Zoe Thanatos(22)
In one quick motion Zoe scooped up every pair of nondescript jeans, the tee shirts in the drawer above, and all other offending apparel that made up her uniform of sadness. She dumped them into garbage bags and set them by the front door with a mental note to donate them somewhere. With the dresser empty, she walked to the closet doors and dramatically opened them with two hands, imagining a flock of moths escaping in formation above her head. The room was filled to the brim with apparel sorted by type and color; an army of footwear meticulously placed along one wall, another wall of shelves lined with colorful accessories. It was an embarrassing display of wasted wealth that made her cringe. Clearly she had gone overboard trying to obtain the shopping high that seemed to elude her.
No, she thought. I’m not going to start the day feeling bad about myself. She was determined to feed the small seedling inside of her with positivity. Her fingers moved along the different fabrics, trying to find one that felt the most comfortable. There was a beautiful but simple silk tank, a pair of nicely tailored twill shorts, and a cardigan that looked like it was spun in wild gold thread. It sparkled and gleamed in her hand as she moved it around in the midmorning light. She decided on a pair of simple sandals from the wall of shoes when her eyes fell on a pair of blue suede wedge platforms that were as outlandish as they were striking. She grabbed them and placed the sandals in the empty space, then laid each item out on the bed before heading back to the bathroom.
After wiping the condensation on the mirror from the shower she took a good look at her face. She barely recognized the girl staring back at her. The perpetual sadness had left a visible imprint on her face and drained her of color. She deliberately lifted the muscles in the corners of her mouth and watched the disingenuous smile lift up into her cheeks, shaking as if they didn’t have the necessary strength. She would need to exercise her seventh cranial nerve more often if she wanted to look like her old self again.
She brushed and dried her hair, misted the scent of gardenia on her shoulders, and applied what little makeup she owned to her face. The grooming made a subtle change and put back some of the color she’d lost. She took her time with each garment as though she was observing a ritual. When she finished she felt taller and more confident. When she looked at her reflection again she still didn’t truly recognize herself, but felt she came a little bit closer to the Zoe of the past. Fake it until you make it, she chanted to herself.
Upon returning to the living room she noticed that it was as empty and neglected as the backyard. She scanned around the modestly decorated home and made mental notes of changes she could make, the life she could bring back into the empty spaces. She could vacate the emptiness and fill it with something that would grow with her over time. If she could remodel herself she could certainly remodel her home.
After a quick stop at a donation center, Zoe drove to the nearest home improvement store, the kind with an enormous lot of construction equipment at one end and a gardening center on the other. Employees in brightly colored smocks were milling about, leading people down aisles filled with tools, light bulbs, paint and lumber. She stared up at the aisle markers, hoping for a sign that would lead her to the right place to start.
An associate with a friendly disposition approached her with a smile. “Are you finding everything you need?” he asked politely.
“I’m not really sure what I need,” she answered. He seemed nonplussed. Maybe people often came in looking lost and feeling out of their league?
“Okay. Any particular project or part of your home that needs fixing or that you’re looking to do some work on?”
She pictured her backyard, the state of disarray it had devolved into, and figured that was as good a place as any to start. She liked the idea of dining outside like at the restaurant in Ventura, eating meatloaf sandwiches beneath the sunset. She wanted to recreate that, along with the twinkling lights of Paris and Sydney.
“What can you show me in outdoor dining?”
It was at least two hours before she saw the parking lot again. As luck would have it, Richard, the associate who offered her help, was a design student and had some very inspired ideas for transforming Zoe’s backyard into a beautiful outdoor living space. With his considerable guidance she bought furniture and cookware to create an outdoor dining area, sumptuous lounge chairs for beside the pool, lights that would sparkle against the setting Santa Barbara sky, and enough plants and flowers to start her own botanical garden. Every idea inspired her and she left with purpose, feeling even better than she had that morning.
Her stomach growled loudly as she climbed back into her car. She hadn’t eaten since the night before and the macarons did little to provide adequate nutrition. She set the car in motion and found herself on Carrillo Street, heading not towards a restaurant, but to the Canary Hotel.