Knight & Day

Lock Down

+Phoenix+

I stood over my kitchenette sink in a t-shirt and panties, rinsing the last of my dishes and transferring them to the drying rack. I had spent all day tending to my house chores and this was the last thing on my to-do list. Afterwards, I planned to pour myself a glass of the generic brand Moscato I'd bought last minute after running into him while food shopping with Alicia last week, and sprawling out on the couch to listen to my music and temporarily free my mind. It was the perfect end to my night and I was excited for the rare opportunity to relax.

After placing the last cup into the dish rack, I rinsed my now prune looking hands one last time and shut off the faucet before drying them on a dish towel. I sighed in contentment as I surveyed my spotless apartment. There was something about having a clean house that put me at ease. I figured it was because everything else in my life was always so complicated and cluttered. I had no real control over most things, I just sort of had to make the best of what I was given. But my house and it's cleanliness always brought me peace. No matter how small and insignificant the symbolism of it was, cleaning quieted my racing thoughts and stilled my fluttery stomach whenever I was on the verge of a panic attack... and I appreciated it for the coping mechanism it was.

Placing the dish towel on the counter, I opened my small vintage refrigerator and pulled out the heavy glass bottle of pink Moscato, twisting the screw cap and pouring it into one of the plastic cups I had just washed. The first sip was the definition of bittersweet. I wasn't huge on alcohol, and as a matter of fact, I usually avoided it altogether. The taste alone was enough to make me steer clear. But it'd been a while and I was in the mood for a light buzz tonight to completely bask in my relaxation. The sour yet sweet, fizzy drink bit my tongue as I enjoyed the instant tingles alcohol tended to cause me. I was definitely a lightweight but I couldn't bother to be ashamed about it.

Taking another sip, I grabbed the neck of the bottle and made my way over to the old leather couch which took up most of the floor space in my small living room. I placed the bottle on the floor as I had no coffee table, and rummaged through my purse in search of my outdated touch screen phone. Scrolling through my rather large folder of illegally downloaded music, I smiled when my eyes landed on one of my favorite songs. I tapped it and waited a few seconds as it buffered before the soulful sounds of Ms. Erykah Badu herself flowed through the small speaker. I took a few more generous sips as I hummed along to '20 Feet Tall'.

My love what did I do to make you fall so far from me?

And how, I can't recall cause of the fall selected memory...

Then you, you built a wall...

A 20 foot wall...

So I couldn't see..

If I get off my knees I might recall I'm 20 feet tall.

Ooh, eh

I'm 20 feet tall...

Ooh, eh

I'm 20 feet tall...

The melodic words mixed with my quickly increasing inebriation propelled me into thoughts of past relationships. Erykah had struck the nail on the head with this tune. It applied to so many of the men I'd encountered. How I'd let insecurities and self-loathing blind me to what was right in front of my face, or in a lot of cases, simply choose to look in the opposite direction. I'd allowed myself to forget that I deserved more than the things I chose to accept. So many times I'd forgotten that I was better than just some man's bed warmer, another man's punching bag, and another's wallet with legs. There was only ever one man who never seemed to want anything from me but my time and attention. And even in that, he often times gave more than he got... in more ways than one.