Dirt

Home, Home, Home

    The room was far too white to go unstained, it screamed to become Trevor’s latest masterpiece. White walls, white carpet, white sheets, white tile and shower curtain; like the first snowfall we would vandalize it with foot-prints.
    Trevor kicked off his heavy boots so that they collided loudly with the victorian wallpaper and got himself a running start before launching himself face first into the feather filled comforter. I slid off my shoes, placing them neatly in front of the doorway before hooking the two extra locks securely into place.
    I took notice of the frames lining the walls, duplicates of terribly floral rococo paintings of ladies on swings in big bustling pink gowns, thriving in the ecstasy of leisurely life. They were the only things that brought colour to the otherwise bland modern take on a hotel room.
    “I’m just gonna… Take a nap… Alright, sugar?” Trevor droned out with mouth buried into piles of pillows and body limp and stretched out over the entirety of the mattress. Before I could bring myself to say anything the room was filled with his snores, first very quiet and growing louder with every passing moment.
    He deserved to rest after a night of driving and homicide, and I decided to take this opportunity to charge my phone, something that had been long forgotten in my bag after my overdue dispute with my ex-companions. I held it in my hand and gawked at the piece of technology I simply did not care to return to.
    I opened the sliding glass doors to the bathroom nearly the size of Trevor’s trailer and made myself a seat on the cold tile beside the electrical socket. It took me a few moments to gather up the courage to plug my phone into the wall, knowing very well what kind of hate-filled messages awaited me.
    Of course there were the messages from the night of our arrival; the “Hey, we’re leaving where are you?” and “Where the fuck are you?” and “We’ll meet you back at the trailer.” Then from the following morning the, “Nora this isn’t funny.” and “Answer your fucking phone.” and “If you aren’t dead right now I’m going to be fucking pissed.” I supposed that was when I dragged my sorry self back to them because after that I had received nothing.
    I also had a number of voicemails, the first being from Quinn in her state of semi-caring for my well being, “Nora I’m actually freaking the fuck out right now, you better be dead or almost dead right now or you’re seriously in for it. I am going to fucking murder you in cold blood if you’re okay, I can’t believe you would pull this shit while we’re on vacation.” I felt no pity for having ruined her vacation, it had only made mine vastly better.
    The second voicemail was from my mother who I hadn’t seen since my Christmas travels back home to my family. Hearing the sound of her voice produced an abundance of strange sentimental emotions, “Hi sweetie, it’s your mom. I’m just calling to check up on you and hear about your trip but you’re probably completely drunk out of your mind right now so I don’t blame you for not answering your phone. I just wanted to say that I love you and hope you’re having fun!”
    Once again I was crying; the few months away from her and now this week even further away from her suddenly came crashing down on my parade of forbidden love and alcohol. I immediately deleted her message so I would not find myself tempted to listen to it again and amplify my downward spiral.
    I missed my home terribly. My dormitory was a four hour drive from my family so I had never felt quite so separated from them as I had now. On top of this I had the nagging and condescension from my so-called friends to make up for the nagging and condescension I would have experienced back home.
    For the first time since I had met him Trevor was absent from my mind, and all I could think about was home, home, home. My mom making me waffles for breakfast on my very first day of school then sending me off with a chuckle as I cried my heart out in fear, my old grey cat that mauled me when I tried to bathe it at the age of 7, the dreaded lasagna night and that time I told my mom to ‘fuck off’ without fully knowing what it meant; miscellaneous memories flooded my mind as I leaned onto the marble wall.
    I almost felt as though I had entered an alternate reality where I had no hopes of returning to my other life, assuming I had actually begun an entirely new life. To preoccupy my mind I opened a game of solitaire on my phone, how fitting it was to my moment of solitude seemed to cheer me up somewhat.
    A hot shower would do me very good, scalding hot and steaming my brain clear of sadness. I neatly arranged my shampoo, conditioner and soap bottles on the countertop of the bathroom vanity; I was almost shocked by my own reflection, having not seen it since the night of my arrival when I checked to see if my makeup looked presentable before entering The Janitor’s Closet.
    I still had smudged mascara orbiting my eyes, which were pink and inflamed from my bawling like a baby. My hair was tangled and my lips were lacking in some of their colour. As I observed my dark circles and frown and noted that whatever caused Trevor to look the way he did was likely contagious.
    I brought a baby wipe to my face and a comb to my hair and did my best to reveal who was really underneath all of the dirt, but still there was something about my face I couldn’t put my finger on. I knew it was impossible for me to have changed within the span of a few days and I likened this uneasy feeling to a purely psychological reaction to the changes that had occurred so suddenly in my life.
    I took off my torn dress and threw it into the porcelain trash bin underneath the porcelain sink. There were a number of instances of bruised skin around my neck and breasts evidently caused by Trevor’s affections; I could have connected them to form a new constellation.
    And there it was, my mind casually making its way back to him; I felt somewhat guilty about it as well. I told myself that I needn’t upset myself further and that I would return home and that I would see my family again and that I should be enjoying myself during my spring break even if circumstance had led me here with this man and even if I was not spending my time the way I had originally intended to.
    I took in deep breaths and stared at my reflection in an attempt to ground myself, but the same odd detachment from my own body prevailed and I was forced to look away. I brought all of my brightly coloured bottles to the large white walk-in shower behind the enormous off-white shower curtain, which was the closest thing to a colour I had seen thus far in the washroom.
    I twisted the white porcelain faucets labeled H and C respectively, using a heavy hand of the H; I had been absolutely starved for hot water ever since my arrival. The water and steam turned my skin pink with warmth and a tingling sensation overcame my entire body, I felt significantly purified as ridiculous as that may sound.
    As I scrubbed away at my arms with coconut body wash the hand that touched my shoulder was not my own and it did not startle me, in fact I didn’t even look back to see who it belonged to; it was all too obvious. The hands crept underneath my arms and onto my stomach where they remained stationary.
    “What ever happened to sleeping?” I asked him, hoping my eyes no longer showed any signs of the bout of crying I had so recently overcome.
    “You didn’t say anything about breaking in the shower without me, now did you?” Somehow his breath floating into my ear felt even warmer than the steam that filled the room.
    “I suppose I didn’t.” I smiled, it was nice to have his company again after feeling so isolated from everyone and everything. I turned to him and he laughed at the hickeys that covered my chest; I laughed at his horrendous dark circles and busted up lips.
    I wiped away the dried blood from his face and neck with hot water, making my way to his torso which was almost as bloodstained as his clothes had been. Oddly enough Trevor did not seem to have any ulterior motives for coming into the shower with me, perhaps he was simply far too tired for sexual endeavours; I found this incredibly endearing.
    After rinsing my hair I turned off the water so that I could divert my attention to Trevor’s healing thigh. He had abandoned all of his clothes in a trail throughout the bathroom, leaving specks of mud scattered about the tiles. It was bizarre to see him not covered in miscellaneous substances that had almost become a part of him.
    All that was left of Trevor was Trevor, freed from his layers of grime and clothing. I unravelled the dressings I had created around his leg to remove the final barrier between him and I. He played with my hair as I created new bandages for him out of hotel towels that I could trust were clean.
    I took him back to bed and he fell asleep almost instantly with his head resting on my stomach and his arms outstretched around my ribcage; he appeared child-like as he slept. I lifted the hair nearest to his neck to reveal an outline of a bird flying just above the dotted line that directed me where to cut. I pitted Trevor; he was a bird with useless wings.