Every day, I wake in excitement to see you. Every week, I create new memories with you. Every month, we grow together as one. Every year, we celebrate our love. Just one year, you left me. Alone. Every day, I wake with bitter truth. Every week, I regret missed opportunities. Every month, I realize how far we’ve fallen apart. Every year, only reminds me of what I’ve lost. I’ve lost my spirit. I’ve lost my heart. I’ve lost my meaning. I’ve lost my reason to be happy.
You were the only reason, the only reason at all.
I despise Tony. Absolutely despise him. Every word that comes out of his mouth is vile, cruel, and hurtful. I avoid him when I can, but when I come into his view, and runs up to me, trampling everything in his way as if he were an elephant. The least graceful person I’ve met, and yet he never disappoints how much he can ruin my day with his words.
If first met him at a diner in Manhattan. I have breakfast there every weekend for some private time away from my family. I noticed him every other weekend. He tends to want everyone to notice him when he walks in the room so it’s hard not to. This one particular day, he slammed the diner door open, slammed it, then turned and shouted “PIG!”. I guess he closed the door so the policeman couldn’t hear him so well over the sounds of the city. I looked out the window from my booth. I saw a police officer slipping a ticket into the windshield wiper of this ugly, green, pimped up Mazda. I instantly connected this boisterous man with that horrible looking thing. Seems he treats it like he treats himself too. He worked over in my direction. Why do the things you want least to happen...happen? He sits opposite me and goes on this rant about this “pig” giving him a ticket he doesn’t deserve. I honestly wasn’t listening so I can’t recall the words he said. I was paying more attention to the foul stench of his breathe and is greasy skin and crooked teeth. He looked like he had rolled in mud like a pig, but with the mud covering him. He had un-trimmed fingernails and kept tapped them on the table. I couldn’t eat with this. I stopped eating. Let my breakfast go cold whilst blankly looking at him go on and on. Begging him in my head to get up and leave. A waitress came and asked if we wanted more coffee. I said “no”, he said “I’d like a taste of your coffee”, then winked..licked his lower lip, and slapped her on the butt. She ran to get help. I guess he knew his presence was not welcomed any more, as if it were before. He stood up, knocking the table with his belly, and slid out. “Good talk” he almost shouted. Loud guy. “I always see you in this same booth whenever I come in on Saturday’s, I’m thinking of starting that too.” He Wales to the door and slammed it open.slammed it close. That was my first time meeting him Tony.
He only told me his name after the third Saturday breakfast. It’s a never ending weekend cycle. I no longer have this time to myself here. I liked this place but Tony ruined it. I need to change diners. “Damn it Tony, I despise you”.
There’s a monster under my bed. I hear it breathing. Feel it breathing. As if each breathe it takes, lifts me up ever so slightly. I can smell it. The same aroma I smelt not long ago, perhaps only 20 minutes ago some where in the house. My body is rigid with anticipation, adrenaline. I’m ready to pounce the first chance I get. I cannot let it win over me again, not again. Every day, every night, I have to find it before I lose this battle again.
This started 7 years ago. This monster introduced itself to me. It held my hand and let out an enormous scream. A scream that seared itself into my flesh and dreams. I shudder every time I remember that day, the recollection itself haunts me, as it still does as it sitting under my bed. Waiting for me, waiting for it.
I hear I grunt. Quiet enough, but loud enough. I know that it knows, that I am mustering my strength. Waiting for me to disturb it’s resting place, so we can find out who will win this time. One of us needs to initiate. Neither of us will. Waiting. Waiting. Another grunt. What does the grunt mean? I’ll keep waiting.
This particular monster, is a truly repulsive one. I hear it storming and stomping around the house during the day. I avoid it when I can. If I cannot, I have to deal with it’s wrath. It has claws that feel like razors. It’s hair is long and dense. Not something you want to catch on a bad day. I’m the only one it listens to. Occasionally listens to. Rarely listens to. I don’t know why but I consider myself lucky.
I’m ready. I can still hear it’s breathe. Smell it’s scent. Feel it’s presence. I know it’s there. I fill my lungs with the stale night air. Let it back out to fill the space it just held. I slowly creep to the edge of my bed, getting ready. I count to 3. One.... two...thr.. a hand grabs me! Pulls me of the edge of the bed. I’m on the floor. Shocked and full of gitters. I look to my left, under the bed. I see it. It’s eyes, it’s mouth, it’s thick hair. I see the monster.
My sister. My baby sister that I love oh so much. She shouts “found you!” I don’t tell her I knew she was there all along. “You did”, I say with a smile. I guess she wins again.
