Kelli called earlier; she’d be finishing up the food and then she’d be on her way over. I warned her this place was a wreck. The house looked a mess compared to our usual standards – or should I say Hollis’s – but I didn’t care due to being in so much grief.
Over the past few days, as shock dissipated anger surged in its place, swirling around in the random caverns, filling any empty space in my soul. If it weren’t for the Ambien Kelli slipped me, I wouldn’t have been able to sleep at night next to Hollis. I still hadn’t the faintest idea how to confront him; I just knew it needed to be done.
I started up my Audible app on my phone, turned on my Bluetooth speaker and continued listening to Rachel Vincent’s Menagerie. It was a moving story about a woman named Delilah in an alternate reality where human mutants existed – only to be hated and treated inhumanely. The story is dark, moving, grotesque, yet so eloquently scripted and narrated that you feel like a character inside the book.
Starting with the kitchen, I cleaned the dirty dishes in the sink. There weren’t many, considering Jordan ate out all week, but the residue on the plates was caked on, and they needed a good soaking. I had to clean by hand because there weren’t enough to justify running the dishwasher.
The heat of the water was semi-soothing through my dish gloves. I struggled to remember the last time I treated myself to a spa day, or even a bubble bath. It had been a little rough getting those things done when I had Jordan all summer. I’d also been trying to chase after Hollis and get him to make love. But clearly, that wasn’t on the menu.
Cleaning out the fridge was easy. I had two packages of meat that needed to be cooked, and some produce that went bad. Since the shelves and pantries had been organized last month, they were okay. Before mopping, I set the meat on the counter as a reminder to come back to it after the floors were dry.
I was working my way through the bathroom when the audiobook stopped. Kelli’s ringtone started to play, informing me she was at the door. She had probably knocked a couple of times before calling; I didn’t hear because of the story’s volume.
“Hello, hello.” She stepped in, a fresh breeze of warm air flowing in behind her, thinning out the congestion I hadn’t realized existed in the house.
I stepped behind the door, refusing to look into the blinding brightness of outside. From the little I could see, I’m sure it was a lovely day, but I wanted no parts of it. If I could have my way, partly cloudy with a chance of “Fuck this Shit” would do. As the story continued, she made a face. “What are you listening to?”
“A story called Menagerie. Rachel Vincent book. Pretty good.”
She nodded in understanding. Her tanned legs were shown off in form fitting shorts, with a tank top. Her long blonde hair was in a bun at the top of her head. She looked like a SoCal Barbie, military MILF edition. Tiffany & Co. Shades pushed up on her forehead accessorized her look without effort.
Kelli didn’t speak much. She simply joined in and helped me finish cleaning the bathroom, and then the bedrooms. After pulling the laundry to the front, I started separating loads, and she began setting up the washer, filling it with the whites. Most people thought it weird or odd to touch another’s laundry, but Kelli and I had done it on many occasions. It was just not a big deal to us.
The living room needed a vacuum. Kelli turned off the AC, and turned on the fan. She explained as she opened the windows. “You need to breathe; it’s stuffy in here. Let the air circulate. You’ve been marinating in this congested environment for days.”
“Is it really that bad?”
“You’ve been wearing the same clothes for four days. Have you even showered?”
I lifted my arm and wrinkled at the funk punching my nose. “Point taken.”
“Get in the shower.”
“But I have to cook. Don’t you see the meat on the counter?”
She waved me off. “I’ll handle it. I’ll even get your clothes.” Pushing me into the bathroom, she repeated, “Get in the shower.”
***
I emerged no earlier than twenty minutes later from the bathroom. Kelli laid out a sundress and shoes she wanted me to wear, but I revolted and put on a pair of shorts and a tank top also. My washed hair had revived some of its waves from the volumizing conditioner I used, so I added mousse. Despite the treatment, it still lacked the proper lustre I was used to.
I looked into my eyes, and all I could see were slate colored pools of misery, surrounded by bruise colored bags under my eyes. Marriage had definitely taken its toll on me.
“Okay, little change of plans in the wardrobe, but I like it,” Kelli said. She was perched against the wall, holding my purse. “You ready?”