Oakley
Six
Only when I hear the faint sound of Levi’s receding footsteps do I push my back off the motel room door and move further into the room.
It really isn’t that bad. I wasn’t lying when I told him I’ve stayed in worse places before. I don’t know what prompted me to give away something like that to him, but I blame it on the exhaustion and push it from my mind. I doubt he even picked up on the comment.
Lifting my bag from where I dropped it by the door, I set it on the edge of the bed and pull out my travel-size toiletries and pajamas.
I left my full-size products at the apartment when I left, forgetting them in my haste to get out and away before Travis came home from work.
A shame too. Those products are expensive, and now with only a meager savings, they’re a luxury I can no longer afford.
I make my way into the tiny bathroom and set the items on the edge of the counter before I lean into the shower and turn the dial on the hot water.
The showerhead sputters to life, and my stomach sinks for a split second thinking that maybe the shower isn’t working, but after a moment of waiting, a steady stream of hot water cascades down, pounding a comforting rhythm on the bottom of the tub.
I strip out of my ruined shirt and leave it in a pile on the tile with my shorts, socks, and underwear. I catch a glimpse of my reflection in the mirror and groan.
It’s no wonder Levi kept looking at me like I’m a lost puppy.
I am a wreck. My eyes are a dull, lifeless gray color, heavy with exhaustion, and my blonde hair hangs in messy knots down to the middle of my back.
My skin is pale and lacks its usual glow.
Why hadn’t I thought to grab a small bottle of moisturizer when I grabbed the other toiletries in the last gas station I stopped at back in Pennsylvania?
Sighing and turning away from the woman in the mirror, I test the water before stepping into the shower, grateful to find it hot.
I half expected to be taking a cold shower tonight, but the hot water is a more-than-welcome surprise.
The pressure is decent, too. Thank God for small mercies.
I step fully under the spray of water and groan as I let it cascade over my hair and down my shoulders and back, silently willing it to wash away the absolute shit day today has been.
It wasn’t all bad.
That little voice in the back of my mind fights my crappy attitude tooth and nail, refusing to let me forget about the man that simultaneously ruined and saved my day today.
In all honesty, I can’t blame Levi for my lack of focus when he was giving me directions.
It’s not like it’s his fault that the only thing I could focus on as he spoke were those bright green eyes, so full of life and laughter.
The way he looked at me, as if I was a puzzle he couldn’t sort, should have me running for the hills.
Instead, it made me want to lean in closer and hand him each and every piece he would need to figure me out.
I let out a satisfied groan as the jet of hot water hits a particularly sore muscle in my upper back.
I stand there for countless minutes, letting the steaming water ease the tension in my body.
When the hot water finally begins to run cold, I quickly wash my hair and body before shutting it off and wrapping a bleached towel around myself.
To my relief, and despite my initial impressions of the motel and the room itself, the bathroom is clean.
I smile as I remember going on vacations with my parents when I was little and the way Mom would immediately go into the bathroom to check the tub for mildew stains.
She said you could always tell how clean a hotel room was by the cleanliness of its bathroom.
To this day, I always make it a point to check out the bathroom first thing, just in case. Not like I would have any other choice but to accept what I’ve been given under the circumstances, though.
I dress quickly and rummage through my bag for my hairbrush before remembering it was one of the items I left back at the apartment.
I sigh and instead comb through my hair with my fingers, working out the bigger knots as best I can.
It’ll have to do. After quickly brushing my teeth, I make my way to the bed with the hopes of sleeping for the next twelve hours. A girl could only be so lucky.
I yank back the dingy duvet cover. That was another thing Mom ingrained in my mind. The duvet never gets washed. I gaze down at the rumpled white bedsheets beneath the duvet. When was the last time those were washed?
Actually, no. I don’t even want to know. I’m much too sleep deprived to care. Thankfully, I remembered to grab my favorite throw blanket from my car, and I settle beneath it after plugging my phone in to charge.
Beyond the deafening silence that falls over the room is the sound of the music roaring from the bar next door.
Honestly, if I wasn’t too tired to drag myself out of bed, a drink might sound really good right now.
Maybe not so much the idea of socializing with whatever locals are currently occupying the bar, but a strong drink? Now that’s something I can get behind.
I exhale sharply, willing my muscles to relax as I stare up at the ceiling and try to catalog exactly what I need to deal with first. There’s too much to unpack in this moment, no pun intended, but I have to start somewhere.
I walk myself through the mental to-do list, checking off little boxes for what can wait and what has to be dealt with sooner rather than later.
