luggage in Mikey’s old bedroom and you can change in there,” Elaine explains. She reachesfor my face and brushes my wet hair behind one ear.
“You really look like your mother when your hair goes dark like this,” she adds. I want to hear more. Need to hear more.
“Thank you,” I answer , unable to ask for what my heart wants . Words are hard right now. Three years away from home , then losing my dad, makes these connections so difficult. I spent three years severing my life and now Iha ve to face what I cut.
It feels about as good as you would think.
The click of the bathroom door as Elaine slips out makes me feel like this is final. I am here. I can’t back out. T wo more days and I start my new job.
Amy . I need to talk to my friend. She can ground me and fill me in on how to salvage my life.
Starting a new one is impossible. Not here. Not with so many ghosts.
What wasI thinking?
As I undress I think about the letter in my purse. The offer for a full-time job came a month ago, out of the blue. A complete shock. I was staring at a pile of bills from dad’s funeral. Something other than a bill in the mail was a bittersweet event. Yates University stationery made me catch my breath.
My alma mater. Well, not quite. Is it your alma mater if you drop out and nevergraduate?
The letter was an invitation to interview, by phone, as a preliminary candidate for a job as Program Coordinator in the dean’s office. The dean of arts and sciences.
I turn on the shower and steam begins to fill the room. My face in the mirror is almost unrecognizable. My blond hair is dark and stringy, clinging to my cheeks. Eyes that are normally so guarded look haunted by emotion.Three years of staying away from all the people who betrayed me should have taught me something.
Should have made me smarter. Harder. Colder.
Brian and Elaine make that so difficult. They’re loving and warm and remind me of every part of my life that I had Before .
Life is divided into two parts now: Before and After .
As I literally peel my wet clothes off, my fingers touch my arms whereMark’s hands have just been. I close my eyes and imagine him standing before me. My t-shirt sticks to my breasts and I edge my fingers over the v-neck. The slide of wet cloth against my nipples reminds me of his mouth. We’d gone nice and slow, four years ago, when we started dating. His mouth only roamed from mine in the last intimate moment we’d had before he...
Before .
A long, slow sigh fillsme. I forget to exhale. My jeans put up a battle in my undressing, catching at the ankles. I fall and grab the tub’s edge. My butt tumbles onto the thick little bathroom area rug. The color is a princess pink that reminds me of my old bedroom. When I was little, living with Dad and when my mother was still alive.
That’s like double B efore .
Frustration fills me as the feel of Mark’s arms aroundme on the wet side of the road twist s in my mind. My body is on fire now, even when it’s wet and cold.
He had to be the first person I saw, didn’t he? Why? I don’t believe in fate. I don’t believe in destiny. I don’t believe in soulmates.
Pain? That I can believe in. Betrayal and deception and lies are real, too.
Fate is just another lie.
The hot shower spray shocks me, pin-pricking my skin.It’s like cold and hot have decided to duke it out on my body . Slowly, hot wins. Thank goodness, too. As I shiver and my hands turn pink, I realize how frozen I was.
Even on a hot, late-August night in a sweltering southern California summer.
Elaine has al l the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash a person could need for the next five years. I smile. She still shops at the big warehouse club two towns away and probably drags Brian there once a month. Elaine would buy ninety-six popsicles in a single box. Twenty-pound blocks of feta cheese. Laundry detergent containers that, when empty, could be a small child’s fort.
Dad always marveled at it. Said with it
“You really look like your mother when your hair goes dark like this,” she adds. I want to hear more. Need to hear more.
“Thank you,” I answer , unable to ask for what my heart wants . Words are hard right now. Three years away from home , then losing my dad, makes these connections so difficult. I spent three years severing my life and now Iha ve to face what I cut.
It feels about as good as you would think.
The click of the bathroom door as Elaine slips out makes me feel like this is final. I am here. I can’t back out. T wo more days and I start my new job.
Amy . I need to talk to my friend. She can ground me and fill me in on how to salvage my life.
Starting a new one is impossible. Not here. Not with so many ghosts.
What wasI thinking?
As I undress I think about the letter in my purse. The offer for a full-time job came a month ago, out of the blue. A complete shock. I was staring at a pile of bills from dad’s funeral. Something other than a bill in the mail was a bittersweet event. Yates University stationery made me catch my breath.
My alma mater. Well, not quite. Is it your alma mater if you drop out and nevergraduate?
The letter was an invitation to interview, by phone, as a preliminary candidate for a job as Program Coordinator in the dean’s office. The dean of arts and sciences.
I turn on the shower and steam begins to fill the room. My face in the mirror is almost unrecognizable. My blond hair is dark and stringy, clinging to my cheeks. Eyes that are normally so guarded look haunted by emotion.Three years of staying away from all the people who betrayed me should have taught me something.
Should have made me smarter. Harder. Colder.
Brian and Elaine make that so difficult. They’re loving and warm and remind me of every part of my life that I had Before .
Life is divided into two parts now: Before and After .
As I literally peel my wet clothes off, my fingers touch my arms whereMark’s hands have just been. I close my eyes and imagine him standing before me. My t-shirt sticks to my breasts and I edge my fingers over the v-neck. The slide of wet cloth against my nipples reminds me of his mouth. We’d gone nice and slow, four years ago, when we started dating. His mouth only roamed from mine in the last intimate moment we’d had before he...
Before .
A long, slow sigh fillsme. I forget to exhale. My jeans put up a battle in my undressing, catching at the ankles. I fall and grab the tub’s edge. My butt tumbles onto the thick little bathroom area rug. The color is a princess pink that reminds me of my old bedroom. When I was little, living with Dad and when my mother was still alive.
That’s like double B efore .
Frustration fills me as the feel of Mark’s arms aroundme on the wet side of the road twist s in my mind. My body is on fire now, even when it’s wet and cold.
He had to be the first person I saw, didn’t he? Why? I don’t believe in fate. I don’t believe in destiny. I don’t believe in soulmates.
Pain? That I can believe in. Betrayal and deception and lies are real, too.
Fate is just another lie.
The hot shower spray shocks me, pin-pricking my skin.It’s like cold and hot have decided to duke it out on my body . Slowly, hot wins. Thank goodness, too. As I shiver and my hands turn pink, I realize how frozen I was.
Even on a hot, late-August night in a sweltering southern California summer.
Elaine has al l the shampoo, conditioner, and body wash a person could need for the next five years. I smile. She still shops at the big warehouse club two towns away and probably drags Brian there once a month. Elaine would buy ninety-six popsicles in a single box. Twenty-pound blocks of feta cheese. Laundry detergent containers that, when empty, could be a small child’s fort.
Dad always marveled at it. Said with it
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