Story part 3

Author's Note:  This is the third part I've completed in my story about the character Tinny. I realize the parts of the larger story don't fit together right now, but I'm mulling over how I am going to do that. All in due time. Until then, here is the third part of the story.

Sweet Nothings

“I have a devil in me:

He makes me spit in your face,

He makes me laugh at the law—

I have a devil in me.”

--The Meat Purveyors, “I Have a Devil in Me”

Craig put some sad song by some band I’d never heard of on the television through his iPad. We listened in silence.

Though not normally one for mournful indie rock, I found the song enjoyable, which surprised me. Most of the time I think those hipster bitches are whiny jackasses when they get on those extended minor chord tangents. Eh, so your girl left you and life’s a big bucket o’ suck—you ain’t dead, so shut yer nasally yap. Everyone goes through trials and tribulations—some moreso than others—and it doesn’t mean that we all have to write pathetic-wrapped-in-milquetoast anthems to celebrate it.

Craig switched off his iPad at the end of the song and dabbed at the corner of his right eye with his fingertip.

“Dude, are you crying?” I asked with barely restrained incredulity.

“Nah,” he said. “I just get a little misty when I hear that song, that’s all.”

“Why?”

“Brings back memories.”

“Of what?”

He looked at me as though it should be obvious.

Since it wasn’t readily apparent, I crossed my legs on the couch, took a swig of beer, and thought deeply about it.

Then it hit me. Like a freight train. I had to proceed with caution to get what I suspected the answer would be out of him. Delicate subject. Shit.

“You still have feelings for your ex-wife, don’t you?”

He looked away and sighed. That gave me all the affirmation I needed.

I was pissed. Beyond pissed. All this—the nice treatment, the paying of positive romantic attentions, the hot sex—it was all a farce. A huge cosmic joke.

“You miserable fuck! How could you do this to me?” I spat in fury.

“You just want me to hold your hand, listen to you cry, give you some head, and pass the time with you in this fuckville town, but I don’t mean anything to you!”

I punched him as hard as I could in the right shoulder.

“Ow! Cut it out!” he stuttered, clearly astounded at just how quickly I could go from placid to abject fury.

“No!” I shouted. “How dare you do this to me—again! How dare you!”

I was continuing to accent my words with fierce blows to his face, upper arm, and chest. He quickly moved out of my reach and to the other side of the room. I stood up but didn’t follow him.

“How could I have been so stupid? I should’ve known—that shitty poster you did with her that’s still on your wall—by the way, your French ‘I love you’ painted on it is amateurishly wrong—that picture of you two on your wedding day on your Facebook page, the fact that you never want to be seen in public with me—why? Is that so tongues won’t waggle and get back to her that I exist? Fuck you! Fuck! You!”

I was now throwing anything I could get my hands on—the throw pillows on the couch, the glass coasters on the coffee table, a hard-bound copy of Charles Baudelaire’s Les Fleurs du Mal—directly at his head. I have very good aim, and he was really working at dodging my improvised missiles.

“What is your problem?” he shouted furiously at me.

“People like you!” I screeched as I hurled a game console remote at him. “People like you!

“You are so fucking goddamn arrogant! Shakespeare said that it’s better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all! At least you had someone who loved you once! I’ve had no one! No one! I’ve never had a relationship last more than thirty days! Ever! I’ve never been engaged or even had the opportunity to have a man say he loves me! Instead, men just like you always come along and expect me to give some physical comfort and emotional support to them until they feel strong enough to move on to the next dumb cunt they’ll build their live around and toss me by the wayside! And I’m sick of it! Sick! Of! It!

“You had loving parents! You weren’t rejected at every turn! You don’t give and give and give of yourself and get nothing—nothing—in return! I’m the one who’s always there for everyone, and yet, when I need someone to be there for me, I get crickets! Nothing but crickets!

“I even told you all that before we got to doing whatever in the hell we’ve been doing together! And still—I mean nothing to you!

“How could I have been so stupid to think that you’d be different than every other man in my life?”

I stopped shouting because I was overcome with angst, shame, sorrow, and embarrassment. Tears were pouring down my cheeks and my chest was heaving under great sobs. I was absolutely furious. And heartbroken.

“Look, Tinny, I’m—” he started apologetically.

“Shut up! Shut! Up!” I growled through clenched teeth. I grabbed my hoodie and my purse and made my way towards the front door.

Craig stuck his hand out gently to catch my arm and stop me.

“Don’t you touch me!” I snarled as I glared deeply into his eyes.

