Source: (Picture of a couple with woman looking annoyed)
“Being with you is arduous.”
“What?”
She rolled her eyes and spoke more loudly and slowly, “Being. With. You. Is. Arduous.”
He mimicked her volume and tone, “I. Heard. You. I. Just. Don’t. Know. Why. You. Are. Saying. That.”
“I’m saying it because I’ve tried to tell you five times what I needed today and you either interrupt or ignore. Meanwhile, I’m taking care of all your stuff on the back end and still have to beg you to complete simple tasks for the benefit of your own health.”
“I didn’t ignore you. I heard everything you said.”
“Then take your pills, for God’s sake, I’ve asked you three times and you already missed them yesterday.”
You know the move guys try where they insult a girl to make her feel unstable, then talk her up and get her number? Yeah, it’s trash right? But it’s trash that works because we are taught to devalue ourselves as women pretty much every day of the week.
Right, so, this was how I met Jeff. It’s a small town story about a small town girl, abused and molested by an alcoholic father, used and dumped by countless small town guys and finally loved (I mean, beaten) on a regular basis by Jeff, the most amazing man I would ever meet.
I mean, ok, he was trash, like my Dad, but I knew I could help him because we had a love like no other. Our romance was a whirlwind of hookups, alcohol fueled fights and Netflix and Chill. I had never felt so lucky. Except when I didn’t, like the night he wrecked the car and got a DUI or the night he stole my rent money for drugs.
Ah, memories! I have so many. Like the night he punched me in the face just before my mom’s birthday party because I asked him to hurry up. Or the night he set my clothes on fire because my skirt had flown up when the wind took it at his softball game (apparently I did it on purpose). Oh! And I don’t want to forget the night he came home drunk, pissed the bed, woke up angry and beat me for shaming him when I was pregnant. I mean, I was pregnant when the beating started…
Then there was the night he forced me into the root cellar and raped me. I was pretty sure he planned to kill me. We never went through the trap door. There was nothing in the root cellar we used or I wanted to see.
I was grateful for the empty wine bottle left there by the last residents. I used one to hit him in the face, stunning him long enough to push him off me. It broke in my hand leaving a shard. I clasped it hard enough to draw blood, which ran down my arm and dripped on the floor. I didn’t mind. In fact I relished the blood. It was a satisfying epitaph for my life thus far. Unfortunately, my triumph was short lived. He pushed me down into the dirt and broken glass, taking me from behind. That was the moment I stopped loving him for good. I fucking hate anal penetration. It hurts and makes me murderous. It made me murderous.
I’ve since placed a large piece of furniture over the trap door but I can’t sleep. I hear it all night. The banging, the whining… Is it a ghost or is it something else? I can no longer remember… I don’t want to remember. I think I’m going to move soon.
He held her close as they danced. It felt like the time before… Like their wedding night, only three years earlier, when she had nuzzled sweetly into his neck, and he swooned with disbelief. How could this beautiful creature be his wife?
“What are you thinking, Darling?” she looked up at him wonderingly, her blue eyes as deep as the wide ocean on a clear, cloudless day.
“I was remembering our wedding day. We danced just like this and I couldn’t believe you had settled for a clod like me.”
“Yes… Just like our wedding day… Except.”
“Except?”
“Well, we didn’t have to dance around with my IV pole back then.”
“Oh… Well… It’s temporary. I mean, you scared me but you’re really on the mend.”
“No, Darling. I’m not…”
“You’re not?”
“No. I died two years ago and this isn’t how it happened. I asked you to dance but you said it was silly. Then I asked you to stay, because I felt like something was wrong but you didn’t do that either. You waited until I fell asleep, and you left and got drunk. You weren’t there when I died. The nurses couldn’t even reach you when I coded. The whole night passed before you found out. How could you do that to me?
“And now, you want to make up an alternate ending, just because you are asleep? No. You don’t get to do that. You have to wake up! Wake up! WAKE UP!!!”
He woke with his heart in his throat. What the fuck had just happened? He looked over at his fiancee, sleeping peacefully next to him, blissfully unaware he was gasping for breath.
He needed to see her kind, blue eyes. “Hey…” He shook her lightly… “Chloe… Hey…” her eyes opened and he felt his pulse slow instantly. “I’m sorry… It’s just, I’ve been thinking. You’re right. We’ll take the dance lessons. I’ll be glad to dance with you at our wedding.”
“Ok, Baby. I thought you would come around.”
“I’ll do anything for you… Will you do something for me though?”
“Probably. What is it?”
“Will you make a doctors appointment? I can’t explain why but I really want you to get a full checkup before the wedding.”
“You do? Why?”
“I just… I had a bad dream where I lost you. Just please?”
“Ok but only if you will too.”
“I will, I promise. I’ll do anything for you. I love you.”
It was an unusually cold day when they found him, huddled below the dryer vent, meowing pitifully. Her heart broke open immediately with compassion for the small creature, and though he couldn’t leave it out in the cold, he felt his guard rise immediately, placing a wall between them. She picked the creature up easily, placing him on her breast beneath her coat. He followed her resolutely inside.
“We have to get him some food, Ben. Check and see if we still have canned food in the cupboard from Felix,” She already had him on the counter, looking him over carefully, “I suppose I shouldn’t let him get on the counter already but I need the light. Of course, he’ll need to see the vet tomorrow, but he looks ok for tonight.”
“We’re not keeping him.”
“Not the hard food, Darling, the soft food. It should be under the sink.”
