Heartbreaker

T H I R T Y N I N E

Later that night I was cleaning my room.

It was much needed. There comes a point in the semester where my mind wants to give up. Where I'm trying so hard in school that I don't bother to keep my room clean anymore. Only because I physically can't. My brain tells me that all I want to do is sit in bed and relax instead of cleaning. But today, I felt the need to clean for the first time in a while.

My room wasn't that big, so it was easy to pick up. There were mostly clothes, scattered in different places where they didn't belong. But today I decided to do a deep clean, for whatever the reason was. And began to grab things from under my bed that were there for years, probably.

I stretch my hand under the bed, reaching for whatever it could grab. I feel it touch something hard, almost plastic-like. Pulling it out, I almost recognize it immediately. My stomach sinks as I stare down at the large tupperware with the red lid.

I haven't looked at this thing in years. Because every time I do, a whirlwind of emotions fly through me. My dad has been asking and wondering where his favorite extra large tupperware went. I was never able to say I took it when I was younger to fill it with things.

I decided not to open it, and slid the bin to the side. Out of sight, out of mind. I needed to clean my room right now, and that's exactly what I'm going to do.

So I try not to stare at the bin as I finish cleaning. My eyes purposefully avoiding it as I continue to throw clothes into the hamper in my closet. I turn my back to it, straightening up my cluttered desk. Putting pens away, throwing away scraps of paper I didn't need anymore, and putting all my books back into their place.

Then my eyes fell back onto the bin with the red lid. I chew on my lip nervously, something inside of me screaming to go open it.

And I give in.

Pretty easily might I add. My will power was quite small when it came to this thing.

I haven't thought about her alone in a long time. Maybe it was time, to process these emotions, at least on my own. They'll all come out eventually, better alone than in front of someone else.

I bend down, resting my weight on my knees as I slide it along the old hardwood floor. The sound causing me to cringe, almost like nails on a chalkboard. Even though, the two were quite different. My body seems to almost know what's coming, the breakdown.

My hands start to shake as I grab the corner of the lid, closing my eyes in the process. Like that would do anything.

And then I open it, slowly peeling back the lid. And my stomach sinks again, all the way to the basement.

I stare in disbelief at my mom's things I had collected over the years she's been gone. Mostly jewelry, knowing that it wouldn't be missed if it mysteriously left her jewelry box my father still keeps in his room. But there were also other things in here that I had forgotten about too.

I pull the silver necklace from its place in the corner. She wore this everyday, I could still see it glistening on her chest like she was still wearing it in front of me. I gently place it on the ground next to me. And continue to dig through the tupperware.

Her perfume bottle was the next thing I pull out. I swallow hard, tempted to open it and raise the bottle to my nose. So I do. And I'm inevitably brought back to a time where the six of us were all sitting on the couch. Her arm was around me, and all I could smell was her perfume. It engulfed me like a comforting hug. It's weird how certain smells take you back to a memory or even a place.

I put the bottle carefully down next to the necklace, and continue to scavenge through her belongings. My hands suddenly freeze in their place as I spot a picture at the bottom of the box. I remembered all of the other things that belonged to her. But the picture, this particular picture, threw me off.