Page 9 of Deliverance

She nods and grabs her purse before slipping out my door. As soon as she leaves, I feel my smile begin to fall as a sourness takes over my stomach. It probably sounds so cliché, but I think I’m getting a little sick of one night stands. It’s just always the same song and dance. It would be nice to have something a little more…I don’t know. Lasting? I guess.

Shrugging my shoulders, I decide I need to decompress a little. I begin grabbing all my supplies that have been packed away and start spreading them out across the room. I already set up my table a few days ago, but I haven’t had time to find a permanent spot for everything just yet. Though, in a room this size, it takes no time at all.

Cranking up my music, I get lost in the rhythm of it all. Melting the wax, placing the wicks, pouring it into molds. Repeat.

I don’t know exactly how I got into candlemaking. My dad always had these cool, obscure candles that were passed down from his family, and then one day, we were making them together. Sometimes, I just make jar or tin candles, but I really enjoy making unique shapes and colors. There is so much beauty in it, so much peace. It may seem like an odd hobby to have, but what can I say? I’m not very athletic, and my idea of art outside of candle wax is stick figures and a crescent shaped sun at the top of a paper.

Rifling through my essential oils, I pause when I find an old label. For a little while, my dad and I would make these ridiculous labels for the candles and give them as gifts. This one, in particular, resulted in me literally peeing my pants when he gave it to me three Christmases ago. My thumb rubs against the white label with black lettering that reads ‘Smells like chloroform…go ahead, take a whiff.’

A sad smile touches my mouth as my eyes water. I miss that fucker so much. He was the only person I ever truly loved in this world, the only one who truly loved me. Then he had to go and fucking die on me.

I told him for years he had to watch his cholesterol, that he was an old man and needed to be careful, but he didn’t listen. He’d tease me for mothering him and tell me he would be around for a long time. Those three clogged arteries begged to differ. He was here and gone faster than I could take a breath. My world stopped, but my mother somehow managed to keep trucking along. Don’t get me wrong, she was definitely upset, but I think it was more over losing her financial stability than my father no longer being on this earth.

Growing up in the Brethren, we are raised Puritan, which is basically an extremist version of Catholicism. Though I don’t buy everything they shove down our throats, I know that he’s in heaven watching over me. I just wish he didn’t have to watch from so goddamn far away.

Blinking away my building tears, I shake my head and set the label to the side, and I start a new set of candles. I found these cool geode molds online the other day, so I figured it was worth a try.

I pour a mix of blue and purple swirls into the mold before setting them to the side to let them set. When I blink out of my weird candlemaking haze, I realize that it’s already the late afternoon, and I’m still in my pajamas. Jesus.

Moving to my bathroom, I decide to take a quick shower and maybe get changed into some actual clothes for the day, even if I’ll be putting pajamas back on in a few hours. God, how pathetic am I? Twenty one years old, on summer break acting like an old lady rising at the ass crack of dawn, eating, making candles, and then planning to be in bed by eight thirty. That’s what you get for being a friendless loser, I guess.

Kidding.

Kinda.

I decide to order some Chinese food before heading downstairs and watching a movie. The Brenton’s have a home theater, but I’ve never been all too impressed with those, so I opt for the living room. Turning on the TV, I scroll for a movie before settling onThe Conjuring.

I’m a total horror movie junkie. Bad, cheesy crap or good heart palpitating thriller vibes, I love them all. So, naturally, I’m completely sucked in despite seeing this movie a hundred times and I’m waiting for the next jump scare when the front door opens. I practically launch out of my seat as Bridgette steps in through the door.

“Jesus!” I say as I cover my hand over my beating heart.

She frowns at me.

“What’s wrong with you?”

“This movie gets me every fucking time.” I laugh and shake my head.

Bridgette looks to the screen and wrinkles her nose.

“These movies are so stupid.”

Andddd bitchy Bridgette is back.

“You have a good time with your friends?” I ask.

She frowns. “How did you know I was with them?”

“Well, you’re back to being a bitch. I can only assume that means you were hanging out with them. You’re not nearly as cunty when you get laid.”

She crosses her arms over her chest with an exaggerated glare. “How exactly do you know when I do or don’t get laid?”

I look at her lazily over my shoulder as I smirk. “Woman’s intuition.”

“Hard to get laid when Asher is with Kelly fucking Smith. I saw her story earlier,” she practically snarls.

I stick my bottom lip out and whine with her.

“Aw, poor baby B didn’t get her douchebag dick for the night.”

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