Chapter One: Round the Bend — Part 9

When Jynx leaves the dark tent, she has to take a moment to let her eyes adjust. Still blinded, she grabs ChoCho’s pack and blanket from its resting place on the ground next to the entrance. Slowly the white glare settles, and Jynx looks about for her girl. Jude has become her replacement. Working at the cutting board, chopping up something green, he seems quite adept with a knife. Daria has finished helping Heath, apparently, and it takes a moment for Jynx to find her, because she has put herself on the other side of the tent, probably to try to avoid being called back to help. Daria is settled on her back, stretched out full-length lawn chair, enjoying a nap in the sun. Jynx targets her, waking Daria with a practiced and restrained nudge of her foot. Daria looks up, and is suddenly concerned. Jynx doesn’t look happy, and Daria knows she’s in trouble. Though she at first suspects that it might be related to the last time the two made out, as at that time Daria put fingers in places Jynx would normally prefer remain finger free, such concern becomes secondary as she sees the dull gray linen handkerchief marked by time and worn by a now absent cord, still wrapped around something important. Daria is curious.

“Come girl, we need to talk, in private.” Jynx says sharply.

“Oh it’s girl, now, is it?” Daria says, sitting up slowly, still a little groggy from her nap.

Daria winces as Jynx firmly takes her hand and pulls her into a stand, much as one would a disobedient child, and pulls her out of camp. It isn’t so much from pain as from the realization that Jynx, though currently reserved, is undoubtedly in a state bordering on cold rage. Jynx, after all, is usually respectfully submissive toward Daria. Daria thinks it’s best to pay careful lip service in this case, especially since she doesn’t know why Jynx is looking for blood. Whatever Jynx is upset about, whatever she is thinking, it is best to remember that it will blow over, and keep that in mind, Daria thinks. Arguing with an angry Jynx, Daria knows, is futile anyway, so even if her thoughts are wrong, such thoughts are ultimately irrelevant.

Once they are far away from camp and well out of earshot, Jynx throws down the blanket and urges Daria to settle. She then walks around the blanket, picking up stones and piling them on the blanket. They aren’t large stones, the largest one is no bigger than a wine cork, but they seem heavy enough to hurt if thrown at her, so Daria stays quiet. Apparently finished with her pile of stones, Jynx steps onto the blanket, patting Daria on the head a few times before settling across from her, the stones on her left. Calming her mind, Jynx assesses her distance from Daria, a foot and a half of blanket sits between them, when measuring from knee to knee. Jynx sets the bundle between them, taking a deep breath, she seems to be considering the package, gathering her thoughts. Jynx sits for maybe forty seconds more, and then her head snaps up, and her expression is both completely understood and totally uninterpretable at the same time. The look is stern, possibly condescending, and Daria, defiant and used to being in charge, will not look away. Jynx glares at her until Daria’s cheeks turn red, whether with genuine passion, rage, embarrassment, or lust, Jynx does not know. She suspects that it is a mix of the second and the last, as both genuine passion and embarrassment require a depth of character that is simply lacking in Daria.

“So, sugarpack, what kind of shiny do you have in your precious little package?” Daria asks, sounding too much like Heath for comfort.

Jynx takes a deep breath, putting her anger in check. Daria is crazy like that. She can absorb almost any vocal pattern and personality she’s exposed to, becoming that person seemingly by resonance, almost like she’s a Tesla coil receiving a signal from its twin. The fact that she isn’t always conscious of it, even when she is trying to use it to protect herself from verbal and emotional attack, makes Jynx want to smack the Heath, or Joe, or whoever else Daria decides to reflect, right out of her. Jynx decides, in the moment, that she is spending too much energy controlling her temper.

“There ain’t nothing shiny in here. What I’m showing you is a punishment, woman.” Jynx says this and waits until Daria’s smile falters, and Jynx nods, “I think you’re finally getting it.”

Jynx opens the worn linen, and exposes what looks to be the backside of a bundle of photographs. The top one has yellowed a little, as if it is several years old. Jynx sets the small photo onto the blanket face down, like a fortuneteller with a deck of cards. There are twenty-two of them, and now they are set in two rows of eleven, a small stone placed on the center of each of them. The one on the bottom row, which is placed last, and which is also closest to Daria’s right foot, looks the freshest, with each print set down before it fading slowly back to the yellowed ivory of the first. There can be no doubt that there is a chronological arrangement to the collection. Jynx pauses, not for effect, but because she is considering something, maybe bracing herself, not knowing how Daria will react, and preparing herself for any unpredictable thing Daria might do. Daria tries to reach for the last picture in the set, and Jynx slaps her reflexively. Daria yelps, puts her hand to her mouth, certain Jynx has bruised her. Daria doesn’t know if it is good or bad that the hit isn’t synchronous with a growl.

How much, Daria wonders, is Jynx holding back?

“Do I have your attention?” Jynx asks politely.

“Yes.” Daria says, putting her hands in her lap, eyes now focused entirely on the prints.

“This is important.” Jynx says, reaching for the first.