Text to Lauren from Samantha:
“Oh sorry to b out of touch, Busier than I intended. Not sure I can make it tonight, maybe be there later in the evening, let you know in a few hours, ok?” Sam
It is not ok. We made these plans weeks ago, confirmed days ago, and now this bullshit.
I am not ok…I am angry and hurt and sick of your canceled plans. Busier than intended? Meaning that plans with me are expendable.
I don’t want to take deep breaths, or a bath, or walk in the woods, or savor the sunset, or focus on gratitude, or exercise, or listen to music, or write 3 things that bring me joy. Mostly I don’t want to text back. Screw you Samantha.
What I want is deep in the back corner of the freezer. Reaching in, I locate the pizza box where I stash my luscious lemon squares from the home.stead bakery. I hide them in the freezer. The lemon squares melts slowly in my mouth, releasing a tart flavor, lemony sweet and cold. I lick the crumbs from the bottom of the white paper bag.
When I was 6, I ate an ant that was crawling in an old Dunkin Donuts bag.
The bag was crumpled up on the floor of our black Ford Falcon. I noticed a few ants crawling near it, but I wanted those sweet crumbs, so I took the risk.
With the first chew, I felt something crunchy and hard. Silently, I spit out into my hand. A big, black ant. Body crushed and nasty little legs sticking out. Ugh.
I kept my mouth wide open all afternoon to air it out. I didn’t tell anyone. Afraid I would die in my sleep, I questioned my Magic 8 Ball. The response was ‘Reply hazy, try again later”.
Now dizzy from the load of sugar in the lemon squares, my mind is hazy with rejection and my own needs. None of this is about Samantha, it’s all about me. Minor new wounds can re-open major old wounds.
Laying on the blue couch, I press my hands into my lower belly and curl my legs up into a ball.
Begin again, I tell myself, breathe.