[title subtitle=”WORDS Sarah Phillips-Burger
IMAGE ND700/Shutterstock”][/title]
April’s body ached as she rolled over and nuzzled into her pillow, the wet fabric cool against her raw face. The memory hit her again, and it still shocked her, the pain of it. “I don’t see a future with us,” he had said. She gripped the comforter, bringing it tighter around her shoulders and held it against her chin as fresh tears rolled down her cheek and into her ears. She recalled trying to get him to change his mind, trying to get him to take it back, trying desperately to postpone the inevitable. But she failed. After two years together, they were done.
That was almost two days ago. She left his apartment and came home to her empty house. She pulled the dark curtains closed and crawled into bed, intending to slide into the quiet pool of her grief. Instead, it violently tossed and pushed her as though she were trapped in the turbulent waters of a river. She replayed that evening and their entire relationship over and over in her mind, trying to figure out what went wrong, feeling she might drown in the memories.
April rolled to her back and wiped her tears again. She heard thunder and looked around her dark room wondering what time it was. Her eyes burned, her mouth tasted bitter and stale, and her skin was sticky and smelled of sweat. The room that had cocooned her and all of her grief now felt heavy and thick as though it were slowly burning, filling up with smoke, on the verge of suffocating her. The next boom of thunder sent vibrations through her chest, and she propelled herself from bed causing her to become dizzy in search of the bedroom door.
The light that greeted her was still muted from the storm, and she looked around her quiet, clean living room and at the clock; it was midafternoon. She grabbed her phone on the bar and looked at her messages, her stomach dropping with the hope that he might have texted her. He did not, but her sister did the previous night, asking if she would like to go to dinner sometime soon. It seemed the rest of the world was still moving forward, oblivious to the major shift in her life.
She knew she should eat, but instead opted for a cup of coffee, blankly staring at the pictures on her fridge while it brewed. Their relationship was captured in these photos; holidays and vacations spent together, their arms around each other, kissing, smiling. It was evidence of their time together, their commitment to each other, of their love for one another. She searched his face in each one, starting from the most recent and working her way back, but they could not tell April when he stopped loving her. She looked at her own face and wished she could go back in time to the unknowing, before the veil was lifted.
She filled a large mug, adding extra sugar, and then found her favorite olive green sweater in the hall closet. She noticed that it smelled faintly of his cologne and gathered it in her hands, burying her face in the cashmere and inhaling the familiar scent before putting it on. She picked up her coffee and headed to the fireplace mantle where she laid a framed picture of them face down before heading to the porch.
When she opened the back door, the thunder welcomed her with a slow deep rumble, and she sat in one of the wood lounging chairs, pushing her back down into the deep arch. When she was younger, April had many boyfriends. Her mother even joked about her trying them on for size, only to toss them aside like an ugly shirt and moving on to the next. But now in her thirties, she couldn’t seem to find someone to share her life with. Her serious relationships always fizzled out. This one apparently had as well.
The rain picked up, spilling from the sky as the thunder answered the lightning. She was barely able to see through the curtain of water that poured off the roof. She looked over at the empty chair beside her and felt a deep sense of loneliness, pulling her knees up to her chest as the pain ravaged her again. Tears burst forth and she buried her face in her knees, wincing and crying out; hard, unrestrained sobs heard by only herself and the storm around her.
The wind blew, spraying cold water onto April, breaking the trance of her tears. She looked up and again, another gust sprinkled her tear-soaked face with cool drops. She closed her eyes, letting it wash over her as she inhaled the clean air deep into her lungs until she felt calm again. The rain slowed to a trickle, and April opened her eyes to see the sun pushing the storm clouds away. Drops of water fell from the pine trees that bordered her yard, sliding lazily down the needles and landing softly on the ground below. Robins appeared from their hiding places and splashed in the puddles, eyeing the ground in search of earthworms that emerged from the rain-sodden dirt.
April sipped her coffee for a little while, watching and listening to the goings-on around her before deciding it was time to shower. The hot water soothed her achy body, and she stood for a long time, relishing the warmth on her shoulders. She shampooed her hair, engulfing her, head to toe, in peach-scented bubbles. The Dove bar left her sensitive skin smooth and clean and she opted to rinse it with cool, soothing water.
Wrapped in a warm towel, she brushed her teeth and applied lotion to her skin. She wiped the mirror and her streaky reflection stared back, causing her to groan. She averted her eyes, not wanting to view the aftermath of the past two days before hearing a voice deep inside her. Don’t look away. She apprehensively glanced up, then decided she needed a better view before wiping at the moisture on the mirror again. Her eyes were red and puffy, her skin blotchy, her lips pursed and frowning.
She searched through the cabinet drawer until she found a small jar that promised to brighten and soothe her eyes. She dabbed the cool gel that smelled of cucumber and mint around them, paying special attention to the dark circles, and then applied her moisturizer. She bent forward, allowing her hair to cascade toward the floor, and towel-dried it before flipping it up, causing it to slap her back and shoulders.
She looked at her reflection again, at the long blonde hair cascading around her that was not her natural color, that took a great deal of time and costly maintenance, that he loved. As she brushed her hair, she began to think about all the concessions that she had made the past two years, either at his request or his suggestion or at hers to try to please him. She changed the hours at her job so that he could see her more, spent less time at her home because he didn’t like the long drive. She even stopped wearing heels because he liked being taller than she was.
A burst of anger pushed forth and hot tears threatened to pour down her face again. She blotted her eyes with a towel. No more tears today. She dressed in light blue jeans and a blush pink linen button-down shirt before blow-drying her hair. She changed the sheets on her bed, replacing the damp blue ones with a crisp white set, and started a load in the washer.
Then she made the rounds in her house, gathering up all the pictures and trinkets that reminded her of him and their relationship, and put them in a box under her bed. She placed her cashmere sweater on a chair by the door so that she would remember to get it dry cleaned. Picking up her phone, she went online and scheduled an appointment at her favorite salon for a cut and color, and then texted her sister, “How about tonight?”
They made plans to meet at Joe’s for pasta and wine, and April’s stomach growled in approval. She went back to the bathroom and applied her makeup, taking special care to even out her skin tone and brighten her eyes. She applied a light lip gloss and curled her hair away from her face, grateful that she would be getting it cut the next day and would no longer have to struggle with it.
She removed the diamond studs that he had given her and replaced them with rose gold drop earrings, a gift from her sister last Christmas, and then went to her closet and got down on her knees. Somewhere in the back, beneath empty purses and shoes of various types, she would find what she was looking for. It took her a few tries, feeling her way through canvas and leather in that dark space, but she was finally rewarded when she pulled out the nude Louis Vuitton heels, her most beloved pair. They felt perfect on her feet, as they always had, and she grabbed a navy blazer before heading out the door.
A breeze gently grazed her cheek, and she stopped to take in the sun setting behind the trees, the pinks and purples casting a tender glow on everything in sight. What was once chaotic was now calm. She turned the key in the ignition and took one last look at herself in the rearview mirror, grateful that her own storm would pass, too.
