The Phoenix

Brooding clouds sprinkled the earth in a blanket of sleet, the cold seeping through every crevice in the small cabin, layers of quilts doing nothing to defend me from the ice that dug into my core. Gone, he was gone. The silence within my measly home seemed to stretch miles, battered walls threatening to cave in as my steps thundered across the creaky floor. Suffocating, the silence descended. Until nothing remained but my booming thoughts.

Thoughts of what I could have done better, what I should have said to rectify the situation. So many things left unspoken, the ringing of the door slamming behind him still echoing in my eardrums.

Frizzy hair tickled my cheeks, and I brushed my dark curls back with fervor, desperate for a moment of peace as treacherous tears snuck out of my eyes. A sunken-in chair where he’d sat just moments ago, footprints slowly swallowed by piled on snow. Traces of him that would soon disappear, my solitude inevitable. The echo of promises I should have made lost within the sharp breeze.

Photos lined the mantle above my dwindling fire, memories frozen in time, smiles that no longer felt real. An outing at the park, a dark blue sky speckled with clouds, our hair tossed around by the wind. Strong arms were around me, my head against a broad shoulder, and for the first time I noticed how tightly his fingers gripped my skin, how my shoulders seemed tense at the contact. On the surface we were happy, a ‘perfect’ couple as we’d been told many times. But what lay hidden in the memory was something I seemed to forget, what I always seemed to forgive. On the surface the people in that photo were happy. But had they ever truly been?

A sob racked me, a desperation to do something besides wallow as frostbite dug deeper now, every inch of me numb. The floor groaned as I slid over to the small kitchenette, forcing deep breaths as I filled the kettle with water, desperate to stay afloat the waves of anxiety as I turned on the stove.

A sharp buzz jolted me from spiraling thoughts, a dim light illuminating the now-dark room I huddled in. A text, a beacon of light in the midst of the storm. With trembling fingers, I unlocked my phone, not sure what I expected, but some distant hope still waited for the words “I’m sorry.” Those words never came, though, and days like this usually ended in me apologizing. Sorry for being too needy, for expecting too much, for overthinking. That seemed to be easier.

Just heard from Blake, everything okay?

Another buzz as I let out a shaky sigh.

Don’t worry too much, I’m sure he’ll get over it. You guys are meant for each other!

The blunt scoff escaped before I could think too much of it. Words from a friend meant to be reassuring, but I could only gawk at them. Such fickle assurances, yet I could truly blame nobody but myself. Months spent sculpting my relationship into something distorted, until I no longer recognized the couple that flourished from beyond these walls. But behind closed doors, masks were stripped, a public eye no longer holding together the fragile politeness of our exchanges. Desperate for some semblance of perfection, I’d stripped away my self-respect. I’d stripped away me.

A dry laugh bubbled up as the tea kettle sang its song, a high-pitched screech that seemed to boil in time with my blood. A tendril of sun stretched its fingers from between a sheet of grey, rays of gold reaching through my window, beginning to thaw the frost. Layers melted away, drenching the floor with what had been.

Absent-mindedly, I plunged the tea bag into the small blue mug, my eyes glued to the thick tree line outside my window as scents of peppermint wafted upwards. Specs of light flickered to life in the distance, a town readying itself for the night as I stood idle, allowing the shadow to stretch over me.

A timer buzzed, the distant vibration signifying the end of my waiting.

At first contact, swirls of flavor electrified my insides. The scorching tea drenched my throat as I took my first sip, ignoring the burn on my tongue until I was ablaze from within. Another sip fueled the fire, the flames reaching higher, my entire body engulfed in it. A small smile cracked through my stony expression as my insides turned molten, layers ripped away. Inch by inch it consumed me, until only ash remained.

Blood orange airbrushed the sky, painted colors fading with each passing moment as the sun nestled below the horizon, night readying for its shift. For the first time, I reveled in the quiet, deeps breaths bringing me back to myself, sparking to life the soul that’d sat idle for so many months, locked away by layers of ice.

Sluggishly, I blinked as I swallowed, a sheet seeming to be pulled away, vibrant colors breathing life back into my quaint home. A bookshelf filled with spines of varying heights and colors, stories I hadn’t picked up in far too long. Knickknacks accumulated over years, each piece handpicked with care, until the inside of this drafty dwelling had taken on its own personality, until it’d become a reflection of who lived inside. But similarly, it’d been disregarded, pushed behind a curtain until all vibrancy was stripped away, only muted colors remaining.

Only now as I ran my fingers over the dusty shelf, did I seem to remember why the “unorganized” bookcase sat in the living room, why the “unstylish” wall décor was placed where it was. Neglected, it’d bided its time, waiting for the light once again. It’d never fully gone, always there, always waiting. A bird cackled outside as I plucked a book from the shelf, my stomach growling as I switched on the lamp that sat atop my end table.

A violent gust of wind shook the outside wall, a crash of glass filling the room as a picture frame fell from the mantle, shattering the image within. And as I fell back into the deep blue couch, a dusty novel in my hand, I beamed, continuing to sip my warm peppermint tea. For with each sip, hope was born, rising from the ashes and taking flight like a phoenix in the wind.