Naomi

Naomi lowered her naked body into the bathtub, the cold water feeling like silk raising itself over her. She closed her eyes and relaxed her neck and arms on the curled ledge of the tub, the cool white ceramic a relief to her burning skin. The echo of water dripping from the faucet thumped her brain, the plunk of water growing louder and louder. There was a cool breeze coming from somewhere, although she wasn’t sure if she left a window open or not. The distant smell of air freshener wafted to her nose, jasmine and white tea. Naomi loved the floral smell. She was ecstatic when she had found a perfume that smelled similar to it. It had come in a small glass bottle that faded from pink at the top to purple, with a jasmine flower as a stopper. She had been wearing it the night she met Weston. A smile spread across her face as she remembered how he had pawed her body when they made it back to her apartment. “I love the way you smell,” he murmured into her neck. She bit her lip to keep in the giggles.

The had had sex for two hours that night, and by the time she had woke up the next morning she knew she was in love. It was also the time when she noticed the gold band around his ring finger. Hurt but not defeated, she tried to confront him as he was leaving.

“You know, this doesn’t have to be our last night together,” she cooed into his ear. ‘I won’t tell if you won’t.”

But Weston made his way to the door, then looked back at her, mouth half-open as if he were about to say something. One hand was gripping the doorknob but he had yet to open it. She wanted him to say something, and she swore he was about to, but instead he just shook his head and walked out. Naomi could hear his footsteps walk across the hall to the elevator, and she could hear the ding of the bell as it ascended along with him. Naomi felt the pit of her stomach crumble as she realized that she wouldn’t see him again.

However, a week later he had called to say that he was on his way to see her. She had been so excited that her hand was shaking as she put on her make-up. As soon as he walked through the door she ravaged him, not caring that the bedroom was nowhere near where they were. This is how it went for a year. She knew he was hers, and her confidence became stronger every time he left his wife to see her. He loved her, which was why she felt no qualms about being pregnant with his first child four months later. So, you’d think that after two more years, a penthouse and another baby later, Weston would be coming home to her, giving his new family a bigger and better house than the other, giving Naomi his last name through marriage, but no. He still went back to Laura, she still had the better house (the better everything, actually), still had his last name. Everything Naomi wanted, she had. Naomi fought so hard to make him hers, but he just kept going back to that woman.

A tear rolled down Naomi’s cheek. After all she had done for him! He said he still loved his wife! But Naomi knew him. She knew him better than Laura did, and she knew that he loved her more than his wife. They actually had a family together, and what has his wife given him? Nothing! He had to love Naomi more, but he was confused and desperate. He didn’t want to hurt anyone’s feelings, but that was too bad. Once Naomi proved that he loved her more, she would insist that he leave Laura. And this time, he will.

Weston said he would come by to pick up the kids at 4:15. Naomi looked up at the pink rose plastic clock hanging on the wall. It was 3:47. The timing was good.

Naomi could hear Weston Jr. singing to his baby sister in the next room, and the tinkering of their toys knocking together. She reached behind her and felt her way across the cold marble countertop of the bathroom sink, her fingers resting on an orange pill bottle. She twisted open the bottle and poured a handful of long white pills into her palm. She looked at the lines in the pills, trying not to count how many she had resting in her hand. Naomi closed her eyes and downed the pills, her throat being able to swallow them all without any water. She then took a deep breath, listening to the thud of her heartbeat. She stared at the wallpaper of the bathroom, following the lavender flower pattern across the gray background. A white light was coming in through the windows; not the typical orange-yellow that came from the sun on a normal day. From the little that Naomi could see, clouds had begun to accumulate in the sky. Huh. One of the windows was open.

The dripping water began to echo in her ears again. Her eyes went to the chrome faucet, watching as another drop of water accumulated along the mouth. The drop slowly swelled, growing larger and larger like a bubblegum bubble. The drops boomed and banged around the shell of her brain, sounding as if someone were pounding on a thick oak wood door.

Naomi looked at the bathroom door, as if expecting Weston any minute. Her son was calling her, but Naomi didn’t answer. The drops began to sound distant and deeper, slower, the room darker…Drip. Drip. Drop…