FATE

66. Matters Of The Heart

BROOKE

How long will this go on?

Over the past week, I have cried so much that my insides now feel dry and I don't know if I can cry or think anymore. I do know that time seems to go by really fast yet really slow when you're on your bed wallowing in pain. You wake up just before noon, absolutely devastated by the fact that you have to continue and before you find the strength to do anything at all, it's six pm and what's the point of getting up at six pm?

I haven't been eating much. For some reason, matters of the heart are strong enough to take away one's appetite. I didn't want Mom to think I had died in my room so I let her in about three days ago. She dropped a tray of food on the bedside table, tried to get me to open up to her about what happened and then she left. My excuse is that I'm just homesick and I need time to get used to being in Seattle again. She seemed satisfied with that and then she went on a rant about how my room is stuffy and I need to go out more.

I don't feel like going out. I feel like if I stand up for too long, I'll crack and break like glass. It's pathetic how he managed to make me go from feeling so strong to feeling like a vulnerable body of glass in such a short amount of time.

Today, the loud honk of a car pulls me out of sleep and as I glance around the room, I realize how it's really a reflection of me since the breakup. Next to me on the bedside table, the dinner tray mom left last night remains untouched. I've been flushing the food down the toilet for a while now and surviving on the fruits she leaves and the stash of granola bars I bought at the airport. There are only two left so I may have to rethink flushing down all the food.

I roll out of bed and grab an apple off the tray. Then I take a deep bite out of it. The juice adds a little taste and flavor to my dry tongue. I glance around the room again. Not too far away from my bed is a small basket of wrinkled toilet paper. It's almost full and there is some littering around the basket.

I did a lot of crying.

The room is not really a mess because I haven't moved around much but the atmosphere is rather gloomy. I drop the half-eaten apple and motion to pull my clothes off for a quick shower. I have to leave the room for a quick trip to the kitchen and I can't afford being seen in my heartbroken state by Phil.

Phil likes to talk a lot about things that don't concern him.

I head to the bathroom. It's about the same size as the bathroom in my room back at the apartment in Boston. The tiles are pink. On the right end, the bath tub stands behind a pink shower curtain and on the left end, next to the water closet is the laundry basket filled with clothes. I need a distraction so maybe; I'll do my laundry once I find the strength.

I enter the tub first before turning on the faucet and soon the tub is almost filled with water. It's warm and soothing. I'm grateful it's big enough for me to stretch out inside the water with only my neck sticking out. I wish it was bigger though- as big as the lake in the cave Jonah took me to so I can take a swim in it.

I sigh. Even little things like the bath tub remind me of him.

When I get out of the bathroom, I slip on a different pair of sweatpants and a big sweatshirt. Then I pull my hair into a loose ponytail. On both sides of the window opposite the door are two tables. One of them is a reading desk, I'm not sure why there's a reading desk in my room when I'm not going to school in Seattle but for my own sanity, I have chosen not to question my mother's choices and decisions. On the other side of the room is a dressing table with Christmas lights around the mirror in front of it. I don't think I want to see my reflection in the mirror. I'm sure I look like a mess.