Second Time’s The Charm

10 Nov

You’ll have to go through me.

It was stupid, me standing in front of the door, arms outstretched horizontally, grabbing the frame like some glib, white Jesus, as if it was going to make any difference. She had been at the window most of the year. Smoking. Or…dreaming of something else. Anything.
It was stupid. I wasn’t going to be able to stop her.
When a woman leaves you, all the bravado macho energy you’ve piled up over the years and shoveled from corner to corner of the house, looking to impart some perfect balance to a fundamentally unstable structure becomes a pyre of horseshit infecting all the arteries like a cancer.
And all you can muster is a weak, fleshy barrier, resembling a modern first class dunce attempting to stop the momentum of a freight train carrying much baggage.
And afterward you cry like an emotionally undeveloped fool.
And then you drink.
And all the while you feel sorry for yourself because no one else will. And even if they would, you’d still do it.
We are not altruistic animals; to be that we have to work hard against nature. We are selfish and self-centered, socially inept and mostly ill educated about one another.

You’ll have to go through me.

After she left, I raised the Underwood above my head and smashed it on the pine floor. The carriage and the cylinder and the ribbon and the regulator and all of the parts went sliding across and into the radiator valve, scurrying away like little Lego pieces.
Or roaches.
The windows had been left open.
The air smelled like railroad.
There was no wine left in the house.

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2 Responses to “Second Time’s The Charm”

  1. Matt DeBenedictis 10/11/2009 at 12:02 PM #

    I love the speed of the speaking of the ‘bravado macho energy’ part. Kudos.

  2. Erin O'Brien 10/11/2009 at 12:16 PM #

    Love the Underwood.

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