The Color of Roses

Rows and rows of tiny bottles filled the top drawer of the white plastic storage cart beside Violet’s well-used massage table. Over time, she’d amassed quite the collection of essential oils- each one serving their unique purpose for any given mood. While she had struggled to keep her eyes open to the relentless late morning sunshine, Violet had determined it would be a chamomile type of day. She might even add some lime oil to her diffuser to round it out. The two glass bottles were easily found amidst the rest and Violet leaned against the edge of her massage table, staring up at the ceiling, with her petite hands closed tightly around them. Almost one on a Tuesday afternoon meant that her roommate should be at work already but she couldn’t remember hearing the telltale sounds of Bridgette rushing around the house and out the front door. Violet was notorious for avoiding the bathroom they shared, to the point of near urinary accidents, out of fear of her roommate trying to draw her into conversation. Nothing against the peppy art major but her vivacity unsettled Violet in a terrifying way.

Opening the bottle of chamomile, Violet smeared a drop on her index finger and held it under her nose. Her eyelids fluttered shut as the aroma calmed her nerves, her shoulders slowly lowered from their tense position at her earlobes; it was enough to get the cement out of her feet. Violet got her robe and towel from their hooks on her closet door and draped them over her arm before dropping her oils into her pajama pockets. She turned the doorknob excruciatingly slowly, careful to make as little noise as possible. Through the crack between the door and the jamb, Violet tried to listen for any sign of Bridgette and, upon hearing none, dashed across the hall and into the bathroom, promptly locking the door behind her. She let out a breath.

It was smooth sailing from there. Steaming hot water rushed out into the bear claw tub and Violet added a few drops of the chamomile oil. While the tub filled, she stripped off her striped pajama pants and matching shirt- they’d been a gift from her mother. As Violet reached for her electric diffuser from a shelf above the toilet, she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her face was as small as it had been yesterday, her skin just as smooth and porcelainlike, and her monolid eyes had not developed a crease overnight. She wasn’t tall enough for the mirror to reflect anything below her shoulders, so she looked down to take account for her slim torso and breasts that stuck out as much as her hip bones did. With a sigh, she gathered her long black hair into a bun and secured it with a hair clip that had been discarded on the edge of the sink. This is what full-grown looks like, she thought sardonically.

With the lime scented air flowing from her diffuser and the chamomile scented steam rising from the bath, Violet felt at peace. After her soak, she would be ready to finish up her homework and maybe even have dinner on campus before her night classes started. Violet smiled softly, knowing she’d never actually sit down to eat in the dining hall with all those people but it was fun to think that she could ever do something that normal.