Lovers End [h.s]

☆ Forty-two ☆

CONSTANCE BANE

Little Women, a cigarette, and a glass of deep, red wine — not too dry, not too sweet.

One of Lela's favorites. A wine she always kept in the fridge.

I felt a satisfaction of sorts. Sitting in my freedom, enjoying something that she liked to do on her weekends to wind down.

It felt like I was taunting her without her even knowing, and that was enough for me — at least for now.

I was saving the last chapter of Pride and Prejudice for when I got to see Harry again. But I wasn't ready to go back yet. So until then, I would be reading another book until Rue had to leave, and then, so would I.

That's what my last two days were made of. Staying closed up in the hotel room with Rue.

Thinking about anything and everything, and feeling sorry for myself.

That's how Rue found me on the bathroom floor yesterday, my knees bent flat against my chest, my back against the wall and my fingers gripping the strands of hair that I had cut off just as my other hand with the scissors finished cutting the last strands.

There were tears streaming down my face, but no noise came out. Silent; as if no one was in the room. Only the occasional sound of people passing by through the hotel hallways with their suitcases and stiletto heels that made the floor shake with their every step.

I remember looking up at her, my bloodshot eyes zeroing in on the phone she was holding in her hand before looking up into her familiar, green as a rasped out the only request I had.

"Please play 'My Woman'," my fingers played with the strands of my shortened hair and I tried not to choke on my words.

Rue sat down on the tile floor right beside me, shoulder to shoulder. She turned on the song, grabbed the scissors from my hand, and signaled with her pointer finger for me to turn around.

"I would cut my brother's hair every so often. He wouldn't let anyone touch it, but our mom hated it shaggy and he would surprisingly let me cut it to get away from the hairdressers." I could imagine the small smile she had on her face as she remembered back to the memory.

I wanted to ask her about her brother, how he was doing, what his name was, where he lived. How her mom was doing, if she was still a cooking fanatic. But nothing I thought of came out of my mouth.

I just sat and let her work her magic.

I didn't feel her touch at all as she ran her fingers through my hair, evening out the uneven pieces of hair that hung too short or too long. I only remembered her finger pressing the replay button every time the song came to an end as if she knew I wasn't ready for the next one.

When she was finished, she handed me a small mirror, and I spent a while just looking at myself. My eyes were a little less red but I still looked like I was high out of my mind. My skin was pale and translucent enough to the point I could see some of my veins underneath my skin.

But that didn't matter because, even with these past two days being heaven and hell combined into one weekend, for the first time in a while, I felt pretty.