Wednesday, February 4, 2015

The Shower Scene

I put my music on before I hop in the shower. I hit the first playlist that pops up on Spotify, because this is a quick rinse before I run errands - I'll take another shower later before I go out. Weezer's "Susanne" starts blaring as I step into the already steaming shower. 

While lathering my body wash, I hear Ingrid Michaelson's cover of Elvis Presley's "Can't Help Falling In Love." Great. This played the last time I saw him + coincidentally, we were just getting out of the shower. He teased me, making a remark about this specific song being on the playlist. I told him it wasn't the playlist I made for him - this was an older one that I had put on shuffle. Still smirking at me, I told him not to flatter himself, the playlist had been made long before he had reappeared in my life. I rolled my eyes + he kissed me, neither of us having to say a word. It was pointless: we both knew how the other felt. Quite frankly, neither of us were in any rush to say anything aloud - it makes it real once the words escape your throat + then you actually have to deal with it [which, neither of us was mentally prepared for, but moving forward nonetheless]. 

I close my eyes, water cascading over my shoulders + the tears start to flow. I haven't cried in the shower since California boy ripped my heart out the week of my twenty-fifth birthday. 

He's gone. 
He's BEEN gone. 

He came into my life, helped put the finishing pieces into place in my life, then ended up knocking everything out of place, Jenga style. The pieces have been slowly getting back into place, but there have been some shaky points. 

Between sobs, I hear the line, "some things are meant to be," + I start to cry a little harder. Yeah, I know, I sarcastically mutter to myself. I stick my head under the water, almost in an attempt to rinse the memories clean. 

Finally, the song ends + The Used's "I Caught Fire" changes the tone in the steamy, somber bathroom. I sing along to distract myself + step out of the shower. After I wrap myself in a towel, I grab my phone + decide to delete the song from the playlist. Edit. Swipe. Delete? Delete. Done. 

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