There’s a world of light dawning outside my window.
White beach. Turquoise blue sky. Spindrift from gentle waves.
It’s all out there.
I’m in here, and the curtain is only half drawn back. I can feel the burning of hot tea water through the paper cup. I’ve been holding on to it for the last 10 minutes.
I have yet to put tea in the water.
I look down over myself and wonder if the whiteness of my legs and arms is ready to meet the source of all that light out there. Maybe if I take a bath in sun lotion before I go out … ?
Did you know that bikinis are actually named after a chain of islands where they tested nuclear bombs?
I guess it’s the only interesting thing about this two-piece. All black with a bit of white at the sides. Nothing special, but what I pulled from the drawer, along with some other random clothes, before I left our apartment for the last time back in Ohio.
Lin always said that it didn’t matter what clothes I wore, when I kept yapping about never having enough money to buy … stuff.
Even though she always had the money, eventually I came to accept what she said. Because she always dressed like …
Ha. There’s something to smile about. Even if it bloody hurts. Lin and all her stupid jackets and skirts – either total black or never ever in colors that matched.
Like her sense for dressing was inversely proportional to her sense for putting the right words on the page and writing something that would make Hemingway cry.
Or blow his head off.
That’s how Lin would put it. She always said so many nice things about how I looked or what I did that I came to believe her. But I wished she had reserved just one or two of those words for herself, instead of those shotgun metaphors.
In the end she didn’t use a shotgun.
The result was the same …
My hand is shaking as I put the hot water to my lips and remember that I have to actually put tea in it, but then I just pour it out in the sink of the kitchenette.