Page 30 of Drown Like Heaven
My Unit Ops work was spread out on the table, and I was marking up my printed copy of the lab procedure for the polymers lab, making sure I understood the steps, underlining and circling vital information, adding little notes. I’d found that doing this usually made me a bit more comfortable in the lab, which I needed. I wasn’t usually loud enough to ask questions.
The yellow pendant lamp over my head cast golden light on the table, filtering softly on my printed packet. I could hear food sizzling in the kitchen, plates clanking together, a receipt beingtorn off the roll. A car pulled out of the parking lot in front, turn signal blinking as it left the crumbling parking lot. It was a cute place. None of the people in here had a clue how much my life had changed the last time I’d stepped foot inside.
I remembered myself in the bathroom, anxious anticipation making me tremble. My air-dried ocean hair, my smudged makeup, Mason’s big sweatshirt, the sound of my name on his tongue ricocheting in my skull. I’d knownsomethingwas going to happen, but at the time, I hadn’t knownwhat.
Mason was a fear I could touch.
I craved that.
Suffocating me through an orgasm.
An older man stepped up to the counter, catching my attention from the corner of my eye, and I turned to discreetly watch him speaking with a waitress in a calm, measured tone. Polite, steady. There was a tiny flicker of fascination in my brain. I didn’t consider myself to haveDaddyissues necessarily…but there was certainly something inside me that craved approval from men like that. Authority figures, men that peoplelistenedto.
The opposite of the wild instability I felt with Mason.
I turned back to my lab procedure, silently wishing for that sort of authoritative stability for the millionth time in my life. There were two sides of me; the messy, reckless part, and the part that wanted to be held. Usually I led with self-destruction; vulnerability wasn’t something I was comfortable showing.
My coffee was still hot as I stirred in all the creamers, my spoon clinking against the sides of the mug. Other, worse thoughts tugged at the back of my brain.
Things Ireallydidn’t want to think about. Not here, at least.
I sipped my coffee as fast as I could without burning myself, put some money on the table, then left the diner while the familiar bad feeling began to settle over me like a blanket.
?????
I popped a piece of mint gum in my mouth and tried to shake out the anticipation tightening my muscles. My skirt was short and tight, my top showing off my stomach and low-cut enough that I couldn’t wear a bra. Not that I really needed one.
I took a deep breath, staring at myself in the shitty mirror above my shitty sink in the shitty bathroom light. My eyes were still a little bit red, but it hopefully wasn’t too noticeable now that I’d put makeup on. I didn’t know why some days were worse than others, but that’s just the way it was. Some days, I was right back there, in that other trailer, years in the past, feeling his skin on mine.
I hate myself.
Taking a deep breath, I gripped the edges of the sink while I released a shaky exhale.
There wasn’t a single way I could have any of those memories in my head without feeling so terrible about it that I wanted to curl up in a ball and dissolve into nonexistence. I’d gone to one, singular therapy session after everything ended, but I’d need years of sessions to ever get over it. I knew that. I just couldn’t afford it.
It wasn’t like there was an abrupt ending either. Everything just…fizzled out.
Leaving me more broken and confused than before.
My brain didn’t like that.
There was a lot of relief when he left, but also a lot more depression than I wanted anyone to know. Because sometimes it felt like he was the only person that ever saw me, or caredenough about me to want the problems, the messy stuff.He is the messy stuff. All of it is because of him. Don’t forget that. Don’t let yourself miss him for one goddamn second.
Mila knew some of it, knew some of the reason I was so fucked up, but even that was difficult to talk to her about.
I flicked off the bathroom light and stomped out into the hall, the thick soles of my boots heavy on the carpet, my hair swishing long and loose down to my ass—almost like a safety blanket. I liked the feeling of it brushing the bare skin on my back, liked letting it fall around my shoulders or face, liked feeling the blunt ends with my fingertips at my hipbones.
Grabbing my bag and my phone, I pushed out the front door, locking it behind me. The sky was already most of the way dark, a few stars twinkling above the park, dark trees silhouetted against the indigo nighttime.
I plopped myself down on the top step leading up to my trailer and wrapped my arms around myself, bending forward to rest my chest on my knees while I waited for Mila’s yellowed headlights to come bouncing around the corner. A cool breeze tickled my skin and lifted a few strands of hair around my face; I tucked them back behind my ears.
Somewhere to my left, I heard shuffling footsteps, then the flick of a lighter. One of my neighbors. Cigarette smoke puffed out of his mouth and curled into the darkening arc of the sky, the cloud illuminated by the dirty yellow light beside his door. I could see a few dark spots inside the plastic of the lamp—bugs, probably. My porch light was the same.
He didn’t seem to notice me, though, because my light was off.
My phone buzzed and I grabbed it out of my purse, the keychains I’d clipped onto the leather strap jingling together as I did.
Mila :I’m about to pull up