I then continued my hasty skulk out the door, slamming it as hard as I could on my way out. I hoped all of his neighbors in his quiet little subdivision heard the loud bang in the still night. I wanted them to know about me. I wanted my existence to get back to Craig’s ex-wife.

I heard something inside the house to fall to the floor and shatter.

Good, I thought with malice. Good.  

Inconvenient Truths

Inconvenient Truths

You know

I know

That you

Didn't want

Me to

Say those

Inconvenient Truths,

But it is

So hard

To watch

Yet another

Good friend

Make 

Yet another

Phenomenally Bad

Decision

In their life.

I knew

From the

Very moment

You told me

Those circumstances

Who she really was

And

What she was

Really all about.

I realize she is your wife.

I said

Those frank words

Not because

I have

Any designs

On taking

Her place--

I know

I can

Hold

The attention

Of no man

That way,

Especially not

Wonderful You,

Even though

Our carnal

Knowledge

Of each other

Is fresh

And forefront

In our

Like minds.

I said

Those things

Because I have

Been in

Your situation

Before

With many men.

She doesn't want you--

She doesn't want

To be

Alone.

Please believe me

When I

Tell you

These things.

It breaks

My heart

To say them.

I wish to God

I was wrong,

But I've been

On the

Misery Merry-go-round

At Dysfunction Junction

Many unfortunate times.

I know what tunes

Its calliope plays

And what the

Garish horses'

Saddles

Feel like

Against

Your flesh

And how heartsick

Ride after ride

Can make you.

I say

These things

Not because

I want to

Replace her--

I say

These things

As a close friend

Whose heart

Will bleed

When she

Crushes you--

Again.

I know

I am

Safe

In writing this

And posting it

Here,

Though you are

One of my few

Face-to-face friends

Who actually

Reads this page,

Because you have

Gone silent

To me

Since I

Said

Those things.

I realize she is your wife--

But I

Don't want

To see

You hurt

As I

Have been

Repeatedly

In the past.

It isn't right

For someone

To hurt

Like that.

It isn't right

For someone

To hurt

Another

Like that.

And now for something completely different...

In spite of all of the sad things I have going on in my life at the moment, I do have some good things happening, too.

I was recently interviewed for a job, which I got. I will be working at a craft and fabric store as a cashier for the Christmas season. It is only a temporary job, but it's a job nonetheless. It will be nice to finally do something outside of the house and earn a little money. 

I also recently took an exam to test out of the chemistry class requirement for the registered nursing program at my college. The exam consisted of 44 questions that you had to complete in 45 minutes, 21 of which had to be correct in order to pass. (Unanswered questions were not counted against your score but incorrect answers were.) In 40 minutes, I completed all 44 questions, and I got 35 correct answers. I am now one semester away from officially getting into my college's registered nursing program. I'm really excited about that! 

Mean People Suck.

I recently bought two dresses to wear out and about. (See above.) 

I wore the top one to a job interview. 

I wore the bottom dress to a cousin's engagement party, and I got a lot of compliments on it from people in my family and people in the bride-to-be's family.

Feeling proud of my really good shopping skills (the two dresses cost me less than $25 altogether), I posted the pictures of the dresses on my Facebook page and tagged my friends and family in order to show them the dresses. I really hate getting my picture taken because I feel that any picture of me is absolutely awful, so the fact that I had the pictures taken in the first place should tell you how nice I felt I looked in the dresses. 

I did get a lot of positive compliments on Facebook for both dresses, but unfortunately, one bad apple did spoil the bunch.

An older female relative of mine wrote the following comment on Facebook about the bottom dress:  "Not very flattering. The other one looked better on you."

To which I politely replied:  "Well, I got a lot of compliments on it at K-- and L--'s party tonight."

To which the female relative replied:  "Oh, well I guess feeling pretty is the most important thing."

Now, I have a lot of body image issues. I've struggled with my weight in recent years. I had lost about 80 pounds, but I've recently regained about 40 of those 80 pounds. As you can see from both photos, I am rather short, so it is very obvious that I have put on that weight again. I've also never thought I was pretty, even when I was thin. That is another major reason behind why I don't like to be photographed. I think I'm ugly, and I know I'm fat.

That relative, who is a retired diplomat from the US State Department, ruined my night. 

Even though a bunch of friends and family members chimed in on Facebook that they thought my dress in the bottom picture was super cute, all I can hear in my mind is that I look unattractive.

All I can think now when I see that bottom dress is:  "I got called ugly by a woman who is notorious for her hideous sense of style."

That really hurts.  

So, please, people, if you can't say something nice to someone, even over the internet, don't say it all. You don't know what they're going through and how crushing your words can be.

