Waking Up

The white noise of humming water washed carefully over her own internal buzz. Janis Joplin’s voice hung over the meniscus above her head, distorted and disembodied. She had hoped to clear her head by drowning it. ‘1-2-3-4…’ Last time, she made it all the way to 57. Today, she only made it to 17 before she felt his shadow cast a cool blanket over her body. Reluctantly, she pushed herself up on her palms and broke the surface of the water. Janis Joplin was screaming now.

She looked up at him with dead eyes and forced herself to smile. It was becoming harder and harder to do. “Hey. You're home.” she cooed, reaching a wet hand out to his cheek. The touch of his skin pierced her. His warmth was a reminder that a heart beat inside of him; that she could break that heart, if she weren't careful.

He pressed his lips to her hand and grinned. “Yeah, isn't it great? Since it will be the first night we have had together in weeks, I was thinking we could go out and do something.” he said. He was right. It had been weeks since she had to face him for long. She had been grateful to the late nights alone. She had thanked God for keeping her away from him for as long as He did.

She tilted her head to the side, her eyes chasing a bead of water down her thigh. “When have I ever wanted to go out and do something?” Her voice was teasing but, in truth, she was exhausted by the outing before it had even begun. The ongoing joke about her anti-social nature was more grounded in reality than she ever led on. She just didn't have the energy for it anymore. It took all of the energy she had just to play the role for herself.

“Never, which is exactly why you have me.” His voice danced and she felt as if she could remember a time when she used to love that about him. She was sure she had. Now, she just felt overwhelmed by it. She couldn't force her voice to dance with his anymore. She had forgotten the steps.

“Alright. I will wear something other than my painting jeans and a t-shirt.” she said, gesturing to her pile of clothes on the floor beside the tub.

“Well, hurry up. I need to shower, too. Today was disgusting.” he told her, standing up and stretching.

“I will leave those details to you.” she replied and turned the knob to let the water drain out. For a split second, she watched it swirl around the drain. She couldn't explain why these small things caused her pain. She supposed the why’s didn't really matter anyway.

He turned down the radio as he walked out of the room, leaving her in a shroud of heavy silence. Now, she could hear her dying heart loud and clear and resented it. ‘Why is it so hard just to get out of the God damn bath?!’ her internal voice screamed. She jammed her palms against her eyes, the salt of her tears turning the remaining bath water into an ocean.

She shook her head, dispelling herself of the cursed feeling, and grabbed the towel hanging above her. Squeezing the towel against her chest in a sorry attempt to comfort herself, she sat naked and alone in the empty tub for far too long before getting out and drying off.

Examining her reflection in the bathroom mirror, she figured she passed as living, but she knew he would prefer her to gussy up before they went wherever they were going. Sighing, she pushed herself to put on her face- or, at least, the one she so frequently wore. She didn't recognize it anymore. In fact, everything in her life was unfamiliar to her now.

“Babe, you're beautiful. Stop fussing over your makeup and go get dressed.” she heard, returning to reality. ‘Right.’ she thought. With one last glance at her image, she braced herself for the night ahead.

‘You can do this.’

She passed through the hallway, briefly making contact with his body as he moved to the now vacant bathroom. She had helped to choose the artwork on the walls, the color scheme of the kitchen, the layout of the living room. The entire house echoed a voice she used to speak with but no longer recognized. She wondered what kinds of curtains and wall decal could speak for her now.

The thought was met with immediate anxiety over the kind of person she had become and she shook her head, reaching down to pet the fluff ball of a cat at her feet. He instantly began to purr and roll over and she was grateful to him for making her genuinely smile. Who could not find a bit of happiness at the sight of those big eyes and tiny paws?

Her admiration of her fluffy shadow was interrupted by a loud, unfamiliar noise erupting from the road outside. She stood up and looked out the enormous kitchen window, seeking the source of the noise. Although it was almost 7 pm, the sun still illuminated the cul de sac. The street was the picture of boring, a house identical to her own sitting across from her with a perfectly mowed lawn and a white SUV parked in the small car port. Nothing out of the ordinary, yet the noise still persisted and even grew louder by the second.

Her brows furrowed as she neared the window for a better view. She looked to the left and to the right but the only activity she witnessed was the wind rustling the thinly dressed tree branches. The noise grew uncomfortably loud, driving her to rush outside, desperately seeking the source so she could tell it to shut the fuck up before her brain exploded.

She stopped in the middle of the street as the sound began to attack her from all directions. She scarcely noticed her cat approach her as she knelt down on the pavement, dizzied by the sound. She must not have closed the door behind her. The world began to spin around her and she clutched her hands to her ears in a pathetic attempt to block out the noise. She could see that, while she was suffering, her cat seemed unphased by the deafening sound and more concerned for his owner.

She could only wonder whether or not he could even hear it for a moment before she felt a sharp knife cut through her skull, tearing through her nerves like lightning. She let out a muted scream and clawed at her ears and head, writhing in the middle of the otherwise silent street until her she could no longer see, hear or feel anything at all.