Down Low

Tuesday afternoon I awoke to a package placed beside my bed. I closed my eyes and tried to shake off the cloudy feeling of first waking up as I slowly pushed myself up into a sitting position. The sunlight outside shone brightly. What time is it? I vigorously rubbed my eyes, only to find a large smear of black mascara on my hand. Classy. I lethargically peered over at the digital clock on my nightstand. It was already 2 o’clock, yet I could smell the welcoming scent of quiche and coffee wafting up towards my room and hear Lily humming softly to herself. I smiled. What a wonderful way to wake up. After cracking my neck and stretching out my back (which was accompanied by an obnoxious yawn) I bent down and picked up the package from the carpet. I opened it up, bewildered. I didn’t order anything and no one from back home knew my new address aside from Lucas. I eyed the box with a weary expression as I gingerly removed the tape. For all I knew, it could’ve been a bomb or something. Don’t judge me. Anyway, underneath all of the layers of bubble wrap was a black knee-length dress. The skirt was pleated and the top half had a bit of a bustier styling to it and was covered in black lace. Taped to one of the box flaps was an envelope that entailed directions for taking care of the dress on the front and a short, handwritten letter on the back. It read:

Dear Elizabeth,

I could feel the pain welling up again. I sat there cross-legged on my bed and rested my mouth down on my fist, shaking. I looked up at the ceiling, trying to suppress the need to cry. I closed my eyes tight, rubbed my temples and took a few deep breaths. It wasn’t really helping much, but fortunately Lily ran into my room and rushed towards me.

“Oh is this your bridesmaid dress? I personally don’t agree with black at a wedding, but it sure suits you!” At that, I had to chuckle. Lily’s charisma was another reason why I couldn’t stay sad for very long. She always looked at things like a child, as if it were her first time seeing something so amazing. That kind of outlook on simple things really made you appreciate her being around.

“But where are the shoes? Surely she sent you shoes!” She stated, rifling through the package.

“No, there wasn’t any in there. I’m not a bridesmaid, anyway. I’m Lucas’ best um…man.” I looked up and smiled. Lily’s face was contorted oddly as she tried to process what I just said.

“Oh…kay. A little unorthodox, but what do I know? I’m just an old fart!” She ended happily.

“Lily, you’re only 37!” I laughed. She leaned over to place her arm on my shoulder and give it a tight squeeze. Then she slipped a fifty in my hand before walking out and mouthing ‘for the shoes’.

The gesture was really nice, and I was honestly starting to love her and accept her as my stepmother, but it just made everything too real for me. This dress and the money for the shoes just solidified the fact that things were changing. That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, I’ll admit. But what was changing was everyone and everything around me. I was still the same. I was still here, wading through my sad life trying to figure out what the fuck I’m supposed to be doing and frankly, I’m exhausted.

Nevertheless, I got up from my bed, put on my boots and my sweater and headed towards the bus stop. Might as well get the damn shoes. When I shop, I’m like a guy. I don’t usually just wander around and look at every store to possibly find something better. So what I did was find some nice, sensible black heels that weren’t too high or flashy and bought them. They were only 30 pounds too. On my way out of the shoe store, I made eye contact with Alex. He sauntered up to me happily, slinging his arm around my shoulders and talking about something I didn’t really find important. I heard the words come out of his mouth. I could detect the varying emotions he was eliciting, but I wasn’t actually listening to him. And please don’t think that I was ignoring him on purpose. I really like Alex, but all I could focus on was how the shoes in the bag I was holding felt more like an anchor pulling me down underwater. After a few minutes of walking side by side, I felt Alex nudge me.

“So do you think it’s a good idea? Should we do it?” He asked me wide-eyed and grinning.

I nodded my head with a smile and answered, “Yeah, totally! That’s a terrific idea. When and where, man?” Alex nearly doubled over with laughter before walking off ahead of me. I shouted ahead for him to stop, and caught up with him.

“I just asked you if you wanted to put arsenic in the cakes at the Hummingbird Bakery,” he laughed. I sunk down deeper. “I think you should really see someone about your homicidal tendencies, you lunatic.” I looked down at my feet and breathed out a pathetic apology, before simply walking away. Being himself, Alex followed me and began to argue.

“Why do you always fucking do this? Why do you always walk away from me? God, will you fucking speak to me?” He yelled. I turned around ready to let out an infuriated retort, when he gasped loudly and roughly grabbed my left wrist. I knew I had my hand in a tight fist, but I didn’t notice that my nails dug so deep into my palm that I was bleeding. He looked back up at me with a pained expression on his face and asked, “What is wrong with you?”

My body reacted instinctively - sending the electronic pulses through to the muscles in my arms and legs and making me run. I dropped my bag in the process. It would’ve slowed me down. I no longer cared what happened in my life. There was definitely something wrong with me. I don’t know why I feel how I feel. I know that this isn’t normal. I know that a person my age shouldn’t have had to deal with or witness the things I have. Life just fucks you up.

And now I’m back where I was, losing the last remnants of oxygen as I finally sink to the ocean floor.