Invisible Woman

Whenever Richard Cory went down town,

We people on the pavement looked at him:

He was a gentleman from sole to crown,

Clean favored, and imperially slim.

And he was always quietly arrayed,

And he was always human when he talked;

But still he fluttered pulses when he said,

"Good-morning," and he glittered when he walked.

And he was rich—yes, richer than a king—

And admirably schooled in every grace:

In fine, we thought that he was everything

To make us wish that we were in his place.

So on we worked, and waited for the light,

And went without the meat, and cursed the bread;

And Richard Cory, one calm summer night,

Went home and put a bullet through his head.

--"Richard Cory" by Edward Arlington Robinson

I often feel invisible.

And misunderstood. 

I'm not suicidal.

I just want someone to talk to. 

Someone who will take the time to understand.

Someone besides my therapist.

Someone who would enjoy my company.

Not someone who says, "Oh, you should do this! My friends and I did it a few days ago, and it was awesome!"

There are only so many things you can do alone before you get lonely. 

There are only so many stories you can listen to before you want to tell your own.

Cancer Sucks.

I actually do have some good things going on in my life right now, but I don't feel like sharing them with anyone at the moment. When I feel more up to it, I'll post them here. Until then, I'm going to talk about what is taking up more space in my consciousness right now. 

And it's not pretty.

It's the "Big C."

Cancer. 

I'm not the one with cancer, but four very dear family members of mine are now battling cancer, and I lost the most dear one to the disease. 

You try to stay upbeat and optimistic, especially in front of the sufferers, but it's hard. It's so hard.

One thing they don't tell you and you can't prepare for is how much cancer hurts emotionally for the loved ones of cancer patients. Their cancer doesn't just affect them, it sucks the emotional life force out of you as the family member. You feel at a complete loss so often that it is bewildering and disorienting.

And that is not even one half of one percent of what they are feeling inside but not expressing to you because they don't want to upset you. Ironic, isn't it? They're facing the battle of their lives, the time when they most need to drop everything and just focus 110% on their own health and well being and recovery, the only situation in which I would wholeheartedly approve of becoming a complete and total narcissist, and they worry about you.  

Example of an actual conversation I had with one of those cancer stricken relatives:

"How are you doing, X?"

"Oh, I'm just fine. I only have a little tiny bit of nausea after my treatments. The chemo really seems to be working!" (Smiles broadly.)

What I was actually thinking:

"No, you're not fine. I saw you barf in the parking lot at the restaurant we met at, and you left the table twice during the meal to yak your guts out in the bathroom. I know. I was in the stall next to you in the bathroom during your second trip. I timed how long you were in there when you excused yourself to go to the restroom. I stopped watching my watch at the 10 minute mark. And it took you at least another 5 minutes to rejoin the rest of the family at our table. I also saw the paper copy of your most recent laboratory results when it fell out of your pocket and opened as it fell to the floor. I used to work in a hospital lab, remember? I know how to read those reports, and I know damn well what they mean. 

Christ Almighty, you're brave. I'm scared shitless for you. If my doctor had handed me a copy of my most recent laboratory report and it looked like that, I sure as hell wouldn't be able to smile and insist that cancer was just some minor inconvenience, like a small dental cavity. I'd be too hysterical for words."

But thank you for your bravery. You are handling one of the worst situations a human being could ever face with a smile and a positive attitude and a grateful heart. You are showing me how to face any challenge in my life with dignity and class. 

You're also allowing me to believe, for just a small moment in time, that you aren't really that sick. That you're probably not going to die. That you aren't being ravaged from the inside out by your own traitorous body. That you're not constantly miserable and tired and in dreadful amounts of pain. 

See, that little white lie you tell and stoic face you present to the world takes me back to my childhood. My favorite game was called "pretend." I pretended to be many things:  an elf, Diana Ross and The Supremes, Grace Slick from Jefferson Airplane, a cat, a teacher, a doctor, a lawyer like my dad, a famous movie star, and many other characters. 

See, when you tell me it's going to be o.k., I can pretend that it will be, that you'll live happily ever after.

But then my deflowered adult mind kicks in, and I know. I know it's a total lie. Your chemo isn't working, you're getting worse. You're not going to live another 5 years. You might not even make it to this time next year. 

And that is not fair. Family members A, B, C, and D, you are all so dear to me,

Family member A, you are a wonderful man. You may not have always been there to see me when I visited your wife, Family member E, and you may not have the most demonstrative affect, but you have always been a kind and loving man in a quiet, steady way. I know you're in your 80s, but I wasn't ready to bury Family member E when she died of cancer five years ago. You showed me what love for a child could be like in your own deliberate, understated way, even when you weren't there physically. I don't care how old you get, I don't want to put you in the ground next to Family member E. Ever. 

