Bubble Gum Kisses
CHAPTER 44

**Kapittel 44** ***Vanessa***

**I stared at the droplets of water cascading from my face down to the floor and eventually the drain,** heaving a sigh. I raised my hands across my wet, slippery hair, lathering it further with the shampoo I had applied to it earlier.

I have been stuck in the shower enclosure for so long that I didn't know how much time has passed. My lukewarm tears were streaming endlessly, cascading down my face softly along the suds. The scent of lemon and peppermint spread elegantly, quite the opposite of the organic soil my butt slammed into.

I didn't know what I was doing. All I knew was I needed to shower to remove all the stuff that got to me when I slipped and fell in the garden. I needed to scrub every inch of me clean even though I already did it in a recluse bathroom nearby Ms. Caswell's office. Good thing we came across each other while I was on my way out and helped me get a change of clothes without getting other people's attention.

I bit my lower lip and curled my fingers, scratching my nails across my scalp, remembering how those stormy orbs scrutinized me deeply that it drowned me unknowingly. It still stuck in my mind to see how Friso looked at me when Ms. Caswell bid him goodbye after helping him get a change as well. His eyes were directed at me with a gaze so mellow and crestfallen as I was one fine, fragile piece of China that he broke or he valued all long lost.

Although I was angry at him, I felt partially guilty. He was panicking when I had an attack, and I pushed him away. My actions for getting back at him were inexcusable. I was driven by my anger, and I still was. But what would have stopped him from wetting my shoes and making me slip?

I was inconsolable too. My old wound was back open afresh, rubbed with salt. Remembering Dad, and realizing that I had forgotten something that happened in his death broke me. Not to mention those visions, those flashes of what happened that rainy night. In one thing I get to somehow forget about that unfortunate happening, something pulls me back to that nightmarish pit all over again. It was always like this when I get to step on foot out of the cruel, sorrowful cage, the chain on my neck pull me back. As though it was reminding me that I had no place to be happy.

Luckily, I got to hold back my tears when Mom picked me up. But as soon as I got in my room, closed the door, and dropped all my things, I found myself wailing like a baby. I was grieving my father's death all over again. I found myself grieving all over again. I sometimes thought that I hated feeling like this. I hated this, grieving.

My head suddenly felt light, and my gaze was lazily stuck on the drain collecting the raining water that my vision had become blurry. My chest thumped. What was grief exactly?

I once read someone named Herschel made an analogy about grief likened to a large ball inside a box with a pain button in it. The ball started big, constantly pressing that pain button, but as time passes, the ball would get smaller, and could no longer hit the button most of the time. But why did my grief not feel like it?

It had been quite a time since Dad died. But it seemed that my pain didn't minimize even the slightest bit. There were times when I had gotten tired of crying. I got sick of getting my post-breakdown migraines. I grew weary of the panic attacks. The sense of worthlessness when I forgot even the slightest bit about him, especially it was about the accident, his last moments. It was already tediou-God, what am I thinking?! I shouldn't think about this, dad doesn't deserve this! Ah, I feel so worthless. I couldn't protect Dad in the accident, now I couldn't even remember him properly. What kind of daughter was I?

There were times I conceived the thought of moving on one day. But that idea always strikes my chest with irrevocable guilt. He could have been alive if I refused to take his helmet. He would have been alive. I was responsible for his death, I owe him my life. I shouldn't forget the sacrifice he did for me, paying his life as a price. What was more disheartening was that I dared to forget his last words to me.

Going back to the box and ball analogy, maybe my ball was still big and wasn't deflating so it remained pressing the button, or maybe my grief wasn't a ball in a box, but rather, an iron maiden with countless spikes. My grief was trapping me in a dark, claustrophobic space that suffocated me, not to mention the spikes that would tear down my flesh when I made any form of movement.

I rested a palm on the wall, leaning my face forward to evade the water from dripping my head. My eyes stopped releasing the salty tears when it struck me. Maybe I wasn't tired of grief. Maybe I was tired of the pain caused by this grief. But I was grief's willing prisoner, willing to suffer for my dad's lasting sake. Pain was a main accessory to grief, or is it?

God, all this thinking was making my head so light that I might pass out.

Steam built up in the glass chamber. The water was comfortably warm, however, I was feeling cold. At the same time, I felt like sweating. I stared back down at the drain. All the suds had gone, and the water looked vibrant and iridescent in the presence of the suds, but now that all of the bubbles had gone down the drain, everything suddenly became monochromatic. I turned the water off, and I noticed my fingers had gotten way too wrinkly. Looks like I've been here for too much for a long time.

I should get some Tylenol because for sure, I'm getting a headache later. My head splits whenever I break down. I ran a hand on my face, wiping off the wetness. Deciding to get out of the shower, I sniffed. Maybe I should take something to get rid of this runny nose too.

**I was in the middle of changing my clothes when my phone suddenly rang.** I hastily wore my shorts, thinking that it was my friends from the other part of the east coast asking for FaceTime again. I ran to the nightstand to reach for the ringing device and realized I wasn't wrong.

"Missed me too much?" I greeted them after pressing the answer button.

"With that hair? Never." It was Nikki who answered, and I heard chuckles pealing at her response.

I pouted. "C'mon, guys. I just got out of the shower." Looking around, I started my search for my comb.

"At a time like this?" she asked, resting her device on what seemed to be a coffee table. Nikki was stepping back to sit on the couch where Seandhe and Harley lounged.

"Hey, you two," I waved at her two brothers, who enthusiastically replied with large smiles and energetic waves. They always looked excited when we call. "Long story." I tried to avoid talking about Friso, walking to the vanity mirror. My comb must be there.

"Then make it short du- wait, were crying?!"

I almost freaked out when she exclaimed. Thank God, I got to hold my facial muscles and kept my usual facial expression. "No, why?" I feigned ignorance. Damn, I thought it wasn't obvious behind the camera. I didn't want to talk about Friso or anything about today right now, especially after all those shower thoughts. I needed some peace of mind.

"You're lying," Seandhe retorted.

"You can tell?"

"So you were definitely lying." Holy... I almost cussed out loud when I realized what just happened. I was taken aback that instead of lying again, I asked him instead without thinking. Sometimes, I couldn't comprehend how stupid I could be when encountering situations in which critical thinking and things like lying were crucial.

"By the way, where's Katherine and Jay?" Beads of sweat started to form on my wet scalp and forehead. I didn't know if this was because my room was unexpectedly hot or if I was just afraid of their confrontation. "Don't change the subject. Talk." Nikki insisted

I sighed, sitting on the vanity's chair, the white flag waving. "I can never hide any of my troubles from you guys. Can't I?" I shook my head lightly with a small smile. I should just tell them small details so it wouldn't be much pain to the chest. "We're friends. It's part of our connection."

"Right..." I mumbled in a voice so small that it was close to being inaudible. I parted my lips, thinking about what I should tell them, but I couldn't replace my throat releasing a voice. Gosh, was I hesitating? "But I don't feel like talking about it right now."

**

Thank you for reading Bubble Gum Kisses! To keep up with my works, future works, and endless frustrations on Twitter: https://twitter.org/RiosMorpheus**