From my WIP…
Manfred fell into bed with an ungraceful thud. His neighbour’s words were heavy in his head. Be better. That’s how you’ll win her back. But there were some things he simply didn’t know how to fix. He took out his phone to look at her last message yet again and then flashed back to her phone call the other day.
“I, uh, just wanted to check in, see how you were doing.”
Manfred clucked his tongue. “Fine.”
Sarah sighed. “Listen, I know it’s not my place to be calling or whatever. I- I just worry sometimes. You keep to yourself and…”
“And?”
Heavy sigh. “You’re still pissed at me. I get it. Fred, we just weren’t working. You were angry all the time. Paranoid.”
“Geez, this is a fantastic phone call. I’m so glad I picked up.”
“Hm.” Sarah sounded amused.
Manfred pinched his eyebrows together. “What?”
“Well, why did you pick up?”
This had made Manfred stop. He had wanted to say a hundred things at once—that the phone rang so, of course, he answered, that he wasn’t always a mean prick, that he hadn’t even seen who it was. Or the truth—that he missed her voice so much it hurt, that he missed her, her smell, her smile, the way she called him ‘Fred,’ how patient she was, how hard she laughed at his dirty jokes. Instead, he had said, “I don’t know. I wish I hadn’t.” And hung up.
His eyes welled up with shame at the memory. He couldn’t deny either charge. And while many couples fought, he knew it was the intermittent arrival of his paranoia that was the thing that scared her away. Who could blame her? The last time it happened, he caught the look on her face- it was the helpless look of someone who was losing someone they loved. Even in the midst of his ramblings, he saw it and knew it for what it was.
It had been a hot June day, and Sarah had brought over watermelon and chicken salad sandwiches. She wore a long, flowing lime green dress and had her hair tied up in a bun. She’d smelled of flowers and marshmallows, and she had laughed hard when he told her so.
“It’s lavender and vanilla, Fred. But you’re cute.”
He cringed when she called him cute, and yet, he knew she meant it kindly. It had taken him two whole years to accept that she meant everything kindly. Sarah was incapable of malice.
They had eaten their fare on a blanket in his living room directly in front of the window air conditioner. It was the only cool spot in the entire house. Eventually, though, Sarah wanted to go outside. She’d brought a few folding chairs the last time she visited and suggested they sit and watch the sun go down. Manfred stiffened and shook his head.
“No,” he said. “The spy is out there.”
Sarah giggled, thinking for a moment he was playing a joke on her. “What? Oh, you. Come on!”
She started to get up from the blanket, but Manfred grabbed her arm and pulled her down. “Sarah, no. He’s out there.” He blinked hard. “The old man thinks I don’t know, but I know.”
“Know what? Fred, you’re not making any sense.”
He shook his head, searching for the words that would help her understand. “It’s that raccoon. The big one. He stares at me when I’m outside, and he’s always looking at the house. The old man has trained him. And he’s got that thing strapped to him. He’s recording me- hears everything I say.”
Sarah’s shoulders relaxed. She reached out and grabbed his hand. “Honey, Mr. Ivankov strapped a tracking device to Cedar because he’s sick, and he doesn’t want him to get too far. I know it’s a bit…unusual, but he considers those raccoons his pets. He loves them. It has nothing to do with you. I promise.”
“No, no. You don’t understand. Everything he does is to annoy me, to get me upset. He wants to break me and then get it all on tape and give it to you so that you’ll leave me!”
And it was then—right then. Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. She changed right in front of him. One moment she loved him, and the next, she pitied him. Even now, the memory of it made him feel sick to his stomach. All those months keeping her at arms’ length, all that time spent crafting a hard exterior so that she’d never truly see him. Sarah had become everything to him and he’d accepted that, but he wanted more time to endeavour to deserve her, to rid himself of the anxieties, the weird habits, and yes… the paranoia.
But now, it was too late.