Family member B, I haven't been as good to you in the past as I should have been. And I'm very sorry for that. You have always loved and accepted me as I am and are insightful enough to know that I am a deeply sensitive person (as I have always been) and that the best approach to use when teaching me a life lesson was the calm, rational, and positive one. Many people are not so fortunate as to have a gem like yourself in the family. I know that now, so please forgive my past hateful and selfish behaviors. Believe me when I say I love you with all of my heart. Because I do.

Family member C, you have encouraged my creativity and love for various crafts throughout my whole life. You've shown me that if I just thought outside the box and let my vivacious mind roam wild and free, I could create. So many people don't realize what it is to create, how liberating it is. I really appreciate that you saw that art and music and writing could help soothe my troubles.

Family member D, you are so kind and caring and warm. My first memory of you is not about the where, how, or why we met, it is your sparkle, shine, glowing smile, and vivaciousness. I liked you the moment you smiled and introduced yourself to me. Family member F is very fortunate to have married you.  

I know, dear ones, that you have no say in the matter when it comes to your expiration, but if you can, please hold on. I don't want to lose any of you because I will lose a large chunk of my heart with each of your deaths. I feel so helpless because all I can do is ask God to make you well, and God has a habit of ignoring my prayers. 

I know this is so selfish of me to ask of you, but please don't go. Stay with me. Play pretend. You are all right. You have to be. I love you all too much to lose you.         

To my US readers: It's Election Day! Get out there and vote!

Just a little belated something...

Author's Note:  I usually write a scary short story every Halloween to celebrate the day. (Yeah. This would be something I wrote for fun, not out of angst/trying to resolve complicated emotions.) This was this year's story. I know it's a tad late, but I've been out of sorts lately and really haven't been able to focus on writing. Enjoy! (P. S. Forgive the missing word in the meme. I didn't make it.)

La Douleur Exquise

The dun of an autumnal twilight streams languidly through the tree branches above.

Twilight is peculiar this time of year. Rather than truncating the colors of the scenery, the dusk turns the landscape into something more earthy and ethereal, almost sensual and decadent, a sort of richly muted extravaganza for the eyes. The cool, crisp air takes on a heavenly, yet unplaceable quality that is most apparent as the sun wanes. The atmosphere is alive with a moving, yet unknowable energy that is as enticing and electric as a forbidden lover's French kiss.

I sit at the base of a denuded oak on a soft velveteen carpet of polychromatic leaves and listen. I don't know what I am straining to hear, but I know I will recognize the sound the moment its decibel levels are finally audible to my limited human ears.

I strain myself to sit even more still than the hulking tree behind me out of fear it--whatever it is--will be scared off and not come to me.

It has to come to me, I know not why, so I must be very, very placid, even moreso than a boulder.

This thing--whatever it is--controls my fate from here on. 

I belong to it now.

I know not why I was chosen for it, but I know it is not my place to question why any more.

I belong to it, and that is my fate.

Many hundreds of years ago, it was considered a great honor for a young woman to be chosen by it. They had elaborate ceremonies to honor it because they believed that it brought the rains that allowed the crops to grow.

But I know better.

It controls no part of the natural world. It is merely hungry and lusty, as it has always been. And always will be.

As civilization progressed onward to the modern era, people stopped believing in it altogether and young women were no longer sent to it.

But it is very patient. 

It waited for me to come along.

I instinctively knew about it from a very young age. I knew I was intended for it when I came of age.

I have come willingly.

Suddenly, though I do not recall hearing a sound, my ears prick up.

At last. It has come.

It comes from behind a neighboring tree and gently steps towards me. I almost giggle aloud when I see it because it has taken the form of a completely nude man, even though in reality it has no actual sex. It is being thoughtful and trying not to frighten me by taking a human form. It is expressing its gratitude that I have come. 

All this I understand at a primal level--it has no need to communicate with me. I know. I just know.

I begin to disrobe. 

When I have completely disrobed, it begins to approach me. I hold my arms out to embrace it. 

It walks into my embrace.

When we finally touch, the sensation is simultaneously the most wonderful and the most horrible thing I have ever experienced:  Nausea, dizziness, bone-crushing pain, burning, relief, relaxation, ecstasy, inner peace--all of those and many more. I gladly yield to it.

The next day, some deer hunters find my disemboweled body in the woods.

The case will never be solved.