Page 89 of Drown Like Heaven
I needed it. I wanted it. But I couldn’t let anyone try to give it to me without lashing out.
The water on the stove was boiling now, so I wiped away my tears with the neckline of my t-shirt, then poured in the pasta and stirred it a few times. I set a timer on my phone, slumping down to sit on the linoleum with my spine against the cabinet doors.
Everything ached, inside and out. I was sick of it.
I tipped my head forward, resting my forehead on my knees while I cried. I couldn’t stop. Shuddering breaths tore in andout of my chest, pressure throbbing in my skull from all my lost tears.
The day after running out of Dr. Killshaw’s office, I’d finally been able to place his scent. The forest. But like Mason, it wasn’t exactly formulated as a cologne. Sure, I could smell the pine and earth and wood, but there was more to it.Darkness. If Mason was the ocean’s darkness, Dr. Killshaw was the forest’s. He smelled the way the darkness of the forest felt. Cool shadows, damp air, a place to get lost in, a place to hide. It was difficult to correctly articulate.
When the timer went off on my phone—loud and clear, as I wished it’d been on the day I overslept in Dr. Killshaw’s office, because then none of this would’ve happened—I stood up and drained the water from the dented pot into the sink. I got myself a bowl of pasta with a sprinkle of salt on top, then put the rest in the fridge.
Bringing my laptop back with me into my bedroom, I sat cross-legged on my bed with the bowl of pasta on my lap. I set my laptop on my pillow and opened a new tab for YouTube.
An email notification made me pause.
The offer for the research position still stands.
Micah
I stared at the screen, wide-eyed, my appetite slowly draining away. Why would he send that to me? Why extend the offer again after threatening to expel me? A weird, bad feeling turned in my stomach.Is this a trick?
Instead of responding, I slammed my laptop shut. Then, I forced myself to eat the entire bowl of pasta in the dark, even though I was no longer hungry.
?????
On the weekends, I tended to work as many hours as I could. My class schedule made it difficult to get in long shifts during the week, so I always tried to use my weekends wisely.
I’d called out of work after the encounter in Dr. Killshaw’s office—for the first time in a really long time—so I needed the money even more. Eric was understandably worried when he got my text, but he never pushed me to talk about anything.
“Have a nice rest of your day,” my current customer said after I’d passed her plastic bag of items across the counter. A young boy was standing next to her, staring at his feet, shuffling on the tile. He was wearing dirty soccer cleats, his shinguards and orange socks slipping down.
“Thanks.” I managed a small smile. “You too.”
She left the store, and I watched the boy climb into the back of their navy blue minivan while she sat in the front seat. The automatic door slid shut. The woman handed her son something over her shoulder; maybe the electric-green sports drink she’d just purchased along with her medication and tampons.
I looked back down at my phone, flat on the counter, hidden on the other side of the cash register. Dr. Killshaw’s—Micah’s—email sat unanswered in my inbox, which I was aware was unprofessional, but I didn’t know what to say. I had no idea what his research consisted of, or if I’d even be able to find the time to help him with it.
Perhaps he’d just rescind the offer whenever I worked up the courage to respond because of how long it’d taken me.
I texted Mila when my shift was nearing its end, asking to come over, but she hadn’t replied by the time I clocked out. I decided to just head over to her apartment anyway, figuring maybe she was sleeping.
The sun set on my way over, the moon rising and bathing the world in its silvery glow.
I knocked on the door to Mila’s apartment, shivering from the nighttime chill in the air.
Ivan opened it. “Kotyusha?”
“Hi, Ivan. Is Mila here? She wasn’t answering her phone, so I thought she might be sleeping.”
He shook his head. “No, she’s not. But you’re welcome to come in and wait for her.”
I would’ve rejected the offer had I not been so tired I was literally about to fall asleep standing in the hallway. But I was sick of trying to weather this storm alone, sick of trying to be strong, sick of trying to navigate the nightmarish spiderweb I’d landed myself in. So I walked into the apartment, Ivan shutting the door behind me, heading back to the kitchen while I went to Mila’s bedroom.
I flopped down on her bed on my stomach, her fuzzy pillow soft under my face, my hair fanned out around my head, the dirty blonde strands draping over Mila’s leopard print blanket. My phone was laying on the mattress next to my face, and I watched it for any notifications from her…or another person.
Mason still hadn’t texted me.
Ihadn’t textedhimeither, but still.
