Page 117 of The Love of My Next Life
She winks. “Really.”
“Wait. Why can’t you teach me?”
Becca snorts and walks toward my bedroom door.
“I couldn’t teach a fish to swim, love.” She walks out of her old office/studio/my new temporary bedroom, then calls back, “and maybe take a shower, Len. You smell like a foot.”
I get off the bed and strip out of the pajamas I’ve been wearing for the last week. I stare at myself in the small mirror above my dresser. My skin is pale and sallow. My eyes are sunken and bloodshot and rimmed with dark circles. My hair looks like it hasn’t been washed in weeks, and honestly, I can’t remember when I last showered.
I probably do smell like a foot.
I wrap myself in a towel and head to the small bathroom down the hall. I take a long shower. I wash my hair twice. I shave every inch of my body, besides my head and eyebrows.
When I step out of the bathroom, I feel refreshed and renewed.
A new Lennon.
I go back to my room for a hairbrush, run it though my hair, and twist it back into a quick braid. I haven’t been wearing them lately, but it’s an easy way to keep it out of my face if I’m going to be welding. When I’m done, I put the hairbrush on my bedside table and notice an email notification on my laptop. I rush to it. I don’t think I even breathe as I open my email.
It’s a reply from Claire.
I’m anxious and excited. This is my lifeline. This is how I get ahold of Macon. This is how I fix everything. My answers. My direction.
I click on the email, but instead of scrolling to her response, I reread my original message first.
Claire,
I’m sorry for what I said. I’m still pissed you ratted me out. I feel really betrayed, but I never should have said those things. They were uncalled for, and I’m sorry.
I really need to get ahold of Macon. I’ve sent him like thirteen emails and he hasn’t responded to a single one and now they’ve started bouncing back. I think his email is full. Can you tell him to check his email? Please? It’s important. I just need to talk to him.
Love you. Ttys.
Len
I take a deep breath.I count to ten. Then I scroll to her reply
Lennon,
Please stop emailing Macon. He doesn’t want to talk to you. Take the hint. You’re being pathetic and it’s embarrassing. He’s doing better now that you’re gone. Maybe he’ll be ready to talk to you when you come home at the end of the summer.
Enjoy your all-expenses paid vacation in the English Countryside or whatever.
Claire
My eyes fill with tears,but I refuse to let them fall. He doesn’t want to talk to me. Take the hint. Fine.
Fuck him. Fuck all of them. I’m done being their punching bag. I’m done with all of it. I don’t need them. All I need is myself, and I need a change.
I block Claire’s email.
Then I block Macon’s.
I start to block Andrea’s contact on the app but stop. Right now, she’s the fastest connection I have to my dad. I leave her unblocked for now, but I mute her and set her to text only. In five months, when he’s home and retired, I’ll block her.
Then I stand and rummage through Aunt Becca’s drawers until I find a pair of scissors. I take them to the bathroom and look in the mirror. I grab my braid, hold it up over my head, and hack it off. I run my fingers through the strands. All that’s left is a jagged, uneven bob.
I stare at myself in the mirror.
