FicWad

Skin against skin
Covering bones of the body your in
Aggressively slim
You earned the clothes you put on
To cover up where you've been




Hedonism couldn't sum up what this shower had meant to me. Close-to-boiling water beating down on every inch of my body, scolding the surface harmlessly. These days, I worshiped these showers, this was my escape; my "me-time". Lavender-Vanilla scented shower liquid now took the place of cigarettes and every-now-and-then-vodka. Feeling those small streams of water pulsate and push against the ache and soreness of my muscles was how I relaxed now. Out went the steam and every problem I may have faced that day but never the life I used to live.

My hands travel, cradling myself. Softly smiling up to the shower head, eyes closed. My fingertips do the storytelling; feeling the small scars along my arms. They were almost extinct and so was the antagonist. Not often enough did I ask myself 'why'? Simply because I didn't have the answers. There was no telling how many 'other' options my conscious would remind me of, but everything happens for a reason. At least, that's what I believe, and I can only speak of what I know.

I knew a lot of this time was to reacquaint myself with her; the old me. She really wasn't, though. She wasn't a bad memory, she wasn't some harlot junky with a broken family, she was still apart of me. Though, rarely commemorated, she never strayed. I'd seen her everyday; at her best, at her absolute worst but always with that heart of contention. I had even seen her with him. His broad mind a spectrum of infinite thoughts and ideas, enough creativity for two beings. I heard his words, just differently. The voice wasn't his but the heart behind those words, that was his heart. And those eyes…I saw those, too.

The water betrays me and shoots me with an arctic blast, taking me out of my train of thought. Quickly grabbing for the knobs, I shut the water off. With a satisfied sigh, I grab the navy anagram towels on the rack. I cackle to myself. Anagram towels. I wrap it around, comforting myself from the chill. Stepping onto the gray marble slabs that sat under the shower. I almost didn't recognize my own feet, they were as red as the backs of lobsters and swollen. Some of the mint polish had chipped off of my toenails since then. I had no passion to repaint them, I was a busy woman these days.


Breakfast sizzled under my nose. I know, I wouldn't believe it if I'd seen it myself; me--cooking? There I stood, in our kitchen, fully dressed in scrubs and raven ponytail neatly pulled back behind my ears. Hair dried and straightened down to my shoulder blades. This was far from a dream, this was life for me now. Though, it had its road blocks and occasional pile-ups with set-backs and disappointments, I sincerely enjoyed it.

I turn the burner off as the scents begin to marry each other, blanketing the kitchen. I smile, turning away. I leave the kitchen going through the living room and entering the hallway. A door painted a light shade of violet, covered in decals of realistic monarch butterflies. My fingertips pushed the door ajar. That smile on my face slowly growing wider as the door opens. I stand in the doorway, and all I can do is marvel. Clutching my hands together in front of me. She made me everything I am. She justified everything I was. I was given this strength by her, it made me feel like I could think about the past and laugh. Think of how stupid I was and how young I'd been. I never sulked or pitied myself anymore. On the other hand, I couldn't imagine having helped create someone so extraordinary. But she gave me the confidence to believe that I had been half of her. She was a constant reminder of never settling for anything but the absolute best.

I move into the room slowly. Her slumbering body lie peacefully under her Minnie Mouse comforter. I frowned slightly, not wanting to disturb her. Her upper body moved slightly as I sat on her mattress. I sat with my hands on my knees for a little while and then I couldn't help but to smooth the raven tendrils out of her face. Her eyes slowly flickered open. His eyes. Those butterflies released themselves and chased each other around in a frenzy. Those little green lights lit so many dark days and nights that seemed infinite but it was all worth it when she was at my side.


"Good morning, Amaya." I didn't want her to have a traditional name upon having the forethought of not rearing a traditional child. She was born on the night of a torrential downpour that wouldn't let up for anything. My fondest memory being looking into those blue-green eyes as she gurgled questioningly at the woman who held her. And slowly across her soft nubile pink lips, grew a toothless smile. An ironic giggle to follow as I noticed the beating upon the hospital windows had stopped. In that moment, I felt cleansed. She was my path to renewal. My night rain.

