Audrey Hepburn's Pearls: Part I

Chapter 59.4: 1995, Ruiz

Chapter 59.4: 1995, Ruiz

Full of eggs and bacon, I sat on my well made bed and stared around my room. The phone was sitting next to me, extended on the line from the kitchen. My nails tapped the hard plastic of it, nerves surging up my hand and into my heart. 

All around me, it was evident that my Mama had cleaned up in here with care. There were newly cleaned clothes on top of my dresser, too many to go in there. It was mostly t-shirts, Summer stuff. It wasn't Summer yet but it was getting warmer. The floor was all picked up, the carpet obviously vacuumed recently with the vacuum lines still in it. 

Her love confused me. I didn't really know how to handle it. What was she thinking? The last conversation I'd had with her over the phone hadn't told me anything. When I'd changed into a t-shirt and jeans she hadn't said anything either. I'd sat at the table eating and she'd been getting ready for work. No words. After a while, I stared down at the flower pattern of the plate. It felt so weird. I can't say I didn't think I'd ever see it again, but it was unexpected to see it, almost jarring.

My nails raked the plastic and I breathed in, steadying myself. I picked up the phone and flipped it over, pressing the buttons of Miss Cha Cha's phone number. I tried to regulate my breath as it rang, but it was hard, the nerves bubbling in my newly full tummy too much.

It rang three times. Then four. My hand gripped the phone too tightly when I realized Ambrose might pick up. Oh god, what would I do if Ambrose picked up? 

On the fifth ring I slammed the phone down with more force than I meant to. My hand was shaking on the phone on the cradle. Ambrose. No, what if he picked up? What could I possibly say? What would he say to me? What if he cried? I couldn't take it. 

My hands found my face and I laid it into them. Just breathing, trying to go slow. The palms of my hands scraped against stubble. Oh. Right. They slipped down and the tips of my fingers brushed against the beard starting on my face. My heart sank. What was I supposed to do? 

I got up and opened my door. Behind it was Zorro. She stared up at me with her corgi grin. She followed me to the bathroom. I didn't have the heart to close the door and leave her out. Looking through the drawers for a razor and hopefully some shaving cream, I could feel her staring at me. 

Oh right, I hadn't fed her yet. I sighed. Buried in the drawer, my hand found a plastic razor with the guard still on, but no cream. I opened the cabinet. No cream. Shit. I leaned over the bathtub and found some soap. It would have to do. Quietly, I looked up at the mirror to begin, but was shocked by the image before me. Pink and black streaks met my vision, all down my face and making me look like I'd been punched in places due to the odd layering and washed out color. My lipstick was gone, instead my lips were rimmed with lip liner in places still. My false lashes were nowhere to be seen. Where and when they'd gone, I had no idea. I sighed, lathering up my face with the soap and rinsed a few times to get most of the color off and set to work. 

Afterwards, I led Zorro into the kitchen and threw out her old water and refilled. Setting it down, she overtook me and started drinking before the bowl even hit the floor. It seemed like she'd been waiting for new water before she took a drink and I didn't blame her. I wouldn't want to drink old water either. Opening her store brand dog chow, I found the old scooping cup in there, neon green as always, and scooped out a cup of kibble. It would have to do. Maybe I could give her some wet food tonight, but I didn't feel like opening a can now. She ate the kibble eagerly anyway. 

Now there was nothing to do but that phone call. But facing it, what I did last night. I knew Miss Cha Cha would forgive me, just like Charlie's father had forgiven me. But I didn't want forgiveness. I kind of wanted someone to come down on me, tell me I was wrong. But she'd never do that. I stopped in the hallway, staring at my door to the left of the end of the hallway. The grey phone cord was snaked into the doorway.