Taking a deep breath, I turned from the door and approached the shower. Without looking at my hand—missing finger—or behind the curtain, I turned a knob so it would spray out the shower nozzle. I took off my wet clothes and left them on the floor behind me as I, with eyes closed, moved the curtain, then stepped under the spray.
All attempts to not sense the inevitable were in vain. Instantly, I felt taunted with the liquid connection. It kept me in a realm of insanity by hoping that what happened the day I died was true. Of course, I wished the day never existed, and my father was still with me, but since that wasn’t a possibility, I did hope it wasn’t all for nothing.
Maybe that was the connection to the water. A prayer, from a little boy who desperately hoped fate hadn’t taken away Dad without a damn good reason.
A vision of Dad, sitting on his Harley, entered my mind. His back was to me, but he peered over his shoulder and… smiled. And wouldn’t ya know it? In the vision, that damn yellow skully appeared in midair and blew toward me, as if riding his smile like a feather in a breeze. A breeze that reached me in a different manner than the water spoke to me, but there was a message still being delivered. I just couldn’t decode it.
That made the loneliness in the absence of my father erupt to the tune of ‘let’s pretend my life isn’t a pile of shit’.
Eyes still closed, my upper body leaned forward so the tiled wall could hold my exhausted heart. Fighting tears, I told my dad, “I miss you so damn bad.”
Warm water sprayed my developing back like a caress from someone who knew me well and wanted to comfort me. I was struggling to forgive fate, but maybe I could give in to my craziness and, for just a few seconds, let that someone in.
The lure was so enticing that my body, of its own accord, took a step back.
Okay, just for a moment, I’ll let it all in.
Welcoming the temporary escape, I lifted my head enough to keep the water from hitting my face, but to also give me the perfect view as I finally opened my eyes.
Surrendering can be mystic. It allowed space to see what others couldn’t. Blue, silver, white, and green sparkles floated through the streams of water and greeted me as if excited to see me. Excited for me to be willing to acknowledge their existence. To remember that water can cleanse… and it can also… heal.
Relief rippled through my whole body as if this sensation were truly real.
Deep inhale…
That’s when it happened. She flowed through me. A warmth welcomed me—rewarded me—for allowing this surrender.
It was so otherworldly, so comforting, I no longer cared if I was crazy or not. As if she were in front of me, in an invisible ghost form, my arm lifted and my damaged hand reached for her. However, there was nothing to feel in the physical form. Only in a spiritual one.
The sound of the water spray, the landing of every drop, held me in a trance so I could feel the little girl was older now, just like me.
And she was longing… just like me.
The internal warmth from my shower had a hunger rising to the surface. Once the water was turned off, the trance had been broken, and I reverted to mood swings stirring me back to life. The rain had calmed to a slight drizzle while we drove into town for dinner. However, I was already overboiling again. I couldn’t help it. The raindrops that sparkled, for only me, slid down the passenger window, beseeching me to join them. But with how my life had gone thus far, it dawned on me that I never would return to where my imagination had ignited. Realizing that set a fire inside me. The deep ache and longing for my friend clawed away at my nerves like the devil plucking at guitar strings, composing a shrieking tune.
One guitar string snapped. “How much longer will we be living here?”
I’d given up on some of her answers. Up to this point, Noma seemed to refuse altogether to tell me who killed or was responsible for Dad’s murder, but maybe asking different questions would lead to new answers?
Eyes on the road, Noma mumbled, “I see you are back to a shitty mood.”
I rested my nine fingers on the dashboard and gripped, wanting to throttle anyone I didn’t love like I loved her. “Not my fault. If I were more informed, maybe I could stop being an asshole.”
“A librarian can only offer the books in her library.”
Blink. Blink. “What the fuck does that mean?”
It was lucky I had been gripping the dash, or I might have been bruised by my seat belt as Noma slammed on the brakes so damn hard.
Horns beeped, headlights beamed throughout the Jeep, and a couple of cars flipped us off as they drove by. Noma didn’t give two fucks about them. Only me. And she told me all about it. “Listen here, you hormonal sinner. If you fucking curse at me one more fucking time I will rip out your fucking tongue and serve it to you like a fucking Hannibal Lecter goddamn brain dinner. Got it?”
Gulp! Maybe this is why Dad never challenged her. I released my aggressive grip on the dash and sat back in my seat. “Yes, ma’am.”
She dipped her head in a ‘thank you for remembering to respect me before I had to scalp you in the middle of this road’ nod.
Pressing on the gas, looking out the windshield as if she hadn’t just lost her shit, she replied, “We will live here for as long as we remain undetected.”
As always, she delivered what appeared to be a simple answer that was truly limitlessly complicated.
