The Lunatics 2: Push Tumble & Fall

Tuesday 1:00 p.m.

DeaDorian was gone, and so was Tuesday. Housekeeper had already made Loxi's bed, which meant it was well past noon.

I hung my feet on the side of the bed, and I was dizzy. I almost tilted back into bed. The hangover from the Blissing had worn off, and I struggled to remember the night before. I was shivering, which wasn't normal for a hot New Orleans afternoon. I held my arms and hung my head back for a second, and the rush of blood felt delicious. I wanted to go back to bed, but I had to use the bathroom. I slapped myself awake a few times, and when I got up, I remembered I fell asleep with my boots on. They made a squishy sound because they were wet.

"What the hell is this," I touched my boots, and they weren't just moist they were wet like someone had dipped them in a bucket of water. Had I sweated this much? I took them off, and my feet smelled of sulfur. I had passed out so deeply I couldn't remember anything. "Did I get in the shower in the middle of the night? Lord knows I am due for one." But none of my clothes were wet except my boots.

I slid open the bedroom window, and the heat of the sun blasted me into a final round of the wake-ups. I placed the boots on the window sill to dry, and I noticed Loxi's Pyrite rock peaked from under her bed.

I probably should've had respect for her privacy, but she was so impossible to read that my curiosity was far stronger than my sometimes-faulty set of values. So, I pulled out the paper from under the Pyrite rock, and Loxi had followed the instructions to the tee.

"Oh, this is hilarious," I said to myself. I began to unfold the 3x5 card, but I guessed I still had a sliver of decency for those I cared for because I steady folded it back up and didn't read it.

"I'll just make her tell me," I said.

I found my way to the bathroom and pushed the door open. I crash landed on the toilet.

I mindlessly scrolled down IG first. Loxi's Secret Suicide Page was tilting to 25,000 followers. She had 5000 likes on her latest picture, which featured her clenching a meat cleaver between her teeth and holding up a sign on brown butcher paper that read #grosseries.

I ran through my texts thinking I'd have at least one from Jonathan. Maybe a sad face, a kiss or an I'm sorry—but there was nothing. The mandatory no contact period had begun. A necessary rule that usually allowed one party to count time while the other enjoyed freedom.

I'd been sitting on the toilet so long my legs were getting numb. I sent Loxi a text asking her where she was and right after I pressed send, his text came in.

Harlan: Girl. Do you always send messages to yourself from other people's phones? Since you're so hard up to see me, den why don't cha' come and meet me at de Basement Bazar on St. Peter's and Toulouse. I'm here 2day.

I put my phone down by the sink and thought about a shower, but it all seemed like too much effort, so I pulled the shower curtain to one side and spoke directly to the shower head like it needed an explanation. "At some point, I'll come in there." I opted for a change of clothes, underwear included.

Converse, black canvas shorts, a red see-through top with gold lettering that read Rip Reprint. I squeezed some styling cream on the palm of my hand and separated my hair into thick locks. It was getting longer than I usually wore it because Jonathan had asked me to let it grow.

"Too long now," I said, and I took the scissors from the top drawer and cut some strands shorter than others. Now it was choppier, more how I liked it; messy and without direction. I smeared shimmery black eyeshadow and went heavy on the mascara.

When I stepped into the hallway, DeaDorian stood at the entrance of Laurels, which meant I'd have to make up a story because I didn't want to tell him where I was going. Not because it mattered, but because I needed to create some space between us. But my concerns about my privacy were about to be foreshadowed because I was not ready to deal with what waited at the doorway.