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Claude AnShin Thomas
The clouds seemed pasted into
the sky, the air smelled of snow and my soul felt wrapped in
barbed wire as I reached for the door handle of the trailer.
I wasn't supposed to be home now - I'm an unexpected visitor.
As I slowly, softly, turned the handle I could hear her voice
so clearly in my head.
"So what's the matter with
you, you haven't touched me in weeks. We haven't made love in
months!! What's the matter with you anyway, huh? Got another
girlfriend? Or do you just really hate me that much you, you,
you insensitive fuckin' asshole! You love that god-damn motorcycle
more than you love me !! What's wrong with you (man), come on,
fuckin' tell me, say something you know, don't just sit there
like some useless pile of shit. But you know to call you that
is flattery because I'd probably get more affection and more
fuckin' attention from a pile of shit than I get from you. Come
on talk to me, say something for Christ's sake or I'm fuckin'
outta here to find someone who will give me the attention you
I remember the door slamming
as she left. The sound invading my stomach like some blunt instrument
stealing g my breath.
I couldn't touch her, I just
couldn't. I wanted to hold her, love her and just couldn't. I
wanted to tell her, explain how there was this hole in the middle
of my chest where my heart was supposed to be and that I felt
dirty inside or somehow unclean. That when I touched her I knew
that I was supposed to feel something but I didn't. And I was
consumed by some sort of guilt about this. That touching her
then just became to painful. I wanted to tell her this and tried
but she just looked at me with a mixture of hurt, anger, and
loathing telling me what a horrible, disgusting excuse of a human
being I was and on, and on, and on.
My breath came more quickly as
I eased the door open, afraid of what I might find behind it's
sanctuary. Afraid of who the owner of the strange car in the
driveway might be, terrified.