Nyla

The alarm blares, jarring me awake. The numbers on the clock read six in the morning. Great. It's time to rise-and-shine already. Lately, I can't seem to get enough sleep. I just want to throw a book at the alarm clock and watch it fall from my nightstand.

Instead, I reach over to turn off the alarm clock and continue to lie in bed. I wake up thirty minutes early to take a moment to myself before getting ready for work. I’m gently stretching my legs and back when my phone dings, indicating a text. I search my king-sized bed for my iPhone and can't help but notice that my crinkly, white sheets need to be changed. There is something about white sheets that calms me —makes me feel like I’m sleeping in a pool of fluffy marshmallows. My fingers brush the cool metal of my cell phone, and I grab it.

An all-too-familiar name is displayed across my screen. 

Ryan. He’s texted:

Call me when you get up this morning.

Ryan knows very well what time I get up in the morning. He spent countless nights here with me. He strategically wants to get my attention at a time that he knows he can.

Ryan has another thing coming! I’m not in the mood to hear anything my recent-ex has to say. He has no right to disrupt my morning, not this early, and not after what he did.

I sit up. My phone is at six percent battery. I plug it into the charger and get out of bed.

I open the light grey curtains covering my floor-to-ceiling windows and step out onto the balcony. My bedroom is a mix of neutrals: grays, white, black, and taupe and my bedroom suits the color of sand. I love oversized pillows and have several currently scattered across my bed. My perfumes sit on a glass tray on top of my dresser next to a vase filled with white flowers. My television is mounted on a wall, and in one corner stands a seven-foot mirror.

I have twenty minutes to sit outside and indulge in one of my bad habits: spending time on the phone before I start my day. Stretching my phone cord as far as it'll go, I pull out one of the chairs on the patio and plop right down. I love the view from my apartment. The trees and bubbling water fountain in the common area below, and general quiet first thing in the morning, are peaceful and refreshing. As much as I love New York City, I also enjoy a reprieve from the fast-paced living.  

I sit for about ten minutes answering texts. Ryan is the last person I message, and I keep it simple and short.

Call you later.

 I don't plan on calling him at all.

My phone time finished, I stand and head to the bathroom. It's time to begin my morning routine. Self-care is an important aspect of my life, and I take it very seriously.

I unlace my silk, pink, baby doll nightgown and place it on the back of my door before crossing to the shower and turning on the hot water. I check my reflection in the mirror, place a shower towel over my head, and open the cabinet to grab my essentials and my favorite Dr. Bronner's all-purpose Castile soap.

The shower feels heavenly this morning! The steam and hot water penetrate my skin, relieving my muscles. I spend a few minutes letting the water run down my body, before I wash up and leave the shower to finish my self-care routine. I wash my face, brush my teeth, and moisturize my skin with coconut oil. Finally, I apply sunscreen to my face. 

Energized for my day, I walk to my closet to choose my outfit. My walk-in closet is almost the size of a small bedroom. It’s organized by color with a wall devoted to shelves of shoes.

When I was a little girl living in Texas, I dreamt of living in the big city, making it, and buying anything I wanted, especially clothes. I obsessively created vision boards every spring and fall filled with Fashion Week couture. I’m living my dream. Yes, my clothing makes me look good, but it’s about taking pride and appreciating how far I’ve come. My clothes mean something to me.

I want to wear something light and decide on a cream-colored ruffled dress. Plucking it from the closet, I lay it out across the bed before selecting an all-black lace set from my underwear drawer. I sit at my vanity next to apply a light layer of Charlotte Tilbury’s Cream foundation. The sun’s going to be out today, and I don't plan on melting. I swipe several thick coats of NARS Climax Extreme Mascara on my lashes to bring out my dark brown eyes until my lashes are full. As my lashes dry, I get dressed.

I take my bonnet off and study my reflection briefly. My hair will complement this beautiful dress in a middle part with light curls at the end. I'm a natural girl, but I take care of my hair enough to maintain its strength and length whenever I have it pressed at the salon. 

Fifteen minutes before it's time to leave for work, I study the shoe wall in my closet and choose a pair of nude heels that’ll go great with the cream dress. I spray my favorite YSL perfume on both sides of my neck, on my wrist and rub it all over my dress. I unplug my cell phone from its charger, grab my black YSL crossbody purse and then head towards the front door. Grabbing my keys from my console table with one hand, I turn off the lights with the other, close and lock my apartment door and head towards the elevator. I press the down button, enter when the doors slid open and descend four flights to the foyer of my twenty four-story luxury apartment building. 

I feel good. I look good. It’s a perfect morning.

“Hi, Denis,” I greet the doorman, smiling at him. 

“Hello, Nyla. How are you feeling this morning?” he asks.

“I'm doing quite fine this morning. How is your morning going? Heavy traffic per usual?”

“You know it, Miss Nyla!” he says as he opens the lobby door for me. “Your Uber is waiting for you out front. Have a wonderful day.” 

“Thanks, Denis. See you later.”

I check the license plates of the black Honda waiting for me before hopping in and greeting my usual driver. I've lived in the white-bricked apartment building for two years now. For the past year, I’ve scheduled to be driven by the same driver every morning. He’s sweet and kind. Never says much, but I like it that way. 

In the morning, I truly appreciate solitude.