Page 30 of Chasing the Red Queen

Donja slid deep into the bear claw bathtub and held her breath as she submerged. She thrashed her hair with her fingers freeing up her locks from a thick application of Pantene conditioner. She sat up, water splashing and wiped at her eyes. She immediately glanced around the bathroom which was empty. She shivered then stood up, water sheeting across her curves. Again, she looked around the room, then suddenly aware of her nakedness, grabbed a towel and covered her body. She stepped from the tub. A surreptitious glance to the window revealed an ebony sky with moonlight spilling across the jamb. She took a breath, the antiquated smell of the bathroom nauseating.

Needs Febreze, this is awful.

She dried herself, slipped into her panties and robe and then rubbed a circle on the mirror thick with condensation. A bump forced her to spin, eyeing the room with her heart in her throat. Nothing. With her nerves tingling, she turned back to her image in the mirror. She hurriedly flossed and brushed, swished with Bright White, spit and hurried for the door. She stepped past the jamb, and glanced back all but expecting to see a hag with beady eyes and a bottle of lineament in hand. She darted down the hallway, long wet locks midway of her back. Finding her bedroom door, she glanced down the hallway, and for a moment thought she saw a shadowy figure beneath the dim, silver glow of the diaphanous lamps. She opened the door, stepped inside, closed it behind and leaned against it, breathless.

“I swear this place is haunted and I’m never going in that bathroom alone again. It’s hungry, it’s going to eat me!”

Makayla, sitting on the floor rummaging in one of her boxes with her wet hair bound tight in a white towel, raised her head. “Tell me about it. While you were getting your bath, I swear I could hear your bed creaking as if someone was in it.”

Unnerved, but not enough to go running in search of her mom, Donja scanned the bed. She swallowed hard, made her way across the room and sat down on the floor beside Makayla.

“That settles it, can we do the bathroom together, I mean, let’s forget modesty, I’m terrified of being in there alone,” Donja whispered. “Safety in numbers, don’t you think?”

“Count me in,” Makayla said nervously while folding silk lingerie.

“Need some help?” Donja asked as a droplet of water streaked her face. “I need a distraction because I’m not in a good place…mentally that is.”

“Sure, I have two boxes to unpack and then we can do yours.” Their eyes slowly met.

Feeling a little creeped out as if this beautiful, rich girl who had lived a pampered life and never so much as washed a dish was critiquing her, Donja raised her hands and spiked her brows. “What?”

“Oh, nothing I’m just amazed.”

“By?”

“Your beauty, which I never really realized due to your—”

“Goth makeup,” Donja whispered as a penetrating heat rose from her chest to warm her cheeks.

“Yes,” Makayla said and then noticing the blush of Donja’s cheeks, added. “Please don’t take offense, that was not my intent.”

“No, it’s okay, it’s different. I’m aware.”

“Well it’s your choice in life, and I’ve seen it on YouTube and Facebook, but to be honest, we don’t have much goth around the Soo.”

“I understand.”

“So how did you,” she hesitated, “you know…get into goth?”

Donja exhaled, her mind a sudden tumult of emotions. For a moment, time stood still and she was back in St. Joe, a ten-year-old kid, sitting at the dining room table as her mom tearfully explained that her dad was never coming home.

“You okay?” Makayla whispered.

Jerked to reality, Donja pushed her dripping locks behind her ear. “After my father was killed, my friend Debbie and I painted black tears on our cheeks and over the years, one thing led to another and finally, we went full blown.” She gently shook her head. “My mom freaked and took me for counseling.”

“Really?” Makayla said with something unspoken in her eyes.

“My counselor said I was hiding behind the makeup because I couldn’t, or wouldn’t, face the death of my father.”

After a moment of silence, Makayla pushed her neatly folded stack of lingerie aside. “My dad told me about your father.”

Donja swallowed past the lump in her throat.

“I’m sorry,” Makayla whispered, “such a senseless tragedy.”

“Yes, it was.”

They both just sat there, not a word and then as if summoned to testify, Makayla exhaled forcefully. “Well at least you used makeup to cope,” she laughed though it wasn’t much of a laugh at all, “which is far better than what I did.”

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