Mare Moody - [blank]

“It is time for a bath anyway,” Tabitha laughs, “could you bring her up for me, Mark?”

Mark gets off his chair and pulls the toddler out of her high chair. He smiles at her. He has little to no care about the mess the child made all over herself and her bib. He holds her slightly away from his white sweater and carries her out of the kitchen.

Tabitha begins to busy herself with clearing the table. I reach to help her. We stack the dishes in the sink. Tabitha tells me that her maid will come and wash them anyway so we leave the mess behind us in the kitchen.

We walk through the Great Room, up the stairs and back into the hallway. As soon as we reach the top of the stairs, a soft smile comes across Tabitha’s face. I can hear Margaret’s giggles echo through the upstairs.

As they hit her ears, her face relaxes and she is at peace. Children have a magic effect on their parents.

Tabitha walks to the entrance of the bathroom and studies the scene taking place. Her daughter sits in a the bathtub. Soap runs down her fat cheeks as she attempts to hand her father a toy from the tub. He laughs and accepts it from her tiny hands. He holds a loofah in his right hand and through Margaret’s giggle fits and gift giving, he is making an asserted effort to at least scrub her small body a little bit. Tabitha gazes in with love.

He looks up at us and smiles, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” she beams.

She turns around and walks back into the hallway. After seeing her husband and daughter, her steps got lighter. She flows through the wind, rather than being taken by its power. She stops and looks at me.

“Goodnight,” she says.

She pulls me into a hug. I throws me off guard but as I stand there with her arms around me, my body relaxes. For a small moment, time seems to turn back 6 years to our closest year. I hug her back firmly. I know I pushed her out of my life before but I want her in it more than ever now.

“Goodnight,” I reply.

She walks into her room and shuts the door. I walk down the white hallway and I look at Tabitha’s wedding picture. I keep going back and forth between happy and envy but now that she has greeted me back into her life without any reason to, I can’t help but feel happy for her. I long for my life to be like hers. Not in a jealous way but as motivation.

I walk into my room and sit on the bed. It seems like all of my life I have been watching everyone else through a glass window. I have never experienced what other people have on the same personal level. When people receive achievements, they beam with pride. When I receive them, I never truly give myself credit for them. Who am I to get praise?

When other people find something they love either in a store or a restaurant, they show it all over their face and body that they do truly love it. Whenever I find something I love, I smile and approve of it. Who am I to give praise?

I lay down and stare at the ceiling. I start counting the tiles. The room is 8 tiles by 16 tiles. 128 tiles. Almost 100 more than my room at home. As my thoughts catch up to me, I realize that I am the most solipsistic narcissist.

Out of the corner of my eye, I see a dark shadow leaning against the wall. I turn my head and look at it. The shadow begins at the floor and flows up into the shape of a little old lady. I immediately recognize her. This is not the first time she has been here. I sit up.

“Hi Grandma,” I say, a smile coming across my face.

“Hello, darling.” Her voice as gentle as the warm flame from the candles on her bedside.

“What are you doing here?”

“Oh, I forgot to say goodbye.” She walks over to me and pulls me into a hug.

I try to hug back but only air greets me. I pull out of the hug and look around the room. My grandmother is gone.

I fall back on the bed.

You are fucking crazy.

I know.

I kick off my shoes, pull the comforter down and sink into the egyptian cotton sheets.

It was night and morning. The third day.

I wake up and although I should be happy that I got away from Kane, the first thought to hits me is: I wonder how he is . I really shouldn’t care, I know this but my love for him has yet to completely leave my abused head. I open my eyes and look around the room. At least this time I didn’t wake up handcuffed to his bed.

I pull the comforter off of me and kick my legs off the edge of the bed. I stand unfirm. I’m still wearing the jeans and t-shirt from yesterday. I can’t help but assume that I smell horrid.

I walk out of the room,through the maze and down to the kitchen all while keeping my eyes peeled for any family members. I am meet with not a single one.

As I enter the kitchen, I look around. On the fridge, a tiny sticky note is haphazardly held on to the door by a “We Love Greece” magnet. Once again, their money is evident. I inspect the note and read it contents.

“Hey Ana,

So sorry to leave you but Mark and I had work and Margaret is at daycare. Feel free to eat anything out of the fridge and read all of the books you’d like.

I chuckle and place the note back on the fridge. I assume that this means that I can use her shower too and that’s what I really need.

I walk out of the kitchen, back through the maze and upstairs. I’m not quite sure what room is the bathroom. I use trial and error by opening every door and looking into it, searching for a shower.

The first couple of doors open to grand bedrooms. The next opens to Margaret’s nursery. Finally, the door after that opens to a large white bathroom. I am scared to walk on the fresh white tile. I’m nervous to make a dirt smudge on the pure tiles.

I walk in, nonetheless and begin to take off my clothes. I don’t realize how sweaty I am until my shirt peels off of me like a bandaid. My shoulderblades feel the air and breathe again. I turn on the water. I turn the hot on full blast and the cold on half.

I step in. The water is scorching under my beaten body. I let it roll down my back. Tabitha has 30 different bottles of shampoo lined along the back wall of the shower.

I blindly reach for a random one. When I open the cap, the smell of apples bursts through the room. I hate apples. I close the cap and put it back. I reach for another. The bottle is a bright gold. I open it and the deep sweetness of honey subtly pours out and thickens the air. I pour a good amount on my hand and run it through my hair.

The evaporated water makes it hard to breathe. Our world is cover in 70% water, yet all of it is inhospitable to all humans. It makes me wonder if the Earth was actually made for us.

I finish washing my hair after running identical honey conditioner through it. The aroma flows around my body and lightly caresses my skin.

I turn off the water and I am met with harsh cold. I shiver and goosebumps wash over my entire body. I reach for one of the folded towels laying on the counter next to the sink. I wrap it around myself, grab my clothing and walk out.

My wet feet sink into the rug. I leave a track in it as I walk to my room. When I walk through the doorframe, I grab my bag, pull out yet another pair of jeans and a plain white t-shirt. I shove my dirty clothes in and push the bag to the side.

I get dressed in my outfit. My wet hair pours water down my white shirt, creating see-through spots.

I walk down stairs hoping that a family member has shown up. When I reach loft and look down, I see Tabitha sitting on the couch.

“Hey there!” She says, looking up from her book.

I smile and walk to meet her. She looks at her watch and smirks.

“It’s five o’clock in the afternoon.”

I lower my head and laugh. I didn’t realize I had slept that long. That is typically behavior of me, though.