Bathtub
Bathtub
She is sitting across from me. Snow falls like petals from a tree as the breeze coming through the frosted window tickles the back of my neck. The bathtub we have tucked ourselves into is barely big enough for the both of us, our knees touch as she leans in, her long hair falling like a veil across the left side of her face. The bass of the party roars on into the night as I tuck my numbing hands into my coat pockets. Her crimson lips curl into a smile as I shiver slightly, pearls of innocence sit in her mouth, daring the spectator. I know better.
She turns her face towards the spectacle watching as the sky lets down its torrent of whiteness, staining the street with a pure dusting, calm and serene. But I know better. Once morning comes, those gentle flakes of crystal will melt and turn into sludge, coating the streets in sloppy layers of greyish matter. Like the weather, the girl in front of me is just a facade. Under her gossamer trench coat and her perfect cherry lips, is a poised fox; sly, cunning, unassuming.
After six years of classes with her i’m still not sure who she is. She’d tell you you’re friends, but be careful when you turn your back, that’s when the daggers are unsheathed and her mask melts off. Loyalty sounds unnatural on her tongue, it rolls around over layers of lies and eventually slides down her throat only to be choked up hours later along with the bottle of vodka she stole from your pantry cupboard.
From this close I can see the makeup lines, her mascara slightly smeared at the edges of her tired blue eyes, her ashen blond hair scraggy, scruffed out of its poised up-do. She watches me fidget as I watch her think. Her eyes tick over my hair, my face, down my arms to my feet. Her calculating gaze leaves me with an empty pit in my chest. Her artificial smile lights up once again, stretching and crinkling her bronzed cheeks into disfigured proportions.
“Well here we are again.” she slurs.
I think she will tell me how I have betrayed her, that I am an awful friend. But she just smiles.
“You’re not a good person” she hums to me.
‘Thats rich’ I think. Coming from her. But I don’t say this, I just look back at her, tired and a little bit sad. Her mouth twitches waiting for a response. I give none. The grating of her nails on roughened edge of the bath, worn down from years of use, sends shudders down my spine and my jaw clenches, grinding my back teeth to keep from screaming. The silence is deafening, thats what she wants, to have control, thats all she ever wanted.
*************
I hear him before I see him. The boy with the bright eyes and silken voice that holds the hearts of the masses crunches through the frosted grass, his neck hunched into his coat, hands in pockets bracing against the squealing wind.
“Are you going to bed?” he calls across the dark to me as I unroll my mud stained sleeping bag on the rough metal tray of my dad’s old ute that he’d lent to me for the weekend. His eyes are unfocused, dulled in the half light cast from the cab of my truck, but in the early light of the morning you’d swear they were golden, flecked with embers of bronze. I see the click of understanding as he flicks his gaze between my makeshift bed and myself. He turns away and for a second i’m sure he’s going to leave, but instead he drags over his rolled up cargo-green swag from under his car and lays it next to mine, unlatching the straps, sending a cloud of red dust, kept as keepsakes from nights unknown to me, into the air. And thats how it all started. Like a ball rolling down a hill, we bounced and dodged an infinity of obstacles, but when we were grabbed, and thrown into a box, full of other miscreant items, I’d had enough. That goblin, whispering in the ears of the blind and the helpless, she that grabbed us and pried our intertwined hands from one another with burning iron rods, for a second, held us firm and separate. But that didn’t last long. He found me, patient and waiting for her grip to falter. She saw me as the villain, of course, what else would you expect. She has tunnel vision. Her target was him and I was the thing standing in the way. I’ve seen her true colours, the underside of her Chanel perfume haze, littered with lipstick smudges, and words that would make a sailor blush. Her voice once a gentle lull now carries the dark lacing of venom.
My eyes flick up and I see her, arms pressed the the porcelain walls of the tub, legs hunched to chest, and for now, I feel calm. Gone is the bitterness she let creep into my bones. Gone is the jealousy that coiled itself around both heart and head. Gone is the cold.
