Chapter 32: Stalling
Upon landing on my bed with Ezra still clutching me, I unravel from his arms and race to my bathroom with swelling bile at my throat. I release it into the toilet with an impolite force.
Oh, my head is pounding!
Another lurch of my body forces me to grip the toilet seat. The smell is repugnant to my nostrils, swimming to the back of my very much aching head. The feeling of my body phasing in and out of its natural homeostasis state is unforgiving. Simply unforgiving.
“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is what it feels like to teleport.” Ezra’s voice sounds from the doorway of the bathroom.
I could wring his strong, veiny, perfectly sculpted brown neck right now. To see him in a state of asphyxiation right now is too ideal even for my imagination. My body feels like age-old diarrhea.
Sigh, I think I’m-
And out goes another meal into the porcelain throne of everyone’s worst nightmare. Deus, I got to lay off of the dairy, this is absolutely ludicrous. I haven’t thrown up this violently since the year I caught the flu. I believe that was back when I was in 6th grade. Definitely not a moment worth reliving. Although, this instance is much worse.
I breathe once more. Given the present fact that I have thrown up everything I have eaten for the past few weeks, I push the small circular button on the top of my toilet to flush. The crackling sound of the water crashing into the filth from the bowl is the only thing keeping me from tossing any more of my cookies.
My limp hands find the towel railing, beckoning my joints to move from the ground.
“Easy.” Ezra’s arm wind loosely around my stomach pulling me up from what has to be my lowest state.
After sanitizing my hands, brushing my teeth free of the after-taste of throw up, I somehow still feel like a monster took a grip of my intestines and turned them all the way out.
“Hey, Ezra?” I call into my room. He’s probably doing what he has shown me that he does best; touching things that don’t belong to him.
His large frame appears in front of the doorway, leaning onto the wall, “What is it?” He supports his posture by grabbing the top of the door frame. With that pose, he should have just taken up modeling. He wouldn’t be so bad. Not bad at all actually.
“Wha-ya-doin’?” I ask with a hair tie in between my teeth.
He looks behind himself and then back to me, “I’m waiting for you, what the hell are you doing?”
I look back into the mirror, stretching a handful of my horse hair in one hand, then pulling the rubber band from my mouth with the other. The fact that there’s even hair ties durable enough to support this much hair simply blows my mind, “Stalling.” I answer.
Ezra appears behind me, looking intently at my ponytail, “You know,” he begins, taking my hair out of the binding, my eyebrows instantly furrow at his reflection, “You’re making things worse by dragging this out, their right under you, Saphyre, and still to this day you lock yourself in your own shell of self-remorse,” He pulls the strands of my hair into a tight fist, lifting my eyes and the skin of my face along with it, “Always stalling, waiting and watching the world and life pass you by, instead of living it and experiencing what it’s like to feel true joy.”
The ponytail is perfect.
The best it’s ever been, actually. I feel on the smooth sides of the strands, massaging his words into my head. Ezra’s eyes aren’t on his reflection, but on me. It’s a little unsettling, given the fact that I have never had a man in my bathroom before. It seems these days I have been placing myself in a lot of unique circumstances involving my personal life. I should invest in a diary of some sorts.
“It never felt right to be around people too long,” I admit, dragging my hair over my left shoulder, “After Aster left, I lost that social energy that I used to have.” “I don’t know what it was about him that made it easier to talk to people when we were together.”
Ezra puts a hand on my shoulder, “Asteroth has always been a protector, a shield if you will, quite naturally, it would make anyone feel secure to be in his presence.”
I glance down at the mint and white polka dot analog clock on my vanity table.
It’s getting late and I don’t feel comfortable speaking on Aster anymore, considering the circumstances. I leave Ezra to the mirror and walk purposefully to my drawer. I need a change of clothes. My cleavage will not be hanging out any longer tonight. I rub my dry eyes at the evidence of tears that I saw in the mirror earlier. What’s important right now, is that I get myself together mentally and physically.
I believe facing my family is going to be the least of my worries.
A black long sleeve T-Shirt and yoga pants should do the trick. I almost lift my shirt above my head, before my subconscious kicks in at full force.
There’s a man in my bathroom, only a few feet away.
I clutch my clothes in my arms and enter the bathroom, “Ezra, can you do me a favor?”
He looks up from buttoning his black jacket. His eyes then dart to the clothes in my grip, “You need me to leave, don’t you?”
“Please.” I say stepping aside as he takes his time to make his way to the door. As soon as he steps across the threshold I slam the door shut.