Page 35 of Euphoria

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“I dropped a tray,” I explained as I began haphazardly opening drawers looking for something to clean up the mess with. Finally, I found a new packet of dishcloths, and I ripped open the bag, my hands shaking.

“You dropped a tray?” she inquired, looking confused.

My head cleared enough that I recognized Bessie before me.

“I dropped a tray,” I said, air-quoting and rolling my eyes.

“I see,” she said thinly, gesturing for the cloth. “Let me handle that. You go and get some fresh air.”

“It’s fine,” I said thinly. “I can do it.”

It was fine. Blanche had told me nothing I didn’t already know.Poor little plain Jane Doe.

Bessie didn’t want to hear my excuses, so I acquiesced as she forced the cloth from my hands. “Don’t let that piece of work get you down, Jane. We’re all in this together. Take a break, and I’ll cover for you.”

My shoulders sank, and I nodded. “Thank you, Bessie.”

“Here.” She fished around in her apron pocket and pulled out a little bottle of brown spirits. With a good-natured wink, she forced it into my hand. “Get that into you.”

With that, I was ushered out the back door and into the wild outdoors beyond. Crossing the graveled driveway, I lingered in the garden, working my way around the rear of the house. Everyone was inside, so I was left well enough alone, my footsteps quiet on the path through the manicured flowerbeds.

The garden was quiet under the shadow of the west wing. The facade crumbled behind me, ensnarled by many years of torment from the climbing roses, which looked as wild as I felt. Above, the sky was gray, threatening more rain in its wake. The grass glistened with thousands of tiny droplets from the early morning showers that had doused the land around me.

Finding a quiet corner, I sat on a stone bench, relishing the silence. The air was cool against my skin, and I could feel the lingering moisture as I drew in breath after breath.

Unscrewing the cap from the tiny bottle of whiskey Bessie had given me, I sipped at the liquid. While it warmed me from the inside out and calmed my nerves a little, all I could think about was the fateful kiss that had triggered all of this pain and longing. Studying the label, I read all of the information presented and then proceeded to run my thumbnail over the edges of the sticker, peeling it away from the glass. It did nothing to soothe my spiraling mind, so I watched a tiny robin sift through the garden bed before me, scattering dirt and debris over the path.

What a simple life that tiny bird must have! I felt envious of the little creature, which was absurd! Perhaps in my next life I could request to come back as a house cat, for I was not cut out to be a human in the traditional sense of the word.

I wondered over my existence then as I was known to do when life had given me a blow. I’d been knocked on my backside, my tender heart reeling once more.

If I should die and still be as solitary as I am now, I should hope that I’ve lived a full life. Love wasn’t the be all of human existence, was it? If I could stand on my own two feet, be of sound mind and heart, and haven’t squandered the life that had been given to me on selfish pursuits, then was that enough to satisfy? Certainly, it was to some people, but was it enough for me? In my old age, would I miss the things I never had at all? Would I fear never having another to love, or would I just be disappointed when all chances had passed unfruitful? I guess I wouldn’t know until I was standing on the threshold of the next life, and by then, it would be too late.

A house cat it was.

I knew one thing, and if it was a comfort, at that moment, when my heart was delicate from its many rejections in as many weeks, I wasn’t sure. But it was something, and I held onto it like a raft in a stormy ocean.

I have lived too near the coldness of the living to be afraid of the icy fingers of death.