The Resurrection of Aubrey Miller(5)

Upon reentry to Harris Hall, I continue to fortify my walls with a healthy reapplication of mourning and anger, hoping to God that this sudden release of emotion is purely the tragic side-effect of the uncertainty that comes with being in a new place, surrounded by loads of new people to fend off, and not the ultimate weakening of my defenses. Yet as I head up to my room, I also have to consider the waning could be due to the recent battering of my brain by a certain color covering the entire left side of my room which shall remain unnamed. A color that may or may not prove to be my kryptonite, or in the very least, the source of a newfound allergy.
Or maybe it’s just the person behind it.
Because as I watch my new roommate bounding barefoot over every square inch of the room, I’m repeatedly struck by her nearly contagious level of excitement and laughter.
And as each bounce pummels my fortitude, I find myself squashing the very unlikely desire to smile for the first time in a very, very long time.


Chapter Three

“Can’t. Breathe.”
I struggle for the much needed influx of air to enter my lungs, but with Linda’s arms wrapped around me with the strength of Hercules, I’m unable to catch my breath. When the hell did she get so strong?
“I just don’t want to let you go yet,” she whispers lightly, her cheek resting snug against my shoulder as she follows it up with a sniffle. Hesitantly, I lift the arms pasted against the sides of my body to envelop her in a half-hearted embrace while giving her an awkward pat on the back.
“I’m not letting go until you give me a real hug, damn it.”
I begin to make a joke about the use of the swear jar, when she follows up her request with an even tighter death grip—who knew it was possible?—and I have no choice but to relent to Linda’s request. Softening my hold, I reluctantly ease into her embrace, allowing myself to nuzzle ever so slightly into her neck and inhale the floral perfume that’s just…Linda.
For roughly three seconds, I hold on and allow her fragrance to transport me to a once familiar place, one saturated with the essence of light and warmth—a complete contrast from the bitter darkness through which I find myself constantly wading these days. My eyes prick with tears, and I release her before my hardened shell begins to dissolve.
Stepping away from me, Linda inhales deeply and wipes her eyes with the tips of her fingers before she reaches into her purse to—I kid you not—pull out the swear jar and set it on the table between Fi-Fi’s bed and mine. Looking up at me, she holds a semi-serious expression as she states, “Be good.”
I open my mouth to reply with my usual wit-filled retort, but she stops me short. “You’re a good girl, honey. You have a lot of love to give to those around you, if you would just break free from whatever unnecessary chains you have bound around that heart of yours.”
She releases a weary sigh and reaches forward to take my hand into hers. “You’ve convinced yourself that you’re merely protecting those around you from whatever you think will happen, but the only thing you’re accomplishing is the guarantee of leading a very lonely and miserable existence.”
With a sad smile, she releases her hold and places her hand on my shoulder, squeezing it gently. “Life is full of so much that you refuse to let yourself experience. The blanketing comfort of love, the fulfillment of contagious laughter, the peace of finding true joy, the butterflies of uncontainable excitement…these are all things that make up life. They should never be taken for granted. You of all people should understand that, sweetheart.”
I sigh forcefully before finally making my long awaited clever response.
“I’ll be sure to add those to my Christmas wish list, Linda.”
The vigor of hope previously present in her green eyes quickly diminishes and I immediately wish I could take back those spiteful words. Shooting my mouth off is a defense mechanism that I haven’t quite learned how to control. Hence, the swear jar. Good thing there’s not a hateful spew jar. That one would rake in an ungodly amount of money.
Linda releases my shoulder and the somber expression displayed on her face makes me wish I was capable of simply reaching out; to bring her close and never let her go. But I don’t. I watch as she draws in a deep breath before turning away from me, quickly saying her goodbyes to Fi-Fi before heading toward the door. As soon as her fingertips skim the handle, my body seizes with regret.
“Linda…”
My own muffled voice is barely recognizable as I somehow manage to breathe her name. It’s coated with a painful mixture of heartbreak, sorrow, and shame. I hate the person I’ve become. I’m trapped in this pathetic existence, watching the only person who cares about me walk out of this room, knowing she’ll never know how I truly feel about her. Regardless of how much I ache to take the vulnerable steps toward her, I remain where I stay.
Linda stills upon hearing my voice, then swiftly turns and closes the gap between us in three long strides, wrapping me in her arms once again as tears build along the base of my lashes. Looping my arms under hers, my fingers clutch the back of her dress as I crush my cheek against her shoulder, squeezing her with a strength that I never thought capable. Silently, I offer my apology, and with one light stroke of my hair, I know she accepts.
The sound of the bathroom door shutting breaks the still of the moment and we release each other from our embrace. Bringing her hand to my face, Linda wipes the one traitorous tear that managed to escape, then dips her head to meet my eyes.
“See you in a couple of months?” she asks, swiping her own cheek.