A Poet's Secret

Chapter 9

Zora

My phone has been dead for I don't even know how long till I finally decide to charge it and when it finally powers on I'm bombarded with text messages and phone calls from Sierra and Ezra.

Most of Ezra's messages are just asking if I'm okay or if I'm coming to school. There are like 12 of those but I  ignore them. He's just texting me just to be nice. As I swipe them away from my lock screen I see the white hearts and heart eye emojis accompanying his name and I think I feel a physical strain in my heart.
Scrolling past Ezra's messages I see 3 texts from Sierra.

Hey, I  heard from Ezra that you guys broke up
It's probably his fault anyway I  always knew you were too good for him
Call me if you need me ily

I would much rather her be here with me soothing and comforting me but she wouldn't because she has school and she's not gonna skip class so I can cry on her shoulder like a damsel in distress. A little voice in the back of my head whispers that she skips classes for her hookups and I shake it away. This jealousy is what ruined my relationship and my boyfriend or now, ex was caring enough not to expose me.

I hear my mom downstairs answering the door for someone but I don't care who it is or what they want. I just want to cry and sleep and cry.

My mom has been working from home this whole week because she's been worried about me. I try to tell her that I'm fine and that she doesn't need to be here but she relents always. Though if I  was her, I'd be worried about me too.

Soon after the doorbell downstairs, I heard a knock at my door. "Mom, I'm not hungry, I'm fine" I yell or try to. My throat has not gotten any better seeing as I  haven't talked to anyone and have been drowning in my sorrows for the past week.

The door tentatively opens and I groan in annoyance.

"Mom I-" but it's not my mom, it's Ezra with a huge bag in his hands.
"Ez w- what are you doing here? Don't you have school?'' I say wearily trying to clean up my monstrosity of a room at 3x speed.

The pages of my ripped-out journal are still scattered across the carpeted floor, my bedsheet is halfway off my bed and my pillows are strewn across the room, papers with unfinished poems are mixed with the heaps of clothing scattered everywhere and unfinished books lie in various positions. Ezra puts down the bag he was carrying as I try to clean up my messy table.

"Uh sorry for the mess I-" I  ramble as I suddenly feel him behind me. His large hands trace from my shoulders down to my hands making my eyes shut with relaxation. I turn around and look up at him. He has me cornered against my desk. And he looks at me. He really looks at me. He looks at me like I'm his universe and he looks at me like it hurts.

Suddenly he clears his throat "The mess doesn't matter Zor, I  can clean up just go shower you're a mess"

I laugh but it comes out like a wet, sick sound "Are you saying I look bad?"

He doesn't break eye contact as he tells me "I  will always think you're beautiful Zora"

We stand there and stare at each other again before he abruptly pulls away and grabs some clothes from my dresser for me.

"Here, go take a shower or a bath if you want to. It'll make you feel better" he says as he hands me the clothes where I remain in front of the desk.

I grab onto his arm before he pulls away and I  mutter "You make me feel better Ez''

It's desperate and I know it was desperate as soon as the words left my mouth yet I somehow find the will to look him in the eyes. He doesn't look back at me though, instead he stands staring at our hands or rather my hand holding his.

" Zor, i-, we can't. It's not right. You're messed up right now, just go take a shower and we can talk okay" There's hurt in his voice and I  feel stupid so I  go and shower.

•┈┈┈••✦ ♡ ✦••┈┈┈•

The bathroom steams up as I wait for the shower to heat up. I avoid looking at myself in the mirror as I always do. There's no need to add to the reasons for my tears by looking at my body in the mirror so I avoid it especially because I'm sure I look a mess.

I strip myself of my clothes and when I open the shower I feel the mist of the heat hit my skin. I step into a stream of water and I squeeze my eyes close to prevent tears.

I love and hate showers because they can be a space for you to fantasize and dream in peace but some shower thoughts can bring you to pieces sometimes and it's comforting that as you weep your eyes out, no one will be able to tell the difference between the scorching water droplets and your hot tears.

I stay in the shower for a long time even though I hate it. I stay even though it makes me think about the things I don't want to do. I stay till my fingers are raisin-like and my body gets really soft. I stay till I have to leave. I stay till I think my body will turn to mush if I  stay any longer and then I leave but the thoughts don't. They don't get mushy and shrively and the water doesn't wash them away.