CHRYSALIS

6

Things are bright again. The world isn't such a scary place right now. The fog has lifted and my brain is playing nice for the time being, it even let me enjoy myself out with my friends without worrying about them all being mad at me! We are making vast strides over the outlook I had a few weeks ago.

I'm enjoying my current mindset on the balcony of our apartment, sipping black coffee out of a mug that I stole from my dad's office, it makes me feel close to him. Nicki stayed with Pete last night which means I get a Sunday morning all to myself, a rare occurrence for the last 5 years or so. Marcus and I spent every Sunday morning with his parents at our apartment, from the first weekend I moved in until the very weekend I moved out, they were there without fail.

His mother would clean our kitchen after she made us a breakfast scramble and then we would play board games for a few hours until they went home for their afternoon church meeting.

Some days I think I miss them more than I miss Marcus, they were always so kind to me. His father always smelled like cigarette smoke and coffee, he owns a hardware store in town and you will not find him there without coffee in his hand and a stain on his apron, I adore that man.

His mother has hair that would put a texas beauty pageant mama to shame, that hair could last through a hurricane, I'm sure of it. She speaks quickly and laughs loudly, she never enters a room without being noticed.

Marcus was always a bit embarrassed of her but I loved every bit of it. At the time I was without a traditional mother of my own, but she embraced me as part of her family right away, said she could tell I was a good one and I'd never hurt her baby boy.

She hasn't spoken to me since the day Marcus told her that I left him. His dad called, asked if I needed any help moving and told me he was sorry to hear the news, told me he hoped I found what I was looking for.

I don't know exactly what I was looking for but its lead me to this morning, in my fuzzy pj pants and an LAFD sweatshirt that I acquired from a one night stand back in April.

Etta James is serenading me from my record player inside while I enjoy my coffee and a bowl of cereal in the cold morning air. Our wicker patio set was another thrifting find from an estate sale in Beverly Hills, it was too good to pass up. We had to tie part of it to Lizzy's roof to get it home.

I love mornings like this, quiet. I haven't uttered a single word out of my mouth today, just me and my thoughts hanging out, taking in the view from our balcony. Most of it is blocked by the building in front of us but over to the side a bit you can see some of the landscape of California, mostly brown but some pretty green bits make an appearance.

The shrill sound of my ringtone causes me to jump, spilling cereal milk on my stolen sweatshirt and causing the first word of the day to be "shit!" I set the bowl down quickly before answering the call from another unknown number.

"Hello?" my voice sounds rough from not being used today but I can't be bothered to care.

"Hello, I'm calling for Josephine?"

My face screws up in a strange look as I try to figure out who the hell is calling me.

Is that an accent?

"Hi, yeah this is Jo, who is this?"I try to sound less awful but I haven't spoken more than 3 words today so my voice is a bit fucked.

"Great! This is Harry. We met back in October on James's special and then worked together about a week ago..."

There is no air coming into my lungs. I am not breathing. I need to breathe but I don't think I can. I think I'm paralyzed from the inside out.