A Place In This Life

Chapter 26

Following the birthday nightmare, I spent the week in bed, except for trips to the bathroom and one shower, wherein I leaned against the tiles and let the blasting water do the work. My mother brought me food that I did not touch, and my father spouted encouraging words that went in one ear and out the other. Even Taylor tried to cheer me up by hauling his Playstation into my room so I could play video games with him, but I couldn't pick-up the controller, let alone think clearly enough to concentrate on who to kill and who to rescue.

Cara stopped by and gave her support by bringing a latte. I could get some of that down, allowing the froth to soothe my sore throat.

"It has milk in it, so there's some sustenance," she said. It was exactly one week past my 18th birthday. I smelled pretty much like feet and socks, hair flat against my scalp, my t-shirt and sweats in need of a wash as much as my body did.

"Would you like to go get a mani and pedi? My treat," she offered, throwing the blanket off my feet to reveal toenails that rivaled those of Shrek.

"I don't think so," I mumbled, hugging my pillow.

"Girl, you need to get out of bed and get on with it! It's been a week, and you need to take care of yourself! You've spent the last friggin' year taking care of asshole, and you forgot about what you need," she said, standing up and placing her hands on her hips.

"Are you demanding that I just brush it off and let it go?"

"No, I'm not. First of all, you need a shower. You smell homeless and look like it, too."

Yes, I was definitely musty, in need of a bath, a shampoo and a couple coats of Secret. If it would make me feel a little better, I would have a wash.

"Alright, I'll have a bath," I said, slinking out of the bed, which Cara immediately stripped, throwing the sheets and blankets into a pile.

"We should burn these," she said, turning up her nose and holding her hands at a distance.

I grabbed my bathrobe, a clean pair of underwear, and went into the bathroom. Which side of the dial was hot and which was cold? My mind was backwards, my body floppy from too much time in bed, where I'd scribbled in my sketchbook pictures of Todd in the hospital, tubes going every which way. Then I drew both of us, and put a black line across my own picture. I drew coffins. It was pure morbidity.

The warm water hurt my skin like little needles, piercing the layer of sadness and dirt that had accumulated during the week. I could literally feel the grease wash out of my hair the moment I applied shampoo. My underarms were forests that I razed with a few sweeps of the razor.

As the bathroom filled with steam, I pretended that I was stepping out of the woods into a clearing where I could find new things, new people, a new life. Wrapping the towel around me, I went to the mirror and wiped away the mist, and then dropped it to take a look at my nakedness. I flinched at what I saw — someone who was pale, soft and sad. Was I desirable? Todd had thought so. Alex had thought so. I did not think so.

I pinched my waist, and turned around to look at my butt. It was round, it was big and it was what I felt like. The butt of it all. I'd given my heart, soul and body to Todd, and now they were back in my possession. Some things you want to possess, while others you don't want back once you give them away.

The soft robe felt warm and safe, the new underpants refreshing to my crotch. A few swipes of deodorant and a little moisturizer, and I felt a lot better, at least physically. My mental fitness would take a lot longer and require more than just a shower to heal.

"You look so much better, Nal," said Cara, who had put fresh sheets on my bed while I showered. My mother came into the room to hand her a few pillow cases.