For Starting Over

… I huddle down under my thick green quilt, the tattered edges comforting as I try to build a nest of safety around me for the night. My head throbs and I feel nauseous from crying so hard. - Why were those are last words? I whisper to myself through swollen chapped lips. I can feel my nostrils burning with another round of tears. The rain taps against the roof and my sensitive ears pick up the sounds of my mother rummaging through the kitchen below for tea. - A hot cup of tea solves everything… I chuckle sarcastically, knowing that a hot cup of tea will not even touch my hollow chest or thudding headache. -Suz? Hot cup of tea? A hot cup of tea can help just about anything… Mom doesn’t poke her head in, respectful of my absolute refusal to see or respond to any living soul, but her thin hand snakes around the doorframe holding a thick white mug crowned with fragrant steam. -Thank you, just leave it by the door… I say, clearing my mostly unused vocal cords. I know she probably feels miserable and alone, unable to fix things and feeling very uncomfortable with the obvious sobbing sounds I’ve been making. -Next to the three sandwiches? And the headache medicine? And the tissues? I can hear her worried and still slightly amused tone. Every thing she’s offered me since last night is crowded on the floor near the door, left at my instruction and completely ignored. The thought of sitting up or getting out from under this quilt makes me want to pass out. - Yes, please. - You should probably drink something. - I know, I will. - You should take a shower. - I know, I will. - You can call me for anything. - I know, I will. And with that she trudges back down the stairs, probably to snuggle sadly in the kitchen and wonder what thing might tempt me to sit up. I swipe at my face, puffy and sticky from tears and insomnia, my hair slicked back by unwashed grease, my armpits slightly itchy. Maybe a shower would help this headache, maybe then I could sleep for a few hours… days… weeks… sleep would help me escape this nightmare for a little while. In the shower, I slowly wash my face and hair. I was lacking all energy in my arms, fatigue from walking the ten steps from my room to the bathroom causing me to almost turn back in defeat to the faded green quilt nest I’d constructed. Mom had put the good shampoo in my shower, a temptation I had ignored yesterday, the smell of mint and rosemary tingling my nose and scalp pleasantly. I tried to focus on nothing except the feeling of the wide toothed comb sliding through my thick dark honey colored hair, clinging to my arms and back nearly all the way to my waist, the thick conditioner reviving the hair to its usual soft, glowing, health. I tried to laugh, but it came out as a hiccup, as I opened the grapefruit sugar scrub… temptation #2… and exfoliated. Poor Mom, she really had worried. Finally done with my long overdue cleanse, my thick lavender towel wrapped tightly around me, I did a slow investigation in the enormous bathroom mirror top to bottom. Hair, clean… the wavy length glowing like “honey in sunshine,” he’d said one time… stop, don’t ruin this. The puffy face mostly unpuffed, except for the blotchy redness that would take days to go away. My grey-green eyes seemed dull and lifeless and just sad, I needed to sleep… my lips could use a lip mask, but they were still full and pink, their Cupid’s bow shape still wobbled a bit if not pursed tightly against the sadness. My breasts, tightly wrapped in the towel, and my mostly flat tummy seemed unravaged bu my grief. I could tell I was a bit thinner from not eating, but the natural thickness of my hips and bum remained. Legs, long and shapely, and still unshaved… -That will have to wait for the next shower, pace yourself, Suze. At least you washed your hair. I pep-talked myself as I grimaced at the fuzzy knee caps peeking from the bottom of the towel. - Make it a goal with a prize … you shave your legs, you can go have a pedicure. But it has to be both legs and not just knees down… I nodded to my reflection with a salute in mock camaraderie. He would have laughed at that. The ache spread from my chest to my shoulders, tensing me back up instantly. Tea. Maybe tea could help… a little. -Mom, may I have a cup of tea? She whirled around so quickly at the groggy sound of my voice that she spilled some of her own healing tea. -Oh! Of course, I’ll make it. And you showered… I could see that she had heard the lengthy showering sounds and was trying to figure out the footing to proceed in conversation. -Um, yes…Thanks for the new soaps, they were … um… nice. I appreciate it…thoughtful of you… I rambled for a minute, seeing her eyes sparkle with happiness at the recognition and success of her gifts. I felt terrible about how I’d been treating her, not that she’d ever complain, but still… I’d basically become a house plant. - Of course, sweetheart! If you need… or want… or think of something that might… help?… let me know! I’ll run right out and get it! Mom gushed, her excitement and happiness flooding out of her. Her hands trembled a bit as she stirred the honey into my tea. -I will. I’ll let you know if I think of anything. And then I saw it, the newspaper on the counter, half shoved under the magazines and bills, but the headline visible… Local Boy Killed in Major Car Accident Suddenly, I saw black and knew nothing again.