Saturday, July 21, 2018

Everyday For A Month: Day 19

I always used to tell myself... odd things. 

Like, make weird predictions. 

For example, I’d be rooting through my wallet, find a $2 bill, and in my head, I’d say something like, "you're going to spend that $2 at a gas station in Montauk" or, "2 years from now, the t-shirt that guy was wearing at the bus stop is going to be important to you". 

Just ramblings. 
Weirdo thoughts. 
Things that didn't make any sense.
They never came true. 

Until yesterday, when I said to myself, "you're going to regret meeting Sarah. This is going to be the worst thing that ever happened to you."

The voice that said those words inside my head was mine, but it didn’t sound like me. It sounded more sure. More absolute. 

In short, the little warning stuck with me.

Why would I even say something like that about a woman who was quickly becoming the girl of my dreams? I mean, it wasn’t like I’d meant to say it; it was more like mental word vomit that just popped into my head. 

Unfortunately once it did, I couldn’t make it go away.
Sarah picked at her salad across the table from me. 

“Dylan, are you okay?”
I nodded and looked around the busy restaurant. 

Even though nearly every table was occupied, the din of voices never grew above a loud whisper. A balding man in a tuxedo gracefully tapped at the keys on the grand piano in the corner. 

This place was nice (and so was Sarah for that matter), so what was my problem?

“It’s nothing, I just don’t feel like myself lately.” I answered finally.
“Anything you want to talk about?”
“No, not really.”
She frowned, so I added: “There’s not much to say on the subject.”
She nodded weakly.

“Well, I have good news.” She said, forcing cheer back into her voice.

I raised my eyebrows and faked a smile. “Tell me.”
She took a bite of salad and when she finished chewing she said: “I have someone that wants to sublet my apartment.”

She was beaming now.

We were one step closer to moving in together. One step closer to marriage. A white picket fence, two and a half kids. The works. 

I tried not to shudder. I tried to ignore the echoes of that little warning I’d given myself about Sarah yesterday.

“You're going to regret meeting Sarah. This is going to be the worst thing that ever happened to you."

“That’s great, baby.” I said through a bite of steak.
She frowned again. “Is it? I mean, you just don’t seem very excited about our plans together anymore.”

I reached across the table and squeezed her hand. “I am excited. I’ve just got a lot on my mind.”

“Like what? What is bothering you? We will both feel better if you just come out with it, don’t you think? Are you having second thoughts? Do you want to wait, because I——”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa, Sarah, chill out.”

Her chocolate brown eyes darkened at least two more shades.
“I’m just trying to offer support, that’s what partners do.” She bit the words out at me like they tasted fowl, enunciating every word perfectly.

“I understand that, but dwelling on something I don’t want to talk about is just making me even more nervous and… uncomfortable.”
“So now I make you uncomfortable? Dylan, you're unbelievable. How can you even say that to me?”

At first, I was going to say that it wasn’t her making me uncomfortable, just the pressure she was putting on me to ‘tell all’. I didn’t like it. It made me angry, and instead of my next words patching up our spat, I said something worse and really pissed her off.

“Well, you do.” I said curtly.

Sarah’s eyes widened, then filled with tears. A puff of wind hit me in the face as she threw her napkin down, grabbed her purse and left me alone at our reserved table.

The relief I felt at her absence was disturbing.

I paid the check and left. 

It’d just rained outside, and the streets were slick with oil, water and careless debris. Rather than hailing a cab, I decided to walk alone down the city streets. I wanted to enjoy the solitude of the city. 

I know that must sound contradictory, but a city is a perfect place to be alone without actually being alone… 

Engines burned past, and the streetlights reflected off black puddles on the pavement. Couples in evening clothes passed me on the side walk, and I thought of her, Sarah.

I’d been an ass. 

But it felt so good to be rid of her. Ever since those words popped into my head, I’ve been weary of her. Almost afraid. 

You're going to regret meeting Sarah. This is going to be the worst thing that ever happened to you."

I couldn’t wrap my head around why that one little warning bothered me so much. 

I walked three blocks and took a cab the rest of the way home. 

My apartment was silent when I let myself in. If Sarah moved in, it would hardly ever be silent anymore. If she came to live with me, nothing would ever be the same again. It would be my undoing. 

As the night drew on, I became more and more sure that I needed to get rid of her. I needed to purge her from my life.

I had a hard time sleeping. 
Tossed and turned most of the night.

Finally, I got up.

There were no thoughts that preceded me getting dressed or putting on my boots. I thought nothing as I grabbed my keys and shrugged on my jacket. 

I found myself knocking on her door at half past three in the morning. She answered in her robes, sleep in her eyes. It was so easy to wrap my hands around her neck. To get rid of her. 

When it was over, I admired her corpse but never regretted it.

I went home and back to bed. 

Woke up the next morning as if nothing had happened. A few days passed and I felt at peace.

One day, while I was at work, two officers came to my cubicle and asked me to come with them. Back to the station. 

I wasn’t afraid. As a matter of fact, I couldn’t feel anything but peacefulness. 

They questioned me for hours. Then locked me up.

All I could think was that one phrase repeating in my head: “You're going to regret meeting Sarah. This is going to be the worst thing that ever happened to you."

Boy, had I been right. But at least now she was gone and I could rest.



  1. BWAHAHAHAHA! YASSSSS! You are speaking my language now, babygirl! Go on, with ya' bad self! I can always read more like this! 👍💯💯

  2. Woohoo! Thanks, Ms Felicia! I'm glad you liked it, and I didn't even freak you out this time! Woot!!!!!!!


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My novel, Trigram, is in the works, but in the meantime, I'll probably be working on short stories such as the ones on Wicked Shorts. (Wink)

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