When I said I did a lot of bath scenes,
I wasn't kidding:
I pour in almost twice the suggested amount of bubble bath, filling my little bathroom with the overbearing scent of green tea leaves and cinnamon. I consider opening the window, then think better of it. It’s nearly 15 below.
I pull up my stress-free playlist, and turn the sound way down, letting the vibrations make the plastic buzz as I leave my cell laying facedown on the toilet lid.
Shedding my 8-day dirty jeans and sweaty socks, I toss them onto the wicker hamper lid, preparing my willpower for the first real bath I’ve been able to take since the wounds on my legs sealed off, relieved to finally have the green light… I’m long past ready for this-
-Don’t think I would have had the energy to try to stand in the shower today, going through the tedious steps of cleansing my ravaged carapace. I know I wouldn’t have had the patience to be gentle, and that would’ve set the whole process backward again. The last thing I want is an infection - to be hospitalized all over again. Or…maybe the second to last thing…
I take a deep breath and ease my body into the warm water, forgetting the nurse’s instructions to test the water temperature first, to avoid any sort of shock. Fortunately, it’s cool enough, but even the slightest stimuli trigger the panic. I’m not sure if it hurts or if I just think it does. My skin begins screaming at me, as I grit my teeth, and submerge my body up to the neck. It’s a little better after the initial alarm. Like the first chill of diving into a frigid river. I leave the water running, churning soap into a layer of foam like the froth on a vanilla latte. I steep. Steaming my cinnamon skin into “Lady Tea.” Thick bubbles shimmer on the surface with little rainbows, a thousand shades of glory, as if someone captured Iris in a bottle. The simplicity is dazzling.
I think of taking a picture of that and sending it to Kattar, but I doubt he’d count it.
And yet, they each play a different and important role in the story