Page 25 of Shamed
I pop my head up out of the water with a gasp, my wet hair sticking to my face in clumps. Clearing it out of my eyes, I lean forward in the tub and press my forehead to my knees, eyes squeezed shut.
I wasn’t trying to drown myself; I was just trying to drown the memories in my head for just a second.
It didn’t work.
Why can I still hear those growled words after four years? I feel like I should be over it by now.
It’s not like I’ve had a multi-year long pity-party. I’ve been spending my time trying to act like the old me, which I’ve been told on many occasions, I’m nothing like.
It’s a useless endeavor, yet I continue beating the dead horse.
While I may mostly look the same on the outside, my insides have morphed into something unrecognizable.
I roll my head to the side, my eyes landing and lingering on my razor sitting on the edge of my large clawfoot tub. What would it feel like to run it over my skin? To feel that little bite of pain? Would it be satisfying? Would it take the memories away?
I never imagined I’d be someone who’d do that, but maybe—
My phone vibrating on the bathroom counter jolts me from my morbid thoughts. I quickly rise out of the water and grab atowel, wrapping it around myself as I retrieve my phone before it buzzes to the tile floor.
Dad. I silence the vibrating and dry off.
I called in sick today, and he’s probably not happy about it, even though this is the first sick day I’ve taken this year. I’m basically Dad’s errand girl now, doing everything and nothing at all. I’m not important in the company, so I’m sure they’ll be fine without me for one day.
The nightmares were particularly vivid and persistent last night, so I barely slept. I just needed a personal day to get my head straight. A bath obviously didn’t work.
I get dressed and then sink onto the couch with my phone, flicking away the missed call notification from Dad, then pull up Jersey’s contact. It’s been a couple of months since we last talked, so I type out a message, hoping to quiet some of these thoughts and reconnect.
I was already hearing from them less and less, but once I dropped out of college, it became even more sporadic.
Me: Hey. Been thinking about you.
Her reply is instant.
Jersey: OMG. I literally thought about you the other day.
Jersey: We should totally get together soon.
Me: I’m free this weekend.
My teeth gnaw on my bottom lip while I wait for her response. We’ve done this dance so many times, yet I keep coming back for more.
Minutes later, a message comes through.
Jersey: I have plans already ? But maybe next weekend?
I sigh, knowing I’d likely get that answer. ‘Maybe next weekend’ has been her go-to phrase for the past year.
Sadly, next weekend never happens.
Me: Sure.
My smile is sad. I know I’m keeping a grip on something that shriveled up and died a long time ago. I don’t know why. Loneliness?
Me: So, what have you been up to?
I get up and walk into the kitchen, pulling out some juice from the fridge and pouring a glass.
Jersey: I’ve actually been getting some hands-on experience in the classroom which has been pretty cool!
