"Seasons"

September 23rd 2006

Vivaldi's "Spring" from "The Four Seasons" echoed off the bare freshly painted deep yellow walls of my small new apartment. It was painfully plain, a dramatic contrast from the warm home I left back in Seattle, but it would do for now. The fumes were just starting to bother my nostrils as I finished the last coat of semi-gloss in the bedroom, but I endured. I was determined to finish the whole place before the next day. Once my new job started I wasn't sure how much time I would be able to devote to home improvement. Being stubborn and headstrong was always viewed as one of my more negative qualities, but I wasn't about to spend one more night in the vomit green colored bedroom.

I wasn't comfortable leaving the windows open while I was sleeping, so my old navy blue couch would have to serve as my bed for the night. Not to mention the autumn air wasn't any less chilly in Virginia this time of year. The open living room area that temporarily served as my bedroom was finally free of the chaotic mess and now showed signs that an organized human being now inhabited it.

On the dining room table laid three outfits, all neatly matched with shoes, jackets, and a purse. The first was my idea of what a high class business executive woman might wear on a casual day, something I hated to imagine wearing. The suit was black, straight laced and more conservative than the clothes found in a preachers daughters closet. The second outfit, and my favorite, consisted of a new pair of black high heel boots, a clean pain of dark jeans, and a dark long-sleeved button down blouse. The last outfit was a good medium between the two. I matched a tailored pair of black slacks with a dark green, short sleeved fitted sweater and a pair of black flat boots.

Of all the things I should have been concerned about, what to wear was ranking high on my worry list. First impressions were a big deal, and the right clothes were a huge part of the equation.

It was almost midnight before the painting was done to my satisfaction. By then I was ready for a nice hot shower and a warm cup of herbal tea. By tomorrow night I would be able to sleep soundly in my own bed, and complete my claim on the place.

I left the music playing while I checked the locks on all the windows and doors before heading to the bathroom, careful not to wake my large, sleeping, German Shepard on the blue matching chair. I always checked the locks twice at night after a man was able to enter into a friend of mines house because she neglected the simple gadgets. It wasn't an obsession, or a small case of paranoia, it was purely precautionary.

I started the water and had a seat on the sink while waiting for it to heat up, staring at myself in the mirror.

It was hard to believe I was still here. For the longest time I thought of myself as weak and ordinary, but I, Charlotte Ryan Moss, was anything but ordinary. Through both high school and college I gained physical strength that was admired by both my male and female peers. I ran every morning with my loyal dog Holster, lifted weights five days a week, took both boxing and Pilate's classes, and was still able to eat anything I wanted. I had always had a complex about my figure, never having been what my mother called "feminine enough" to meet society's standards. It was by far the weakest link of my self esteem.

As I got older I showed my concerns about physical appearance less. The truth to that was simple to me. It had been almost six years since someone genuinely called me beautiful, and my belief and conviction that I was, died along with the people who had tried so hard to prove it to me. It simply just didn't matter to me anymore.

I told myself I couldn't think about those past events, that it would only bring back painful memories that made me feel less than human, but even saying it verbally didn't work. I carried the deceased with my through every operation, every mission, every trip to the grocery store, like a surgically implanted weight. Unlike most who did the same, I never allowed it to consume me. I enjoyed life and had come to terms with the fact that they would be hurt if I ever stopped living because of the grief. I helped people now, and that made the burden worth carrying.

I tossed my paint splattered clothes in the wicker hamper behind the door and slowly submerged myself under the running water. Water was pure and capable of cleaning away even the darkest of agents. Thinking back, some of my most powerful thoughts and revelations can while I was in the water. The back of my neck tingled as the water hit it, the sensitive nerves complaining about the heat. But the pain was bearable. After a few months I had learned to live with it.

Tomorrow was going to be a fresh start. Technically I was still working for the same people, but this was the job I had wanted since the beginning. And there it was: the silver lining in the storm cloud of my compromised identity.