She laid everything out perfectly on the bed. The bedspread was sunshine yellow with amber flecks of flower pedals disbursed erratically in medium sized stitched squares. Each item was laid out in order of need for use. There was the can of Mountain Dew farthest away, the Benadryl’s all out of their package shining brightly of pink against the yellow bedspread, plastic bag, the duct tape, the remote control and then the pillows she brought from home.
She had bathed in the morning so this afternoon she just washed up in the sink. In the mirror were tired eyes red and swollen from crying. Her hands began to shake violently preventing her from holding on to her hairbrush. She sat down on the toilet waiting for the shaking to stop. The shaking came from the deepest hurt part inside her and manifested itself into an outward display of trembling that welled up in her uncontrollably. She had learned to succumb to its pain, to just sit and wait for it to leave as quickly as it came, to try and fight it made the shaking worse. She had learned to just sit and wait for it to pass and that’s what she did.
The bathroom was tiled from ceiling to floor with little squares of white and turquoise. The grout was yellowed, missing in spots and black in others. As she sat she could smell urine. That chemical urine smell where an accident had been cleaned with ammonia instead of the right cleanser. How did people not know that urine is ammonia expelled from the body and cleaning ammonia with ammonia makes the smell all the stronger?
She clasped her hands so tightly her ring was pushing into her finger and causing her physical pain. She could handle the physical pain sometimes she invited it to give her relief from the emotional pain of people. She unclasped her hands and held them out straight. They were still shaking. She decided to leave everything and go for a walk. If she sat in the bathroom long enough she was afraid she would change her mind.
She grabbed her coat leaving her hat behind. She took her purse in case she wanted to buy something to drink while she tried to walk off the shaking. Everything outside was moving so fast and it was loud. My God it hurt her ears, but she walked anyway she had to she had to ready herself. Out of the hotel door she stopped looked east and then west and decided to go east. From her New England days she still believed east meant water. As she walked people passed her by not noticing she was even in their path until they bumped into her. Some said “sorry,” others just yelled “Hey, watch where you’re going.” It didn’t matter anymore that she didn’t really exist to anyone including herself. She had come to a place of peace when she created her plan.
She walked fast enough for her hurt to pound out of her chest. So many opportunities with men and women alike, yet she was unable to create anything that lasted with anyone. She always ended up alone questioning what was wrong with her always thinking the man or woman was more than she would ever be.
It took her 20 minutes to walk the city block by then the shaking had stopped. In front of the hotel she stood for a minute to have a cigarette. The air was crisp she could see her breath. She was a chain smoker always looking for the next drag to come and go so she could get to the one she really craved. She could feel the heat on her lower lip as her deep inhaling brought her in a rapid pace to those last three drags near the filter. She took the cigarette off her lips and looked at it. She love the way the tobacco burned orange and red hidden within the ashes of the paper. She rolled the cigarette between her fingers romancing her last three drags.
The first one was still light in flavor. It was filled with the smoke of burning tobacco. She inhaled deep, but not as deep as she could. The second drag was a little less tasteful and a bit more burning, but it still wasn’t strong enough for her. She held on to the smoke of the second drag. She let it swirl in her mouth through her sinuses and exhaled it out her nose. She could feel the menthol cooling the inside of her face. Her eyes watered just a bit. Timing was everything so she couldn’t linger too long enjoying the cool of the menthol. She watched the fire as it grabbed hold of the filter as the last parts of paper disappeared on the wind as a gust came by pushing her back into the exterior wall of the hotel. As she placed the burning filter to her lips she felt the cold of the bricks through her coat from the hotel walls.
She didn’t move she let the cold seep into her while she placed the hot filter on her lips. This is what she was waiting for. That burn as the filter touched her lips and she inhaled everything that wasn’t tobacco into her lungs. The smoke she inhaled burned like whiskey in her throat. She fought off the urge to cough her body’s rejection was simply unacceptable to her. She needed to feel the burn on her lips, the strangling of the smoke in her throat and lungs and added to the pleasure was the coldness from the exterior walls of the hotel.
She held the smoke inside her for as long as she could hold her breath. The exhale was slow and she visualized the whiteness of the smoke swirling around inside her. She blew a straight hard line of white menthol smoke from her mouth with her lips puckered up to kiss someone. She flicked the rest of the filter into the street and watched a cab push it into the ground. She stood still for a moment identifying with the used up filter flicked into traffic to fend for itself unsuccessfully.
Back in her room nothing had moved everything was the way she left it. She went into the bathroom to pee and then washed her hands. Her hair was windblown, her cheeks bright red and her eyes were filled with water, bright in color and glassy. She touched a tissue to the corner of each eye and like a sponge the water sucked into the tissue and the glassiness of her eyes went back to painfully dull. She looked away patting down places where her hair stuck up as she turned away from the mirror.
She adjusted her shirt, ran her hands over her pants in the back and walked toward the instruments lying on the yellow bedspread. She slipped her shoes off and leaned over to take the Mountain Dew. Popping the top she took a small sip. It was room temperature just as she wanted it to be. Reaching for the Benadryl she had to lean over and put the soda bottle on the bedside table. There were so many Benadryl’s she had to use two hands. One hand held more than the other so she shoved the small amount in her mouth first and grabbed the bottle of Mountain Dew to wash down the pills. She was successful.
Before she took the second handful she sat down on the edge of the bed. She was waiting to feel a little groggy before taking them. She could hear the ticking of the clock. It was the only sound in the room. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock. Tick Tock.
She raised her hand holding the Benadryl’s to her mouth and she used her lips to gather each one leading them to her tongue where they stuck and she brought them into the cavity of her mouth. She couldn’t fit them all so she took a swig of soda and went back to mouthing the palm of her hand, sticking her tongue out so the pills would stick and then bringing them into her mouth for swallowing. Some of the pills became stuck between her lips and teeth others were dutiful and fell into her mouth. The Mountain Dew had been a special drink between her and her father. She had chosen it for just that reason.
She tilted her head back to drink what was left of the soda and set the bottle on the night stand. She was getting sleepy and knew she had to move forward. She took the duct tape and thought it should have been first not the plastic bag, but it was too late to change that now. She used her finger nail to lift up the end of the duct tape and pulled it out about an inch. She stuck the inch of tape onto the edge of the night stand and reached for the plastic bag.
As her fingers grabbed the bag she realized that she would have to hurry. She opened the bag, pulled it over her head and smoothed it around and onto her shoulders front and back. She lifted the duct tape off the night stand and held it in front of her horizontally. She pulled with one hand and held the roll with the other. When she had about a foot of tape she placed it flat against her throat. When she felt the tape pushing the plastic bag against her throat she put her one hand behind her head and grabbed the roll of tape. The plastic was cool on her skin and the tape felt like a hand pushing into her neck trying to pop her head off like children do to dandelions. She moved the tape from front to back, front to back, front to back until she ran out of tape.
Inside the plastic bag it was raining. The moisture from her breathing was creating clouds and it was raining on her cheeks. She lay back on the bed resting her head on the hotel pillow not on the ones she brought with her. She could feel the rain on her lips, her eyelids, her chin. She could feel the rain hitting her face and running downhill into her ears. She tried to cry, but when she opened her lips to take in air there was none. The last thing she saw was black, the last touch on her skin was wet, and the last thought was oh my God.
