Lights (2019)

Clean Up on Aisle 4

There is something so interesting about the walls when you're sad. 

The way the drywall seemed to form pictures in the mind's eyes. Or they way water droplets cascade down the shower tiles. I guess it is easier to form stories or have water drop races in your head than to think of what is actually going on. 

Everyone is walking on eggshells. Lottie sleeps in the other room, Eleanor occasionally will check on me, Louis and Jay bring me food, and my dad just watches me from the doorway before mumbling an 'I love you, kid.' All I do is lay in bed with mindless movies playing for sound, sleeping, and barely eating. I suppose that I have fully become Bella Swan in New Moon. 

There is a light knock on the door, but I don't even look up from my pillow. The door creaks open, and my bed sinks from the weight. I know it's my father; I can tell from the sound of his breathing and the weight of his footstep. His corse fingertips move the dark mound of hair away from my face, continuing to stroke the soft skin of my cheek. 

"Hey, kid," he whispers. "I know what happened."

I roll over and look at him with red sad eyes. His face looks tired and unshaven. He continuously smooths my hair back from my face. How did he know? 

"How?" I croak out, my voice rough and broken. 

My father's face hardens. "He told me." 

"Harry?" I ask, his name stinging my lips. 

My father nods. "He was sitting out on the curb a few days ago, I had to tell him this was private property."

"Dad," I sniffle at his attempt of a joke. 

"I figured he had to have done something to make you this way," he explains. "I really didn't think he would come clean to me so fast. I had half the mind to break his nose." 

My lips twitch into a smile. "Did you? Break his nose?" 

"Nah," he says. "He didn't deserve it."

"What do you mean?" 

"He didn't deserve the time," my father says grimly. "He kept asking me to knock some sense into him, though." 

"Did he leave?" I ask. 

"Yeah," he tells me. "I made him go home."

"What did he want?" I ask. 

"Said he wanted to explain himself," he says. 

"What more is there to explain?" I question numbly. He cheated, I think that alone explained enough. 

"I don't know, darling," my father mumbles. Suddenly, his soothing motion comes to a halt, and he shifts beside me. "Say, why don't I take you out shopping for your dorm room? It might be a nice distraction... or one of the girls could take you because I might not be the best help with all that girl stuff." 

In all that was going on, I have completely forgotten that I leave for college in a week or so. I have barely begun to pick up the things that I need to even live in the dormitories. I haven't even looked at textbooks for my classes. The hollowness of heartbreak is replaced with the weight of panic and stress. My mind is immediately plagued with planning.

"That might be a good idea," I say. My father smiles and places a kiss on my forehead before leaving me alone. 

I pull myself from bed for the first time in a while, I pull out new clothes (that aren't sweats or pajamas), and head for the shower. It feels good to wash the away the feeling of hopelessness. Once I am done, I wipe the steam away from the mirror and brush out my wet hair. I change into a pair of leggings and a loose t-shirt and dry my wet hair with a towel. I brush my teeth and rinse, and I start feeling like a person again.