“Did you hear me, Nel?” his voice was muffled as he dug through the cleaning supplies, dish detergent and various sponges which had taken precedence over the forgotten cat food. It hurt his heart a little to see how many things had gotten in the way. Had it been so long? She hadn’t answered so he asked again as he emerged, “Hey, you heard me, right?”
“We’re not keeping him. I heard you. Shall we call him Lester?”
“Don’t name him… And especially don’t name him Lester. For God’s sake. We’re not keeping him. We’ll just call him the cat.”
“George, then?” she was scooping the food into a dish… Felix’s dish.
“Where did you find that?”
“It was above the sink. How about Frank?”
“I said no names. I’m not calling him a name.”
“Look how hungry he is, poor little thing. I think I like Finnian. We can call him Finn for short. What do you think little Finn.” Finn purred loudly, while he gulped down his food. “Would you pour him some milk, Darling?”
“Nel…” he said helplessly, but she didn’t seem to notice his distress. He turned to the fridge, poured the milk and abandoned the scene in the kitchen, to lose himself in television for the evening.
He tried to tune out the cooing from the kitchen. What was wrong with her? Hadn’t it been enough to lose Felix? They didn’t need another cat.
His wife entered the living room, cradling the kitten to her breast once again. “He won’t stop purring,” she sat next to him on the couch, placing the tiny creature between them, “I think he’s really happy to be out of the cold. He would have died out there, you know.”
“I know. And I’m glad we brought him in but Nel…”
“I know. I know. You don’t want to keep him… I set up Felix’s litter box for him. He used it already and everything. He’s really sweet. Aren’t you little Finn?” but the kitten was busy climbing up Ben’s pants to his lap.
Ben tried not to pet him. He really did but the kitten purred and kneaded and looked up at him sweetly. He was hard to ignore and Ben found his hand doing the work of its own accord.
“So, you think Finn is a good name?” his wife’s smile told him she knew all along.
“Yeah. Ok. But just until we find him a good home.”
“You said the same thing about Felix, you know.”
“I know but he broke my heart,” but even as he said the words he felt it beginning to heal. He might become whole again after all.
Source: (Picture of partially obscured person sitting on a bus bench)
Me too… Me too… Me too… The hashtag was everywhere and she wanted to hide. It was too fresh, too… She shuddered… “Me too,” she thought, “Fuck that guy. Fuck that hashtag. Fuck everyone.”
She slammed her laptop closed, and left the office, pulling her hoodie tight over her head, as she exited to the street. Me too… There was the bar she had gone to. Me too… There was the alley they had found her in. Me too… There was the police station. They kept calling her to come back in to do paperwork but they didn’t seem to believe her, so fuck them too.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket and she ignored it. It was probably her mom. She couldn’t deal with her. It was too much work to pretend she was fine and had never had someones dick forced into her. There was no point in telling anyone, since the police weren’t inclined to press charges.
She steeled herself at the corner near the Asian market. This was the worst part of her day. She turned onto her block, and there he was, plastered onto the billboard near the overpass. His larger-than-life grin promised to save her a lot of money on insurance. He had grinned just like that as he fired his disgusting seed into her. Thank God for the morning after pill.
She hated his stupid grinning face. She wanted to climb the overpass and stab the fuck out of it, like he had stabbed the fuck out of her. He grinned and grinned like a deranged clown, about to shoot at the crowd from a bell tower.
But the billboard next to his… It turned her stomach to see them together… Next to him was another face, a pretty, but smart looking lawyer. It was captioned “Me too and I’ll make him, pay.” She shuddered again. Last week, the pretty and smart me-too lawyer was found dead from suicide.
“How was the date? It must have been good, you were out all night.”
“Pretty good. Yeah. I’m going to bed.”
“Wait, Roomy, I need the details… Did you, um, have fun?”
“Maybe.”
“Did you, you know… C’mon… Fill me in.”
“Oh. I mean I would but you’re too nice for my naughty details, Church Girl.”
“Stop. You know I can’t help it. Where I come from we didn’t talk about that stuff… Much less do it. But now I need to know everything… C’mon. Fill me in.”
“Only if you ask properly.”
“I can’t… But I want to hear…”
“Ok. Goodnight, then.”
“Wait! Ok. I’ll try. Did you… Did you have… I mean did you have the big O?”
“The big O? What does that mean?”
“You know…”
“I don’t. Are you asking if we watched the Oprah Network because the answer is no. We were too busy fucking.”
“Oh. Well, that’s the big O…”
“Oral sex?”
“No.”
“Because we did that too. Are you sorry you asked yet?”
“A little but I’m working on it. I let Johnny kiss me with tongue last night.”
“Oh my, God. You were dying to tell me weren’t you.”
“So much.,. Should I let him get to first base?”
“No. But you should definitely let him feel your boobs.”
“I’m going to.”
“Babe, you gotta say it. Say: Johnny, feel my boobs…”
“Johnny, feel my boobs. Oh my gosh. Can I really say that to him?”
“Yes. You can. Because you’re breaking free from oppression and you can tell a man exactly how you want him to please you sexually. Now, are you headed to church this morning?”
“Yes. And afterward, I’m going to ask Johnny to feel my boobs.”
“Damn, girl. You got this. Ask him to kiss them also… Trust me. Next week you can let him in your pants. Now go to church and have fun. I’m headed to bed.”
His green eyes held remorse but they couldn’t match her devastation. The world froze. It literally stopped turning, and she thought, “so this is what that’s like,” before she fell to the floor.
She fell.
She fell.
She fell…
She thought she would never stop falling.
Prequel to She Flew: published in September 27, 2019
Natolie Webb 