Become a Fan
By J.E. Seanachaí
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
Rated "PG" by the Author.
I've been writing to you every day since you left.
The robins woke me up at 4:30 just before the alarm went off. I mumbled something about the short weekend like I always do and stumbled into the bathroom with my eyes closed. Shaving cream sputtered from a rusty can and I felt your fingers brush my face. Then I opened my eyes and remembered.
I still hurry to finish in the bathroom even though it doesn't matter anymore. Breakfast is getting easier, too. I remember to put the second coffee cup back in the cabinet before I cross that gouge your brother made in the linoleum. Maybe by June I'll learn not to get it out at all.
Where did you put my tie, Mindy? You know, that one you hate with the yellow stripes. So help me, I've nearly turned the place upside down looking for it.
I still hate your mother. I take that back. I despise your mother. Did you give her a key? Every night when I come home I can tell that the house has been rearranged. I have no idea what she's looking for, but I know she's been here because I can smell permanent and muscle cream in every freaking room. Jeez, Mindy, you DIDN'T give her a key, did you?The porch is a mess. Yeah, I know it's May and you'll want to start grilling out there, but I haven't felt like bagging up the trash. OK, so I've been pitching A LOT of things out there. Maybe if I throw enough crap out there you'll tell me to get my sorry butt out there and pick the mess up.
Oh, Mindy, I--
OK, I'm breathing now.
Your brother was over Saturday. I don't think I said more than ten words all day. I let him talk at me for eight hours while we ate pizza. Pizza and pretzels. No, I didn't check my blood sugar. I felt fine. I haven't checked it for two days. I probably shouldn't have told you that because now you'll worry. While we ate we watched that dumb horse race. Yeah, he still pretends to blow that dumb horn and makes that stupid noise when the horses are loaded into the gate. Why does he do that? Watched some boxing, too. You were right. It's nothing more than a bunch of spoiled bigmouths dancing around and popping each other's face.
I broke the handle off the lid that fits on top of that large pan you keep in the oven. I wasn't cooking. I got mad at something (I can't even remember what it was) and it was the first thing I grabbed. Now there's a dent in the drywall in the kitchen.
The lilacs are blooming. I cut a bunch like you always do and put them on your dresser without spilling any of the water. They should last for a couple of days because I put a couple of aspirins in the vase before I filled it. If you hurry back they should still be here.
There's a bunch of folded-up papers on the dresser, too. They're next to the small cedar box where you keep your shell necklaces. I've been writing to you every day since you left and tucking the notes underneath that lace thing. I might have to get a bowl or something to stuff them in so they don't fall on the floor.
Dear God, Mindy.
Where are you?
Site: J.E. Seanachaí
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