The Real You

Moving On & Letting Go

"Everything all right in there?" Alan's voice sounded from the other side of the bathroom door.

We were back at the hotel, where I was currently locked in the bathroom. As soon as I'd recovered enough from my crying fit to no longer sound like a dying seal having a seizure, Alan had held me for a while longer, proving me once again that I didn't have to be though all the time, that he'd be there for me when I needed him. After that he'd driven us back to the hotel, not once letting go of my hand on the way there.

As soon as we got back to the hotel I'd excused myself and headed for the bathroom. The resounding thud of the door slamming shut just caused me to flinch, and I couldn't help the shaking of my hands. The first ave of shock and anger had now waned, leaving only a painful reminder of what I'd lost. Sadness seeped into my bones, a lingering reminder of the hurt and despair that I'd suffered at the hands of my parents. The fact that I'd refused to see how broken and fractured my relationship was with my mum and dad only added to the sadness now building inside me. I should have seen it earlier. Should have guessed something like this was coming.

I'd gotten into the shower, clothes dropping to the floor where I took them off. It wasn't like I needed a shower, but I wanted something to do. It felt like I needed to wash off the painful memories, the haunting thoughts, to scrub my skin clean of the last remnant of my inner pain. But it went deeper than my skin, and when I'd been standing under the shower, turning the streaming water a scalding hot, a new wave of tears found their way down my cheeks. My vision blurred, and I feverishly scrubbed against my skin with soap, until it was raw and stinging. It didn't dull the pain inside.

And that's when Alan had come knocking on the bathroom door.

I wanted to answer him, I really did. But he'd already been so supportive, so gentle and caring. He had been there for me, looked after me, and here I was, cowering in the shower like some weak spineless girl. It felt wrong, not to let him in, but at the same time I felt like he'd already done more than enough for me. I couldn't expect him to continue to put up with all the emotional baggage I was currently lugging around.

"Samantha, please" Alan's voice sounded muffled from the other side of the door, and yet I could clearly discern the concern in his voice.

"I'll be out in a minute" I managed to choke out through my tears.

He'd been trying to give me some space, to let me work through this at my own pace, but apparently his worry had trumped his patience and he had come looking for me, to see if I was okay.

I heard a garbled curse from the bedroom, and then a few scraping sounds against the door, followed by a harsh click and the grinding of metal against wood.

The bathroom door opened.

"For the love of God, Samantha...." he was muttering under his breath, and I could just make out the vague outline of his body through the misting shower walls. The glass panels were clouded with steam, dripping with moisture, and the water was beating down on me like stinging hot pinpricks.

"It-it's okay. Give me a moment" I muttered quietly, still feeling the salty taste of tears on my lips as I spoke the words.

"The hell it is" Alan said quietly, his voice growing stronger as he approached the shower cubicle.

Then he was opening the door, his features momentarily hidden by the bellowing clouds of steam as he stepped into the shower.

"Alan...what-?" I said softly, eyes widening as he turned, closing the glass doors behind him. He was still dressed in a white dressing shirt and a pair of dark jeans. Barefooted, it looked like he'd ditched all essentials like a phone, wallet and his shoes before entering the shower. He was soaked in no time, water pelting down on the two of us. Now we were both standing under the scalding hot water.