This is not the first time my hair soaked up the smell of death. When Lorri overdosed and died, I went into her apartment to salvage anything for her 19-year-old son. She spent the $8k she saved for his college semester in 2 months. When I walked in Lorri’s apartment, I walked over needles and empty dime bags. I thought about what her son might want. I found photos of Lorri and her son when he was young. Her journals of poems and short stories. Lorri’s papers as she was pursuing her degree in social work. The smell of death was faint. It had been about a week since she was found dead on her closet floor. I remembered to put my hair in a bun. The way my nonna taught me. Wrap your hair real tight so everyone can see your beautiful face my nonna lovingly told me.

Lorri’s daughter was about to turn 18 in a few weeks and the adoption papers were going to be unsealed. Olivia, you were so close to seeing your mom again. Never doubt that she adored you. I found some photos of you and your mom with your beautiful long straight hair.

I thought maybe her son would want the photos, so I took them to her memorial. He didn’t. Lorri’s son and his dad never claimed Lorri’s body. It was over $2k to have her body cremated. No one would pay it. Her body stayed at the morgue unclaimed. That fucking broke me. That her beautiful soul was unclaimed. I could not even fully attend Lorrri’s memorial. I stood in the hallway and cried.

When my husband’s best friend died in his apartment, I would smell death again. not just in my hair but in my shoes. in my underwear. in my skin. My husband and I took all of our clothes before we walked into our condo. It was 30 degrees outside. I was naked on our back winding steps that led to our 2nd floor condo. All our clothes including our coats and shoes went in a trash bag. I washed my hair several times with different scented shampoos. I could not get rid of that smell of blood and shit. I sat in the bathtub as the water was a second of relief.

I start talking to myself. Sitting in the bathtub. The shower pressure low at this point.

‘Okay. get your shit together. this is your husband’s best friend. Stop worrying about what you saw. What you smelled. What you cleaned up and threw away in a trash bag. This is not about you. David didn’t even like you. I am so hungry. I don’t think I should eat anything in case I throw up. I need to order wine. 2 bottles as I know I will need a drink tomorrow night too. yes. that Italian pinot grigio from the close-by liquor store. They know my order. They always drop in a free snack like Doritos or BBQ chips. what do I wear when I get dressed? I am so hot. I feel like if I overdress, I will pass out. I pinch my wrist to ground myself. I pinch my wrist again. Just like my favorite therapist taught me. I will be okay. I will be okay. I am always okay.’