Obviously, the first order of business is getting in contact with the manager of the apartment complex and praying like hell that the apartment is still available.
If I’m going to make this town my home for the time being, living out of this singular motel room wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world, but it is far from ideal.
There’s something about this place that makes me feel rather transient, like I haven’t truly stopped running and have no place to call my own.
My living situation takes priority over anything else right now.
Reaching over, I grab my phone off the nightstand and squint as the bright glow illuminates the screen.
I have over twenty missed calls, text messages, and voicemails combined.
Scrolling through the missed calls list, I find the number I saved under “Mountainside Apartments.” I click on the voicemail and put the phone on speaker.
A cheerful female voice with a slight twang greets me.
“Hi Oakley, this is Tonia Evans, building manager for Mountainside Apartments. We had an appointment earlier this afternoon to meet regarding touring our available apartment. I know you’re new to town and hope you didn’t get too lost in these mountains of ours, but give me a call back when you can, and we can try to work something out.
I do have availability tomorrow morning, so we can chat then. Talk to you soon, love. Bye!”
Hope flares in my chest that maybe this isn’t a complete bust after all.
I clutch my phone to my chest and smile, feeling like something is finally going my way despite the day’s setbacks.
I don’t realize I’ve pressed play on the next voicemail until the angry voice blares through the darkness around me, causing my heart to jump into my throat.
“You stupid fucking bitch! After everything I’ve given you?! Just wait till I get my fucking hands on—”
Eyes stinging, I fumble with the phone until the recording cuts off and near silence blankets me once more, punctuated only by the rapid thrashing of my heart against my ribcage. Nausea roils in my stomach, and I throw myself out of bed and lunge for the bathroom.
My knees slam painfully against the tile, but the dull ache is quickly forgotten as I lean over the toilet and empty the minimal contents of my stomach into the bowl.
When my heaving finally subsides, I sit back, leaning against the tub and stretching my bare legs out in front of me.
The tile is cool against my clammy skin, and I focus on taking deep and even breaths, trying to calm my racing heart.
You are okay. You are safe. He can’t find you here.
The words I’ve been repeating like my own personal mantra ever since pulling away from that apartment echo in my mind as I recite them in a hushed whisper until my heart calms and my stomach settles.
You are okay. You are safe. He can’t find you here.
Each hurried phrase rolls off my tongue until I’m speaking them aloud in a rush of words into the dark, declaring them to the emptiness of the motel room.
When it no longer feels like the weight of those vicious words are threatening to crush me, I stand on trembling legs and rinse out my mouth with the small bottle of mouthwash before returning to the lumpy mattress.
I don’t even care that the bed is uncomfortable or that there’s a spring digging directly into my side as I curl into a ball beneath the blanket.
The only thing that matters is that I am okay.
I am safe.
He can’t find me here.
I’ll meet with Tonia tomorrow morning, and by the afternoon, I’ll be settled into my new apartment.
I’m going to make a life for myself here one way or another.
It doesn’t matter that it feels like I’m starting over for the hundredth time in my life.
I owe it to myself to try again. To not let what happened break me.
After months of weathering the storm of my ex’s cycle of mental, emotional, and physical warfare, it happened.
I finally cracked. I couldn’t take it anymore.
Couldn’t face my friends and family knowing I was allowing him to do to me over and over again what they’d never stand for themselves.
If the situation was reversed, I would be the first one telling them to get the fuck out.
I’m not sure when I accepted what was happening or why I accepted it in the first place.
Like anything, it started as such insignificant blips in time.
A comment here or there, so subtle and dripping in sugary sweetness, that I hadn’t even realized was poison until it had already slipped down my throat.
Months came and went, and with them so did the outgoing and carefree woman I used to be. Gone was the girl who could make a friend out of a stranger anywhere she went, instead replaced by someone so far withdrawn into herself that she viewed the world through a constant lens of wariness and fear.
I don’t even fucking recognize myself anymore. It’s nauseating to see the person I allowed him to make me into over the course of those few months. A single tear slides down my cheek and soaks into the pillow.
I may not know who I am anymore, but I know who I want to be. I was her once upon a time and I plan to fight like hell to get back to her. Starting tomorrow.
Maybe I’ll paint the entire apartment bright yellows and pinks to drown out the incessant gray clouds that seemed to follow me around everywhere I go.
Weighed down by exhaustion, it doesn’t take long before I’m asleep with visions of sunny days dancing through my mind.