Twisters

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I bought a monkey. I called to tell her. Her silence cut through me like a cleaver. Then she sighed. I knew she’d made peace with me. Again.

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The end came. Quickly. Inevitably. She hurried out, and didn’t look at me. She couldn’t. Or wouldn’t. I hadn’t even shown her my pet turtle.

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He orders a beer and then he says, I’m dying inside, and the small woman next to him looks him up and down and says, Not just on the inside.

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I missed you too much, she tells him and they kiss long and passionately. What’s that smell? she asks and he sighs and says, That’s my wife.

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I ordered a cocktail and told her my story and when she couldn’t stop yawning she said, Did you spike my drink? but the truth is I’m boring.

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She enjoyed reading so I bought a bookshelf and filled it with classics and she’d come over and read books until I couldn’t take it any more.

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She took off her shoes, and I fell in love. Or lust. I have a problem, I told her, a door into something larger. She smiled. She understood.

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I got home cloaked in the day’s misery. I found my family, lost in the glow of the TV. I ate a bag of chips. I need validation, I told them.

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And it was time to introduce her to my family. Even my grandparents showed up. We met online, I explained. My grandmother called her “dirty.”

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I had promised her long ago that I would always speak the truth. No matter what happened between us. Your children are very ugly, I tell her.

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