Wednesday Morning
A Short Story.
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She remembered the first time she did it. It wasn't really exciting and it wasn't really frightening either. It was more unsettling...nerve-wracking. Something her old self would have been too pensive to do. Matter of fact she was pensive when she had done it. She really couldn't put her finger on what made her do it...what compelled her to do it. She tried to think if maybe there had been a voice...whispering...nagging...there was no voice. Perhaps there was a deep rooted evil that had awakened, making her passionate and wild from the depths of hell...but that wasn't it either. She didn't believe in a hell. It was more of a feeling...an urge to recover something. She felt as if it had been stolen from her and it was her right to get it back but such a thought seemed misguided and wrong since she never possessed it to begin with.
She was never one for speaking...privately and publicly. Even now as she sat in her favorite seat on the public transit she felt a sickening lurch deep down in her stomach at the thought of asking the man who sat next to her if he could remove his brief case from atop her foot. She would let it go numb. He however didn't mind speaking...the boy from her Brit Lit class. He was all too smart and all too witty for such a weak minded flaw. When he spoke, it reminded her of a roll of soft silk, sliding off smooth, effortless, his thoughts polished with a shiny finish, and his syntax of pure quality. Never once did he ridicule himself. Never once did he restrain himself. For him it was always so easy, never pensive. She loathed being near him. Her age-old habit of fidgeting, the bouncing of the knee and the twisting of the hair, would always eddy up when he was close. She loathed him and yet...may be it was something about his eyes. She found the blue in them to be quite striking. There were too many things that she found alluring about him...too many things others found alluring about him...too many things she lacked.
When she had decided to do it he had worn a blue shirt. It was the first thing that caught her eye when she saw him that day. She felt as if it had been a sign...something fated. In fact the whole thing seemed to be fated. When she followed him after class he boarded the same transit that she rode since the beginning of the semester. He even sat across from her favorite seat so her eye on him wouldn't go compromised. In fact they even shared a few words that day. He, taking notice of her, made to take up small talk asking of her of her hometown, her year, and her major. Detroit, junior, English...her answers short and curt. He stepped off the transit on the third stop. It was two stops before hers but she decided to follow him anyway, making sure to slip back unseen.
Now that she thought about it the whole situation seemed sort of romantic and ideal. Their stride fell into the same step and they strolled together down the street with ease. Such a thing thrilled her to pretend and fill her mind with make believe. The easiest thing for her to do was dream. She imagined that they were courting one another, hiding the affair in deep secrecy. He knew she was following all along and their distance was their own little game. Each step became an intricate, sophisticated, maneuver and nuance in their own dance of the English court. Their lovers' embrace would have to wait until they were behind closed doors. She had slipped so easily into his apartment building and followed him up his three flights of stairs. When she reached his door her eyes locked on the golden 36 B that was branded upon it. She lifted her hand and allowed her fingers to trace the numbers, her mind reeling with ideas on what it was like when he first moved in. Of how his future burned so bright, how his family helped and supported him, and how unrestrained he had faced such an uncertain path.
Her first came against the door three times. Cordially he answered. He had been surprised to see her and she provided a feeble excuse about class to gain access inside. With little effort she found that he welcomed her openly offering her drinks with the humblest of hospitality. She accepted his offer of tea and preoccupied herself with scanning his collection of swim trophies. He had been speaking but she didn't hear. Her mind was full of her task at hand. She couldn't stop herself from thinking, thinking of the consequences, thinking of her weakness, thinking of her doubts, thinking of her pleasure. The moment he entered with the cup in hand she plucked one of the heavy trophies from his collection and drove it hard against his temple. A loud shattering resounded about the room...from his skull against the marble...from the porcelain cup breaking on the floor...or from her own self ripping free she did not know. The whole experience had been exhilarating. She stood over him, finding herself enjoying his disoriented shuffling on the floor. She waited for him to turn his blue eyes upon her again before she drove the trophy once more deep into his temple, letting him stir no longer. She made sure to wipe the trophy clean and lay it back perfectly in its proper place.
She left his apartment feeling justified and avenged. The same feeling coursed through her veins now that she had recounted the entire situation. It had been months since she procured freedom and it had been months that she watched his family and friends alike mourn in his memory. She felt no regret, felt no guilt yet, she found sweet satisfaction in his memory. It felt like a stain removed, a weight lifted. No longer was she restrained, pensive. Little by little her flaw began to fade away and she felt honored to stand in his shoes. But now the same ugly uneasiness of the past crept up her skin. That same feeling urged her...compelled her. The transit came to a lurching stop. Her eyes locked on a young woman - the same young woman she had been watching since they met at the coffee shop, candid and brimming with infectious vivaciousness. The young woman shuffled to her feet and stepped out of the door. Leisurely she stood and followed after.
***
Note to my readers: This was a short story I did for class and finally got back from my Professor. I'm on vacation and once I get back I will start posting more chapters of Sweet Dreams to Nightmares ASAP!
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