the things we do in the dark (+18)

3

Jonah is up at six in the goddamn morning, making a smoothie and blasting his workout music throughout their cabin. Startled awake by his morning routine, Iverem throws a pillow at Jonah when he crosses their bed to grab his wallet.

He leans over the bed to kiss Iverem. She burrows further into the bed to avoid his lips. "We're going to be late," Jonah says, pressing his body over her.

"I'm not going," Iverem says.

She was restless the whole night, half asleep and waking at the slightest noises. Iverem doesn't have the energy today to be Jonah's enthusiastic other half or anything else these people want her to be. Instead, she will go to the hotel restaurant today and order an English breakfast and journal till early afternoon. Since the party last evening, she's been thinking about Michael again. Thoughts of him will eventually lead to mood swings, and before she knows it, she won't be able to get out of bed. So, she writes to purge. To purge the memories of all those awful things he did to her as a child.

"Are you sure?" Jonah says, his green eyes studying her.

"I didn't sleep well last night," she says and then turns away from him.

Jonah sighs but doesn't question Iverem any further. He leaves without saying another word, and this worsens her mood.

To ease her building anxiety, she takes a long hot shower. She presses her forehead on the tile wall, inhaling and exhaling measured breaths. The rapid movement of her mind soon calms. Now, she can hear the water pouring from the shower faucet and her pounding heart.

But, one thought suddenly takes root: Augustine. She recalls the curve of his jaw, the sensuality of his eyes against the fullness of his lashes. Iverem whimpers when she imagines the taste of his mouth. But she doesn't touch herself. No, that would be too much of a betrayal to Jonah.

She jumps out of the shower before she reconsiders her choice.

Outside, last night's snowstorm left a fresh pile of snow on the ground. Iverem's boots sink into the snow as she walks to the main hotel building. By the time Iverem reaches the gazebo, hidden along the pathway to the hotel, she's dripping in sweat. Her puffer jacket is suffocating and causes her sweater to cling to her wet armpits.

The salmon stream by the gazebo is all ice, capturing sediments and aquatic plants. Her phone slips from her pocket as she takes off the puffer jacket.

Iverem's mother is calling her. And her mother never calls her.

"Yes," she says, picking up the call.

It's early afternoon in New York, and Iverem's mother is usually at work around this time. "I'm just calling to check up on you," she says.

"Yeah, we're good."

Iverem doesn't care to divulge. Her mother once made a choice, a terrible, selfish choice. Her daughter or her church, and she chose her church. She chose the man who raped her over her daughter. Iverem has nothing left to give to this woman. Never again.

Her mother sighs. "I guess I should just get to the point then." Though afterwards, there is a resounding silence.

"I'm busy right now, so what do you want?" Iverem says.

"I just decided to call you before things get worse. I've been forgetting things recently. I've been making stupid mistakes at work because of it," she says. "Things will be different from now on because of this."

"Ok, so..." Iverem's temperature has cooled down, so she quickly puts on the puffer jacket. But as her mother continues to grate her nerves, a headache quickly blossoms at the front of her head.

"I have early on-set Alzheimers," she says.

She should feel something, anything, about this announcement. She doesn't, though.