Page 197 of Invisible Bars
I didn’t push. Instead, I let the moment breathe, then shifted gently.
“I’ve never seen a bath so beautiful,” I gushed, trying to bring us both back to something light.
Ms. Shirley smiled again, fuller that time. “Then let it treat you right, today. But baby, this here ain’t no regular soak; this is what I calla healing bowl for the broken and blessed.”
“Wh-what’s all in it?” I inquired.
She leaned over the edge of the tub and pointed with pride.
“Just some oatmeal milk to soothe the skin, some organic rose oil, a few drops of eucalyptus for the swelling, and a little crushed lavender for your nerves. Oh—and three handfuls of Epsom salt, ‘cause Lord knows you gon’ need help standing later.”
I squeaked.
Ms. Shirley gave me a sideways smirk. “Don’t act shy, now. That walk told me everything I needed to know.”
The outburst tumbled out, loud and ridiculous, and I buried my face in my hands as my cheeks went up in flames.
“Pickle juice panic button!”
She cackled. “Mm-hmm. Ain’t no shame in being broken in right. Just rehydrate yourself and stay off them knees today.”
“Okay, thanks.”
I stood there, stiff and unsure, waiting for her to either leave or turn around so I could undress.
She raised an eyebrow with a small grin. “Oh, you want me to turn around?”
“P-Please.”
Ms. Shirley chuckled and turned her back with her hands folded patiently in front of her like she’d done that a hundred times.
I took a deep breath… then another. Carefully, I let the towel slip from my shoulders, every movement slow and aching. My body still rememberedhim—every stretch, every press.
I stepped one foot into the water and winced.
“Ow—good grief—Nipple napkin—ugh!”
“Are you okay, back there?”
“Mm-hmm,” I replied—somewhatlied.
The heat licked up my leg, almost too warm against skin still aching from the night before. I gritted my teeth and began lowering myself in, breath catching with every slow inch.
“Holy potato preacher!” I yelped.
My hand jerked involuntarily, splashing water against the side of the tub. A spray hit my shoulder, and I cringed—both from the sting and the surprise.
“Okay, okay, okay,” I whispered, trying to calm myself and breathe through it. But my body still twitched in protest—still remembered too much.
The tics were flaring because the water was a little too hot for my liking—sure. But it wasn’t just that; it was everything.
The soreness. The memory. The newness of being cared for like that.
The water swallowed me slowly, and I finally settled, inch by inch, my chest rising and falling as the ache turned into something almost soothing.
Almost.
“You done?” Ms. Shirley called over her shoulder, amusement already in her voice.