"Morning, Mommy," That smile never failed across her cherub shaped face. Her small arms wrapped themselves around my neck, pecking me on the cheek. I, like any mother would, showered her with kisses. Her giggles filled the air as the sun rose in our apartment. The light beat against the windows softly, as the corner of something under her pillow caught my eye. "Is that breakfast? It smells good!" I snapped my eyes back to her, never minding whatever it was.

"Why, yes it is," She swings her legs over the side of the bed. "Let's get you breakfast so we can leave on time for once!" I stressed. I was never good with punctuality and neither was he, she inherited it honestly. She skipped out of the bedroom, grabbing her robe on the way out. My eyes were still fixed on the possession she held under her pillow. I waited until her footsteps were no longer audible to quickly retrieve it from under the pillow with just fingertips. My heart stopped, as it should, seeing his smile and those eyes. Healthy, he was and happy he had been--without me.

Sticking it swiftly in the breast pocket of my scrub top, I continued the rest of my morning routine laying out her school clothes. Puzzling myself on how she could have gotten that photograph, readying myself for all of he questions that she may pose. She was only six, how would I even begin to explain everything?

With an awaited exhale, I rinsed all thoughts from the surface of my racing mind. Going into the kitchen, the refrigerator sat open with small kitten slippers peaking from under it. I moved to the cabinets withdrawing porcelain plates and mugs. Setting the table, I turn to see her cradling a carton of OJ, peach preserve and margarine in her small arms. I giggle softly to myself grabbing them and placing them on top of the table.

"Come sit," I pull the chair out for her. Going back over to the stove to fill her plate with scrambled eggs with cheese, bacon, breakfast sausage and toast. I slide the plate over to her. "How was school yesterday?" With her fork, she pokes through the plate straightening everything out making sure they didn't touch.

"It was fine. I have a trip to the Central Park Zoo next month," I nod, loading everything on a plate for myself, sitting down and pouring orange juice for the two of us. "Meghan's having a Halloween party and she wants me to come."

"That's cool! What are you going as?" A wonder-some expression takes the shape of her face.

"Pocahontas!" She proudly declares. I loved her optimism, I admired it mostly. "Do you work late again, tonight?" Her eyebrows furrow in my direction.

"Nope. I'm off at five so that means I'll have time to pick you up from Piano and maybe we can catch a movie after." Being a Registered Nurse, a regular 9AM-5PM shift was something celebratory. I hated spending time away from her and not being able to tuck her in at night but I had help.

"No Ms. Donna today?" Her voice saddens as she starts picking at her toast.

"Ms. Donna needs a break, babe. You'll see her this weekend, though. Promise." Her demeanor changed drastically. I didn't want to admit it to myself, but I slowly started to feel as if I was the estranged parent in this situation. My mind began to spiral out of control thinking that she'd known more about her father than she did me. Seeing his mother as more of a dependent than she saw me. It hurt a some but it was no one's fault but my own.

"Hey," She'd hopped off of her chair and finished her plate. Wrapping herself around my neck like a warm scarf. "I love you, Mommy." She whispers and just like that--all of those probing thoughts are erased.

"Love you too, baby," I looked up into her round face framed by a mane of long raven hair with small hints of autumn. "Now go get dressed. Don't wanna be late," She nods and skips back into her bedroom. "And don't forget to give me that permission slip!" I call after her.

I looked down at my pocket again. Those thoughts may have gone away, but I heard the voice in the back of my mind telling me that it was time. She'd already known who he was so it was time for me to stop running. Hiding and letting selfish reasons cloak my ideas. I didn't want her growing up unknowing of the man she resembled most. I didn't want him to go on not knowing that he'd gone half on something much more brilliant than any album or comic. It was time for me to finally stop pretending.