January

Twenty four

January

I splash water on my face. I feel like I'm on fire. "You're okay." I tell my reflection. But the woman staring back at me looks anything but. Bloodshot eyes. Sunken in cheeks. I'm starting to look sick. I open my makeup bag and grab my concealer. I normally don't wear makeup, but I have to today. I swipe the applicator under my eyes and pat the product in with my finger. It proves to be more effective then the sponge, in my opinion. I apply a small amount of blush to bring life back to my face. I stare at myself a second longer and realize I look a little funny with only two products on so I reach back into my bag and pull out my brown mascara. With a fair complexion like mine black mascara tends to wash me out.

I uncap the product and lift it to my lashes. My hand shakes and I end up poking the wand into my eye. "Shit!" I shout as it falls out of my hand and in to the sink. I blink a few times to get the product out of my eye, but it burns. When my eyes done watering and the pain subsides a bit, I clean up the mess and try again, after applying more concealer to cover up the mess I made of my face. I try again. My hand shakes so bad I don't even get it close to my eye before I start to lose grip. I toss it at the mirror, with a frustrated growl. It leaves a brown smear across the glass and I reach over for some toilet paper. I wipe at the mark I left on Sawyers mirror, but I just make it worse and that makes me more angry. "God dammit." I toss the toilet paper into the toilet and bring my fists to my eyes. I won't cry. I tell myself. I lower my hands. My eyes instantly land on Sawyer through the mirror. He's standing in his room. His eyes are wide and he stands so still I think I'm imagining.

"I can't even put makeup on anymore." I cry. When I see him my emotions come flooding out. I think it's because I'll miss him so much it hurts. He takes a step into the bathroom and doesn't speak. He takes a seat on the toilet and pulls out his phone. He seems to be typing a few things, and then a video starts playing. A woman's voice flows through the small speakers. "First start with primer." I stare at him as he watches the entire tutorial. My heart grows three sizes. My eyes start to water again, but this time it's because I love him more than anything. He restarts the video and guides me to the toilet. I take a seat and watch as he props it up behind my head so he can still watch. We don't speak as he applies the rest for me. I get a little anxious when he goes close to my eye, but he's so gentle I relax quickly.

When he's done he nods his approval before leaving without a word. It's his way of showing me I'm not weak. I didn't ask for his help, he decided to. I look in the mirror. He added a bit more blush and some highlight. I look healthy. I head into the room to get changed. It's Friday and we're having dinner with his mom and Mo's diner. I chose white jeans and a blush pink knitted sweater. I pair it with loafers and a pink bow. When you look good, you feel good. I try and convince my body. I just want to have a few more normal moments. I come down the stairs to Sawyer tying up his black worn boots. "Ready?" He asks. Concern shines in his eyes, but he doesn't ask if I'm too weak or tired to go. "Yes." I manage a smile.

Mo's is only a twelve minute drive from Sawyers. It's a cute little retro diner. The red, teal, and white colour way makes me smile. We're these actually the colours of diners back in the day or did everyone collectively just agree that they were. Mary waves us over to a red vinyl booth, positioned under an Elvis picture. After hugging her I take my seat quickly. My head feels a little fuzzy. "I ordered us drinks, I hope you don't mind." I give her a smile. "As long as it's a Shirley temple I don't." She laughs. "I couldn't imagine ordering you anything else." Our drinks arrive and Mary asks the waiter for another minute with the menu. I quickly glance at all the options. I'm not hungry. I won't be able to keep anything down. The soup seems like the safest option. I think to myself.

"January?" Mary calls and I snap my attention to her. "Yes?" She eyes me for a second and I squirm, uncomfortable with her gaze. I know I still don't look one hundred percent with my makeup on, and I hope she can't tell. "How was your Christmas with Sawyer?" Oh she was just asking me a question. Sawyer grabs my leg under the table. He's asking if I'm okay. I nod to him. He keeps his hand on my thigh though. "It was nice. I haven't had one with anyone in awhile." Mary looks sad for a second but recovers. I don't want her pity. Me and Sawyer spent in watching movies and cuddled up together in the living room. I made him wake up super early to and open gifts with me and Linda. He pretended he was upset, but he loved every minute.

But then I didn't feel good, and ended the day early. I was disappointed, but what can you do. "That's nice. I missed him on Christmas, but I'm glad he was happy." Sawyer grabs his moms hand. "I missed you too." They're relationship is rocky right now, but I have faith they will be good in no time. The waiter comes back and we order. Sawyer and Mary chat while I chime in once in awhile, but I'm not up for it. "Thank you." I say to the man after he places my broccoli soup down. I take three bites before me stomach hurts. So I play with it while they distract themselves with there own meals. Sawyer keeps glancing at me but I just smile, reassuring him I'm fine. He doesn't seem to believe me, but he doesn't push.

My leg starts to bounce the more I itch to get home and rest. I start to sway a little. Please Sawyer wrap this up. The waiter comes with the bill and I practically pounce on it. "My treat." Mary protest but I ignore her. After I pay, They stand. Thank God. Sawyer helps me into the truck before saying goodbye to his mom. The car ride is quiet and when we get home, he takes Linda out and I fall on to the couch. Thankfully Sawyer wasn't in here to see that. It takes everything in me to lift my legs into the cushion. I close my heavy eyes. I just need rest. I tell myself. Rest will make me feel better tomorrow. But I know that's not true. This is the beginning of the end for me.