What Deceit Looks Like | ✓

03: cassidy

I was certain that it didn't matter how much bleach I used on the tile in the bar's bathroom; it wasn't going to come clean. The bristles on the brush I was using to scrub were completely smashed and bent out of shape from how hard I was pressing against the ground. It was an accurate representation of what the inside of my head looked like. And I'm almost certain that I've lost all sense of smell as the smell of bleach invaded past my mask that's not really doing much for me.

It's almost as if trying to wash away the filth on the floor was the same as washing away the secrets I've been keeping.

Too bad it's not.

"If you scrub that floor anymore I think you might wear a hole in it," Jupiter comments standing in the doorway and I lift my head to look at her as I take a momentary pause in my scrubbing rhythm.

"It's not clean."

Jupiter pinches her nose, "CJ it's so clean in here the chemicals you've used are burning my nose and I've only been in the doorway for thirty seconds tops so I can't imagine how your nose feels."

I grimace but she can't tell from behind the mask covering my mouth and nose, "You're implying that I have any feeling left in my nose." I've resorted to breathing in and out through my mouth but my head is still spinning except I'm not sure I can blame it on the chemicals.

She just shakes her head at me, "John said to tell you to go home. You've worked a long shift and if you stay any longer then he isn't going to pay you for the time."

I continue scrubbing, "Then I guess I'm not getting paid."

"Seriously?" She asks before crouching down next to me to pull the brush out of my hand. "Go home CJ."

"Jupiter I don't want to go back to an empty apartment. Noah has started working some nights and I just don't want to be by myself right now." And it's not just that, I also don't want to be myself right now. But I don't want to pretend either.

She smiles gently flashing her sparkly teeth, "Then go to mine. I get off in an hour and I'll come straight home. We can do a girls night if you want?"

I muster up a weak smile, "That sounds great. Thank you."

Except once I walk out the bar's doors, I head in the opposite direction without a goal in mind.

I hate the idea of every day is the same; some welcome a routine but I despise it. In Vegas, it was full of routines. My mom's routine of leaving every night to go to the casino. The routine of wondering why my father died every night when I tried to fall asleep in an empty house. The routine of cleaning up after my mother every morning after she passed out in a pile of her bile. The routine of hoping that wasn't the day I was taken away from Noah and Jupiter because I was wearing the same clothes as I was the day before. 

So occasionally I wander.

This is different for me than going to the galas where I pretend to be some luckier version of myself that didn't grow up in a trailer with an alcoholic who had a gambling addiction. During the galas, I have to think and be creative. Right now I don't have to do anything other than making sure that my feet don't trip over any trash and keep my eyes peeled in front of me to make sure I don't run into anyone.

I don't have to do anything other than exist.

I'm not CJ. I'm not Cassidy. I'm not the poor girl. I'm not a rich girl.

I'm just being me.

And sometimes that's really fucking nice.

The temperature has dropped since it's now dark and I wish that I'd been smart enough to grab my jacket from the hook because even though it's summertime, it doesn't mean that it's warm after the sun goes down.