots appeared.

How’re u doing?

After some thought, Jennie replied Okay, then A little nervous about the big 21, and then Wbu?

It was small talk for a while, courteous and cautious, never mentioning high school. And then, without deciding to, Jennie texted Wanna get dinner?

A minute, then the three dots. They pulsed for ages.

Sure!

Jennie’s heart skipped a beat. She suggested some diner, Sheila agreed, and then Jennie was hurrying there and sitting at a table for two and the bell on the door tinkled and in walked—

She was different. She was wearing a polka dot dress—she had used to hate patterns—and her eyeliner was sharper than Jennie had ever seen it. But she was also the same. There was the same dimple in her right cheek, because she was smiling.

Still. It was awkward. Of course it was awkward. To break one especially awkward silence, Jennie remarked, “I should mention, I was gay after all,” and Sheila burst out laughing, which made Jennie do the same. Maybe it was just funny because with her undercut and rainbow fidget ring and Sappho tattoo, it wasn’t like Jennie hid it nowadays. But the laughter seemed to mend something. When they left the diner, the air between them was more comfortable.

As they waited for a light to turn, Sheila said, “I miss you.”

Jennie swallowed. “I miss you too.”

“Even though—?”

“Yeah, but…” The light changed, and as they crossed the street, Jennie worked out what she was trying to say. “You were always there. And then we grew up, and things get ugly when you grow up, and since you haven’t been there—just—what do I do with my life when the person who’s always been in it is gone?”

Sheila didn’t answer. Her shoulder brushed Jennie’s. “I felt the same, you know,” she said. “I mean, I—I still do.”

Jennie offered her a small smile. “Well, I’m back now.”

“Me too,” Sheila said, and she suddenly grabbed Jennie’s hand and squeezed. “Me too.”

She held Jennie’s hand longer than was really necessary, and they both blushed. They walked on, Jennie counting down the minutes till she turned twenty-one and became a real grown-up forever. But with Sheila by her side again, neither that nor anything else was nearly as frightening anymore.

Take my love, take it down

Climb a mountain and turn around

And if you see my reflection in the snow-covered hills

Well, the landslide will bring it down

“Remember when we would go sledding here?” Jennie said, staring out over the hills, as white with snow as they had ever been. Sheila nodded. “We were so little.”

“And now you’re so big.” Sheila nudged Jennie with a half-smile. “Off into the world.”

Jennie chewed her tongue. The snow and the hills and the sweet girl beside her couldn’t dissolve the knot in her stomach. She leaned her head on Sheila’s shoulder.

“You’ve always wanted to get out of here,” murmured Sheila.

“But this is all I know.”

“You’re gonna know so much more. And it’s gonna be amazing.”

Sheila was right—Jennie moving out tomorrow meant freedom. It was her dream. And Sheila’s too; they had plans for Sheila to join her. But the world could have different plans than you did.

“Some of me is always gonna stay here, I think,” said Jennie quietly.

“You can’t help it. This is where you grew up. This is where you, like… found yourself. Found your life.”

“Found my love,” Jennie added, kissing Sheila’s cheek.

Sheila pulled Jennie closer. “Listen. Home will always be in you. You’ll always be in it. And that’s good.”

“But it’s so hard.”

Sheila sighed, her breath puffing in front of them. “You’re leaving part of you behind,” she said. “But imagine all the new parts of you that you get to discover in whatever’s next.”

They watched the sun cross the winter sky, making the snow glitter. Like diamonds, but this moment was far more precious.

“You have all my love,” Jennie said. “No matter what happens between us, no matter if whatever this is works out, you’re my home too and you have all my love.”

She let her eyes trace the slopes of the hills for the thousandth time. They found their way back to Sheila, as all of Jennie always did.

cover image by ariel paul