Free Shaxoa's Gift by DelSheree Gladden

understand,
Uriah, and I will help you. I’m just scared of what you’ll
find.”
    “You’ll take me to see the Shaxoa?” I
asked.
    “Yes, I will.”
     
     
     
    7: Small Cracks

    My face was stuck to the fake leather of the
photo album when I woke. I felt awful. I had to force my eyes open,
even though I could feel the hot sun already warming the room. It
had to be well into the morning. Taking a deep breath, the
persistent pull of emotions washed over me and I longed for Daniel.
Hugging the pillow to me in place of the blue-eyed boy I wanted, I
was suddenly confused.
    My pillow was not the usual blue, it was
yellow. I sat up trying to figure out where I was and why Daniel
was not with me. The small room swam before me for several long
minutes before tears began to fill my eyes, clouding the view even
more. I was still in Uriah’s room. I had woken up, in his bed,
looking for Daniel. What was wrong with me?
    It had only been one day, and I was already
losing ground. How had I let myself slip so badly? Memories of
Daniel’s face and touch kept trying to slip in past my horror, but
I refused to let them tangle themselves in my mind any further.
    Turning my face into the pillow, I breathed
in the scent of Uriah. The mixture of smells calmed my mind.
Alfalfa, sheep, the cologne I had given him, his shampoo. I picked
apart the individual smells, each one a part of Uriah’s life. I
wanted to stay wrapped in his blankets all day, but knowing that I
was there alone instead of with Uriah, as I would have dreamed, I
pushed the blanket away.
    Swinging my legs over the side, they dangled
just above the floor. My painted toenails stared back at me,
waiting for the command to move. Resisting the urge to climb back
into bed, I forced my feet to touch the floor and carry me to the
small bathroom. Glancing at myself in the mirror, I blanched. I
looked worse than before. It shouldn’t have been surprising. Even
though I had slept half the morning away, I couldn’t force away the
memory of my dreams. They had been torturous. Thoughts of Daniel,
promises of a future more perfect than I could imagine, invaded
every sweet memory and dream of Uriah. Touching my dark locks, I
looked longingly at the shower.
    I had no other clothes with me. I didn’t
really mind wearing my jeans again. I usually wore each pair a few
times before sending them off to be washed. I would be more than
happy to borrow another of Uriah’s shirts, but I didn’t think I’d
have much luck finding some fresh underwear anywhere in his
dresser.
    I would have to go home today. There was no
way I would stay, not with my father there, and not when I was so
desperate to immerse myself in reminders of my love for Uriah. I
would simply gather a few personal necessities and leave. I had
nothing to say to my dad, anyway. Still, I didn’t want to leave the
house without having showered since Thursday morning.
    Resigning myself to a clean body even without
fresh clothes, I undressed quickly and slipped under the hot water.
Steam filled the small room, wrapping around me, clouding my
thoughts. Tilting my head down, I let the water run over my scalp,
fanning my dark hair around my face. I took my time washing my hair
and body, filling my mind with each scent that normally belonged to
Uriah. I sighed when I realized I had nothing left to wash.
Reluctantly, I stepped out of the shower and began putting my
clothes back on, all except my shirt.
    I searched Uriah’s closet for the smallest
shirt I could find. His large t-shirts made wonderful pajamas, but
they might get in the way while I helped Uriah’s mother. Toward the
back of the closet I found a small cache of clothing Uriah couldn’t
have possibly worn since he was ten or twelve years old. Removing
one shirt from a hanger, I laughed.
    The screen painted t-shirt was an old
baseball jersey. Not the embroidered, button-down type he wore in
high school, but the one piece style handed out to the peewee
leagues. Uriah had