Page 28 of Desert King

“Unbelievable.” I mutter, crossing the floor and slamming the door shut. I slip the chain lock in place and try not to cry.

I sit alone on an empty box feeling the vast loneliness of my life wash over me. Some fresh start. I should just go back home. At least I was loved there.

My cheek’s swelling. I get up, eyeing myself in the mirror. My almost beautiful face is a mess of smeared makeup and wild bed hair. It was just a mask. Underneath I feel ugly. Ugly, mousy me.

“Shit!” I kick a box over. “Arghhh!” I sweep an arm out, knocking all the picture frames over I had started to set out. Picking up my forgotten about food. I reheat it in the microwave, drink the rest of my wine straight from the bottle and decide. Will I run back into my hole and hide? Or can I make a stand against that weird beautiful bitch and her clan of bastards? Pacing around the two small rooms, I search my heart for the answer when my eyes land on deep purple. Twisted in the sheets are my words. The ones I wrote down when I was at the most vulnerable point in my life.

Sinking down, I open the page she had folded over.

I’ve been called many names. But survivor was never one of them. I’m determined to add it to the top of the list. I’ve been depressed and lost for so long that when I first got sick, part of me was relieved. Relieved to maybe just let go. But now that I’ve survived and am off the respirator, all I crave is to bust out of these sterile walls and fly free. I’ve wasted all the good days. I wish I could take them back. Countless sunny days filled with blue skies that I took for granted, too lost inside my own spinning globe of self-pity to realize I had the world in my hands the whole time.

I want a bad romance and then a great one. I want a life filled with purpose and meaning not one where you just drift through. I want to lift my face to the brightest sunny day and not waste it.

Dan was on third shift last night. I blushed when he held the cool, damp cloth over my heated skin. The fever was coming back despite my meds and he thought that he was helping. Instead he only made me hotter. I was moaning in pain. So much pain, and when he squeezed the cloth, letting the cool water fall on my skin and run down my naked breasts under my thin, cotton gown, I almost came off the bed. He thinks it’s all the virus, but I have the hots for him. My thighs were sticky and wet. I swear he knew what he was about. Through his mask and protective glasses, I saw the wicked gleam in his eyes when he asked, “What can I do to make you feel better?”

His scrubs were stretched tight over his biceps. My mouth was dry. He fed me ice chips and I ached to bite down on his gloved finger. Even through all his protective gear, I could see he was hot and bothered too.

“Damn, baby, test negative.” The plea fell from his sexy lips.

I sighed, feeling my insides combust. I was covered in sweat and lust. When he placed the last ice chip in my mouth, I sucked on the tip of his gloved finger…

Beep. Beep. Beep. My IV drip was out, the machine was making noises. I was all alone. Did I pass out? Fall asleep?

Dan was nowhere to be seen. Did it happen? Was it the drugs? The fever? The virus? The doctors had said other patients were having vivid hallucinations. I chalked it up to that. But then the day I was discharged when Dan wheeled me down the halls through the cheers and clapping of his peers, he bent low against my ear, “I knew you’d test negative baby. I’ll hit you up.”

Boy did I want him to do just that. But Dan forgot about me. Or maybe he just met someone else. Either way he gave me a glimpse of all the passion in life I had been missing.

No wonder Regan jumped me. My own words make me feel horny. I fan myself, grab an ice water and make a plan. I’m not going back when I’ve done so much to move forward.

I stuff my things back into bags and boxes, take a lukewarm shower, and stare out at the stars from the window by the bed. Tomorrow the sun will rise, and I will lift my face to the new sunny day just like I promised myself, I would.

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