Breathing Slowly Never Worked For Me

My eyes widened as the cool, bright light fell through the blinds. The sheets fell around my waist as I sat upright and pushed my hair from my face. I relished this time of year in Las Vegas, when the mornings would remain cool before heated by the desert sun, as the hours of the day would pass. I swung my legs over the side of the bed, carefully so as not to make any noise, and let my bare feet glide over the floorboards before reaching the adjoining bathroom. I felt sick from lack of sleep and my head was light on my shoulders. I began to run the water in the shower, holding my hand beneath its spray every so often. I groaned as I realised it wasn’t getting any warmer. “Dammit, Ronnie,” I growled under my breath, guessing he hadn’t paid the bill resulting in the water being cut off. I turned the tap sharply to stop the chilled spray of water and let my dark hair out of its bun, raking my fingers through it. I frowned to myself as they caught on a knot and reached for the hairbrush beneath the sink. As I glanced in the mirror fixed to the wall, I could see Ronnie sprawled over the bed in the next room. The apartment was smaller than that I had shared with Max only months before, that much was certain. I sighed and washed my face, grimacing at the dark circles beneath my eyes and the way my cheekbones seemed to jut out. “Lindsey,” Ronnie called. I jumped slightly at the sound of his voice.

“In here,” I replied hoarsely. Ronnie appeared in the doorway, leaning lazily against its frame, and lit a cigarette.

“What are you doing up?” he asked gruffly. I met his eyes in the mirror and quickly turned around.

“Look at my hands,” I said holding them out to him. My long bony fingers were bruised and covered in healing scratches. My nails were bitten to the quick, so much so that they would often bleed, and stained yellow from the nicotine.

“Lindsey,” he groaned, the cigarette smoke seeping out from between his lips.

“No, really,” I urged, “Look at my hands.” He gave me a sideways glance, but took my hands in his, letting his cigarette balance on his lower lip. He turned my hands over a couple of times and ran his thumbs back and forth over my rough skin.

“They look fine to me,” he mumbled and turned to leave the room. I sighed, and held my hands in front of my face, turning them over just as Ronnie had. “Lindsey,” I heard him call my name from the bedroom again, “Lindsey, come back to bed.” I nodded, but remained in the bathroom, running my scarred hands over my stomach and ribs. I frowned at the greyish color of my skin and the way my flesh seemed to sink between my ribs. “Lindsey,” Ronnie called.

“I’m coming,” I replied, letting my eyes linger on my reflection for a moment longer before returning to the small bedroom Ronnie and I shared.

Ronnie was laying face down on the bed, his pale skin and heavily tattooed arms bright against the navy blue sheets. His cigarette was balanced carefully in the glass ashtray beside our bed, still lit. “Ronnie,” I said, climbing on top of him.

“What?” he muttered, burying his face deeper into his pillow. I glanced around the room, pulling a face at the flaking paint on the walls, which seemed to get worse with each passing month. An old suitcase sat in the corner where it had been for three weeks now, ever since Ronnie had gotten home from tour. His clothes were spilling from its top and strewn carelessly across the room.

“Ronnniiieeee,” I called again, lightly singing his name.

“Mmmhmm?” he hummed in response.

“Did you pay the water bill?” I asked, rubbing my hands up over his shoulders, trying to get his attention. I felt him shrug beneath me.

“I don’t know,” he replied and pointed in the direction of the door, “Check the kitchen.” I sighed, climbing off of him and making my way to the kitchen in the direction he had pointed. Sure enough, on the counter top by the refrigerator was a stack of bills in opened envelopes marked with a bright red stamp: ‘Overdue’. I quickly flicked through them, locating the water bill and returned to our bedroom.

“Ronnie,” I groaned, “You said you’d pay these before you left.” I turned the bill over in my hands and opened it. My eyes scanned the bill for the month’s total. “How are we supposed to afford this?” I fretted sitting beside Ronnie on the bed. He moved his head slightly on the pillow to look up at me but I was too intently focussed on the bill in my hands.

“Don’t worry about it,” he muttered, taking the bill from my hands and throwing it across the room, “I’ll pay it.”

“Yeah? When?’ I asked sarcastically, crossing my arms tightly over my chest.

“I’ll pay it, Linds,” he replied, reaching out and wrapping an arm around my waist, “I promise.” I exhaled sharply.

“You know, if you’d just put everything in my name, I’d be able to pay them,” I told him, knowing what his reply would be.

“Then marry me,” he said, pulling me close to him.

“Ronnie,” I warned.

“Marry me, Lindsey,” he repeated, “Then everything would be in your name.” Everyday since we had moved out of Max’s place, Ronnie had asked me to marry him. And everyday my answer would be the same.

“Or you could just call up and change it,” I replied, trying to squirm from his grasp.

“Is that a no?” he asked, a familiar smirk spreading across his face.

“No.”

“Is it a yes?”

“No,” I said again, lying down beside him. Ronnie laughed softly and was quick to straddle me, placing long, heated kisses along my bare shoulders and collarbones.

“Go pay the water bill,” I giggled, pushing him off of me.

“Fine,” he sighed, grabbing the bill from the floor and leaving the room. I bit my lip softly as my eyes followed him out. “Hey baby girl!” I rolled my eyes as Ronnie called me from the kitchen, “You want breakfast?”

“Yeah,” I replied just as my eyes caught a glimpse of my reflection in the full-length mirror on the far wall. My sallow skin and bruised legs, my dull hair and gaunt face. “You’re an absolute mess, Lindsey Paige,” I muttered to myself.

“Lindsey! You coming or what?” Ronnie shouted, his voice echoing through the apartment.

“An absolute mess.”