So, as I make my way back to my friends, to the people that I love, and know love me, I am overcome with happiness. I know that despite my flaws and my inadequacies, I am genuine to myself and those around me, which is more than I can say for her. The snow continues to descend on our little world. I walk outside and feel the soothing tingles against my skin as he slowly wraps his arms around me and in that moment as those tiny icicles melt against my cheeks I feel warmth.
She turns her face towards the spectacle watching as the sky lets down its torrent of whiteness, staining the street with a pure dusting, calm and serene. But I know better. Once morning comes, those gentle flakes of crystal will melt and turn into sludge, coating the streets in sloppy layers of greyish matter. Like the weather, the girl in front of me is just a facade. Under her gossamer trench coat and her perfect cherry lips, is a poised fox; sly, cunning, unassuming.
After six years of classes with her i’m still not sure who she is. She’d tell you you’re friends, but be careful when you turn your back, that’s when the daggers are unsheathed and her mask melts off. Loyalty sounds unnatural on her tongue, it rolls around over layers of lies and eventually slides down her throat only to be choked up hours later along with the bottle of vodka she stole from your pantry cupboard.
From this close I can see the makeup lines, her mascara slightly smeared at the edges of her tired blue eyes, her ashen blond hair scraggy, scruffed out of its poised up-do. She watches me fidget as I watch her think. Her eyes tick over my hair, my face, down my arms to my feet. Her calculating gaze leaves me with an empty pit in my chest. Her artificial smile lights up once again, stretching and crinkling her bronzed cheeks into disfigured proportions.
“Well here we are again.” she slurs.
I think she will tell me how I have betrayed her, that I am an awful friend. But she just smiles.
“You’re not a good person” she hums to me.
‘Thats rich’ I think. Coming from her. But I don’t say this, I just look back at her, tired and a little bit sad. Her mouth twitches waiting for a response. I give none. The grating of her nails on roughened edge of the bath, worn down from years of use, sends shudders down my spine and my jaw clenches, grinding my back teeth to keep from screaming. The silence is deafening, thats what she wants, to have control, thats all she ever wanted.
*************
I hear him before I see him. The boy with the bright eyes and silken voice that holds the hearts of the masses crunches through the frosted grass, his neck hunched into his coat, hands in pockets bracing against the squealing wind.
“Are you going to bed?” he calls across the dark to me as I unroll my mud stained sleeping bag on the rough metal tray of my dad’s old ute that he’d lent to me for the weekend. His eyes are unfocused, dulled in the half light cast from the cab of my truck, but in the early light of the morning you’d swear they were golden, flecked with embers of bronze. I see the click of understanding as he flicks his gaze between my makeshift bed and myself. He turns away and for a second i’m sure he’s going to leave, but instead he drags over his rolled up cargo-green swag from under his car and lays it next to mine, unlatching the straps, sending a cloud of red dust, kept as keepsakes from nights unknown to me, into the air. And thats how it all started. Like a ball rolling down a hill, we bounced and dodged an infinity of obstacles, but when we were grabbed, and thrown into a box, full of other miscreant items, I’d had enough. That goblin, whispering in the ears of the blind and the helpless, she that grabbed us and pried our intertwined hands from one another with burning iron rods, for a second, held us firm and separate. But that didn’t last long. He found me, patient and waiting for her grip to falter. She saw me as the villain, of course, what else would you expect. She has tunnel vision. Her target was him and I was the thing standing in the way. I’ve seen her true colours, the underside of her Chanel perfume haze, littered with lipstick smudges, and words that would make a sailor blush. Her voice once a gentle lull now carries the dark lacing of venom.
My eyes flick up and I see her, arms pressed the the porcelain walls of the tub, legs hunched to chest, and for now, I feel calm. Gone is the bitterness she let creep into my bones. Gone is the jealousy that coiled itself around both heart and head. Gone is the cold.
So, as I make my way back to my friends, to the people that I love, and know love me, I am overcome with happiness. I know that despite my flaws and my inadequacies, I am genuine to myself and those around me, which is more than I can say for her. The snow continues to descend on our little world. I walk outside and feel the soothing tingles against my skin as he slowly wraps his arms around me and in that moment as those tiny icicles melt against my cheeks I feel warmth.