Perfection

Chapter Four: My Release & Our Argument

        I took a cab home since I rode with Jayden to school this morning. I finally arrived to my house after the cab pulled off; I opened my bag to look for my keys. The vanilla cinnamon and Mr. Clean cleaning product scents flowed from my house filling my nose without me even stepping in over the threshold. I peered in to see what anybody whom was knocking on the double French doors to my Italian style villa. I smiled as looked around a little, everything was in its place, I could almost even see a sparkle in the marble flooring. I wasn't shocked though, without the help of any hired help I was always able to perform my daily house chores; the amazing product was this is how I leave it before going anywhere. Everything was perfect.  I was cursed with my mother's need for absolute perfection and my dad's most desire for the best in life. I pray heaven that one day I can find the strength to ignore them, but their everlasting linger in my conscience eats at me constantly. I found myself to be a prisoner to my weakness.  Jayden says that the needs for cleaning, cooking, and living perfection are good qualities for a future mother and wife to have. He says he hopes our future daughter will possess these fine qualities, but my concern and the thing he doesn't know, is the hidden pain that comes with it. He hasn't a clue about the things I do to myself to remain the perfect girl.

        My mother used to call me Bonita, she wanted to make sure I knew I was beautiful and not worry about the way of thinking us Monroe woman are naturally born with. Plus, the over achieving genes passed on from my father, I was destined to be the way I am.

        I thought about the new goal Tamika gave me, it was more critical than the goal I set for myself but that's perfection right? You only achieve it by working. I am going to have to cut down on eating even more, workout for another thirty minutes, and take another half dose of my pills. I could feel the tears build up in my waterline, but Blacks (my father's family) do not cry, we strive and take what we want. I fanned at my eyes to dry the tears so I wouldn't mess up my makeup, and headed for my room. The mint smell made me feel easier than my original mode, reaching for the hollow book my mother gave me on my 8th birthday from the white bookshelf tucked away in the corner of my room. I threw the book on my bed along with my bag, then bent down to get the champagne colored box (the box was from my parents wedding they gave their guest a bottle of them own branded wine, I found it in the attic when we moved some of mother things there.) and held it on my hip. I crawled up on my bed and opened the box removing a too familiar bottle of liquid pain reliever, a new syringe, and a plastic band. With the band tied tightly around my arm I shot the pain reliever into my arm, and I wait for it to take. I could feel the  a slight  numbness take over my body, so i opened my hollow book removing my pocket blade I got back when I first started  this routine. I could imagine my mother's face as she sat in the in bed with her blood dipping for from her wrist, this is my release.  Recreating the way my mother died, first numbing her to not feel the pain of her life draining from her body. I felt closer to her, the blood I lose was half hers. I wish I knew more of her. My father boxed her things, placed them in the attic, and never talked of her.

        I placed the blade on my skin feeling only the tingling of the cool breeze of the flesh reopening. I lay back onto my bed, imaging the dead look of the lifeless mother and wife. Angelica, my mother's name was beautiful, the way it rolled off the tongue sounding, the hard 'ica' in it. I adore her, her beauty, her voice, her pain. Her dream was ultimate perfection, she almost had it but the curse ate at her so bad. 

        I continued to lie in the same spot, never shifting, never opening my eyes, only feeling the blood drip and the rising and falling of my chest. Suddenly, my door bell sounded, I was calm. I cleaned up my mess, wrapped my wrist lightly and jogged down the stairs. The figure was familiar.

        "Hey Als." He smiled and walked in.

        "Hey Jay. Wassup?" I linked my hands together behind my back, taking extra precaution about letting him see the results of my release.

        "Why did you leave early today? I was kinda worried because you didn't seem sick or anything before." He asked rubbing the back of his neck.

        "I just... felt a little overwhelmed, I guess." I said which was not a lie, I do feel overwhelmed.

        "We do not have to do this it only continues to stress you. You have to come to class, you have to make sure you do everything so you can get into UCLA  next fall."

        "I know, I really do. I am trying to keep this as a one time thing, but I cannot promise you anything. This is not anything like they said it would be. This job controlled my summer, my attitude, and my life basically."

        Jayden stepped forward and kissed me without warning, I pulled after 5 seconds. "Nice way of telling me to shut up."

        He reached for my hands, which I dropped to my side as Jayden placed his lips on mine," I know you Allegria, you are gonna go over the deep end with. I just need you to promise me you will tell me if this begins to affect you mentally, baby, you cannot be perfect at everything."

        "I cannot promise that. I am scared."

        " Do you have any trust in me?" He asked.  I  nodded in response. "Then promise me you will tell me."

        " Jay, I cannot, somethings even with the people I trust the most, its hard to admit my emotions.

        "Fine." He dropped my hands bumping lightly on the fresh wound  on my wrist.

        "Ahh!" I exclaimed.

        "What?" His eyes read hurt, and concerned.

        "Nothing, it's nothing." I lie, I hate lying to him.

        "Ard,fine. Keep things from me and see if our relationship will last."

        "Jayden don't do that." I grabbed him and he saw my wrapped wrist.

        " Then tell me what's that is ." His eyes changed to a darker brown, he grabbed my wrist, his fingers gripped firmly on my wound.

        "Will you let me go!'' I yelled, this iris lightened again and he shook his head.   "What's going on with you?"

        "Nothing, I am sorry. I am just worried about you. I have do not hurt you on purpose, but things like that get me in a different head space."

        "I understand, but I am not ready to share some of these things you are asking me to. I am sorry."
"I am leaving, I will see you in the morning." He had a look on his face I was not used to seeing.

        "Babe... I am sorry." I grabbed the back of his black leather hooded jacket.

        "Don't" He growled lowly and left. What's going on with us.

        "I am, but you have to tell me what's wrong first."

        "Now you see where I am coming from." He looked back over his shoulder at him and slammed my door.

        Our first official argument since we got together.