Running my fingers up and down my spikey unshaved legs made me question the past twenty-four hours. I haven’t seen hair on these legs in fifty-two years. I found myself staring at the flickering dull lamp in the musty motel room he told me to go to. My eyes welled.
Was this worth it? My God, I was over sixty. I reached for my inhaler on the bedside table and took a puff. Breathing out slowly, I watched as the vaporized medicine left my lungs. My mind began to wonder. Who took Justin? That bright red truck still burned the core of my retinas. I reached for the remote to distract myself. Slowly stroking the rubber buttons, I could feel a tears forming in the corner of my left eye and I refused to acknowledge them. I needed to go home. Justin told me fate had brought us together, but I’m beginning to think that was just the wind and booze talking.
Clicking the through the channels, I stumbled upon a cooking competition. I pushed back into the bedpost and straighten my posture. I liked cooking, actually, I loved cooking. Ramming the volume button up three times, I soaked in the voices.
“You’ll want to make sure that you don’t over beat your mixture, too many bubbles could be a disaster.”
My fingers wrapped around the remote harder. Bubbles? Bubbles in flour. Bubbles in cooking. Bubbles. Bubbles are nice in hot water. My eyes moved to the bathroom door. The bathtub in this motel is sure to be rather decrepit, but I was willing to dabble.
I moved slow. Slow felt good, it felt controlled. Peeking my head around the bathroom door, I spotted a sparkling white acrylic bathtub. I don’t know if it was the moment, my disarray or just the purity of something familiar, but it was perfect. Twisting the handle to hot, I moved to quickly plug the tub up. My mind floated away as the waves gushed from side to side. My peripheral caught a soap dispenser on the wall, perfect.
Walking back into the main room, I immediately spotted the lamp. Reaching for it, I noticed it was bolted into the dresser, but at this rate, I could care less. Focusing hard, I forcefully picked up my right leg and slammed it off, pausing. Seeing it lie there lifeless on the floor made me giddy. With no remorse, I picked it up and brought it into the bathroom. The base was wide and heavy plaster. Lifting my arms high, I smashed it hard against the soap dispenser, shattering it and causing the dispenser to break open. A smirk formed. There it was. A clear, full, soap bag. I ripped it off the wall, accidentally squirting some on the floor peaking my adrenaline. My triceps tweaked as I gripped and squeezed the whole bag into the tub. Ah, and there they were, bubbles. Sufficient, complete, glistening, soapy, clear, water bubbles.