Burgundy || HS

onze

Naked. Nakedness of the soul and heart with the accompaniment of the body. But nevertheless, naked. Waking up naked and alone was worse than waking up naked. Because at least waking up naked with someone else meant that they could cover the bareness of the body, holding you closer to their soul. Spines being kissed, ancient scars no longer burning memories. At least waking up naked wasn’t lonely. But Jane felt the coldness of the sheets beside her and knew she would be alone.

She’d never felt so bare in her life. Not after crying, not after showers, not after crying in the shower. She was naked inside and out, and Harry wasn’t there to cover her body and soul. Naked and alone. She dug herself out of the cave she felt she was in and climbed out of the bed. Then, it hit her. It wasn’t her home, it wasn’t the smell she was used to. It smelled of musk, sex, and Harry. It smelled of the one person that she needed to see this morning.

Jane felt like she was thrown away. Had Harry gone through all this trouble just to have sex with her? There was no note, she found as she roamed his empty apartment, no sign that he left for a good reason. He just left. But she didn’t want him to come back to her still in bed. She didn’t want to look hurt, even though that’s what she was. She expected more from him after the time they spent not talking and her chastising. Jane expected a lot more.

He would decide, she concluded, that she was not just a pack of cigarettes that he could finish after a long day. No, if she was going to be a pack of cigarettes, she was going to be the largest and most deadly pack there was. There was going to be no way to easily smoke through it without finding your own demise a quarter of the way through. She thought of the rusted amber in his eyes that hovered over her just the night before. They told her that she was special. They reminded her of old wood and dashes of cinnamon, but those eyes were not hers. Neither was the body that the eyes belonged to.

Jane gathered her things. She put her hair in a ponytail, leaving estranged strands alone and put her sweater over her bra, not bothering to put her tank top back on. Her leggings were easy to put back on along with her flats. Jane didn’t imagine the morning after to go down this way, but it seemed that it had to. There was a bus stop a block away and it would be easy to get there on time in the morning rush. Jane called Mrs. Johnson and told her that she would be coming over before she went to work.

Jane first went home to rid herself of Harry and their misadventures. Then, she got back on a bus to go to Mrs. Johnson’s apartment. “Where’s that little asshole? Did you spend time with him?”

She sat on the couch as soon as Mrs. Johnson opened the door. “Mrs. Johnson, you would never judge me, correct?”

“I wouldn’t judge you unless you needed to be judged. I don’t baby you, Jane. Tell me, what’s wrong?”

“Harry and I went back to his apartment and we… yeah. But I woke up this morning and he wasn’t there, there was no note, and I just felt alone.”

Mrs. Johnson shook her head. “You know that man needs some guidance. Goes to show that older does not mean wiser. Those seven years he has on you does not help. I think he’s afraid, honey. Maybe he’s not ready for commitment. You never know until you actually ask.”

“I don’t want to talk to him,” Jane crossed her arms over her chest. She still felt naked, especially under the eyes of Emilee.

“You can’t run away from your problems, Jane. That’s the oldest quote in the book. You have to either stand up to them or let it go. And, to be honest, I’m sure the last thing you want to do is let that boy go.” Jane wanted to argue that the last thing she wanted to do was to let Mrs. Johnson go, but there was no point in that, the woman was going to die. “Talk to him, Jane.”