“The truth is rarely pure and never simple.” -Oscar Wilde.
It takes me a moment to register the look on her face but it is familiar, I know it, I’ve seen it before. Heartbreak. I fiddle with the warmer a bit longer until I can finally free another towel and I wrap it around me by the time she’s made her way through the massive bedroom and is at the threshold of the bathroom opening. She opens her mouth to talk but suddenly realizes what she’s seeing and her brow dips, her eyes narrow, her mouth opens and closes aimlessly.
“What the fuck?” she hisses, and I see a look on her face now that I’ve never seen. And it scares me. I feel her pace backwards away from me and I reach out for her, unsure of what to say or do, what does she know? I don’t know.
“Kyra,” I say, my voice unusually calm for the moment.
“Why are you in here?” her eyes dart around, searching madly around the bathroom, then they turn to the bedroom. She runs to the bed, lifts the comforter, shakes out pillows. Madly she turns back to me, bumping into me hard as she pushes past and goes back into the bathroom. She opens Owen’s clothes hamper-something I didn’t even know existed until now- and rummages through it. She turns to me, her eyes narrow, her lips tight with anger.
“Where are they?” she barks, “where?!”
Her intensity increases as she asks me again, and again. Her face is full of panic and pain, desperation. I shake my head, tears rolling down my face. I’ve upset the one-or, rather, one of the two-people that I love. But I don’t know what she’s talking about.
“Kyra,” I say through choked tears, “I don’t know what you’re asking. Where’s what?”
I brush away tears with the back of my hand. My heart is in my throat.
Then I can hear, faintly, Owen climbing the stairs, two at a time, racing up. “Your clothes.”
Fuck. I step towards her and she steps back.
Her voice slows and it scares me more.
“If you didn’t fuck my Dad, then where are your clothes? You wouldn’t come in here fucking naked and use his shower while he’s home so please, Elizabeth, please, tell me, show me, where are your clothes?”
We stand in silence for what feels like an eternity but then Owen appears behind Kyra and in this moment, I can see their likeness. I can see her jaw looks like his, strong and willful. Her eyes are wide and dark, like his, full of passion. A heady feeling wraps itself around me and I find my eyes cannot stay open, my feet cannot hold me, or maybe it’s my legs? Then a rush of air before a bang, what’s that noise? Did anyone hear that thud? Before the darkness takes me, my inner voice is shouting that’s you! You’ve hit the floor! You’re blacking out…
MY EYES JERK open and my body flies up, where am I? what’s going on? I’m panting, sweat rolling down my naked spine.
“Hush, sweet girl,” Marie’s voice soothes me back down into the pillows where I’m propped up, in Owen’s bed. In my bed.
“Marie,” I sob, burying my face in my hands. “I’ve ruined everything with Kyra. Look at what she’s given me? She’s given me the only real relationship I’d ever had. She’s been so understanding and, and generous, letting me stay here. I’m awful. I’ve betrayed her trust.”
Marie holds an ice pack to my head and I realize now, my head is killing me. I reach up and run my fingers over the spot where my head hit the floor and it’s a lump, large and painful. I grit my teeth and look at Marie.
“Is it bad?” I’m afraid to turn and face the mirror adjacent to us.
“Which part?” she smiles, shedding some humor on an otherwise very stressful situation. Then I have another realization. I’m naked and Marie has been taking care of me while I’m naked. I bury my face in my hands with humiliation. And then yet another agonizing realization sweeps over me.
Kyra and Owen are not in the room, which means they are somewhere having a very important talk together. I want to get up and find them, to make sure Kyra doesn’t hate me, to make sure Owen is okay, but the pain in my head radiates through my eyes and neck and I lean back, letting the plush pillows take the weight of my stress momentarily.
“My girl, you will be okay. This,” she looks up at my bump and gently pressed a cloth ice-pack to it, “this will be okay in a couple of days. Ice, ibuprofen, you will be okay.”
I nod, tears still flowing freely and I am unable to control them. So, I sit there, naked, a purple monster growing out of my head, crying like a baby while this wonderful woman soothes me.
“Thank you, Marie,” I say, sheepishly, embarrassed that I have singlehandedly brought so much strife to everyone.
“I wish I would’ve had a mother like you. I bet you’re a phenomenal mother.”
I smile at her, meaning every single word. Marie is a great cook, skillful housekeeper, friendly, gentle, easy to talk to-she’s quite literally everything I’d wanted my own mother to be.
“I wish you had a better mother, too, my sweet girl,” and she smooths my hair back.
It is now that I realize she has combed my hair and somehow dried it and tied in in a loose ponytail for me. She has really taken wonderful care of me. I process her comment. She knows I’ve had a shit mother, hmmm. Perhaps she figured it out about the same time she realized that I am poor and have gone hungry. I can’t think of any of it now. All I need to know is that Marie is kind, and good, and she has not a judgmental bone in her body.
“Where are they?” I whisper, as if I’m afraid I’ll be overhead.
Shit, my inner voice laughs, there’s nothing that’s a secret now. She’s right again.
“We will let them talk. They need to talk. They are outside, by the pool. Fresh air is good for these types of things.”
She smiles warmly and puts the ice pack in my hand.
“I’m going to get some clothes for you and we’re going to get you dressed. Then I’m going to help you downstairs and you’re going to eat.” Eat. I haven’t eaten since the fruit last night. My stomach rumbles at the idea of Marie’s breakfasts. I nod and wait for her to leave the room before I pull myself lazily from the thick covers and make my way across the vast space to the bathroom. The scene of the incident. But also, the scene of some very passionate moments last night. I brush my teeth and put on the lilac lotion that rests on the counter. I grab Owen’s bathrobe and drape myself in it, burying my face in the sleeve and sucking in his scent, deep in my lungs. Oh, Owen.
Marie is quick and returns to the room after just a few minutes. She holds me steady as I step into my clothes-she’s chosen my blue sundress and a pair of white panties. After I am dressed, she stalls me, untying my hair and combing it, letting it fall down my back and tucking it behind my ears in the front.
“Beautiful,” she winks at me, and takes my hand, guiding us towards the door.