THE
BREAKUP
So,
now he was alone with his pain. A red
hot poker in his belly. Searing coals
ready to sizzle his insides. The
episodes were coming at shorter intervals, each more intense.
“It’s been three weeks since I’ve seen you, and you
still don’t look well,” Libby had said, as she began to straighten up
the mess in his apartment, a mixed look of concern and disgust on her face. “When
are you going to see a doctor?“
“I
did, I told you. Ulcers. Gotta watch the chili peppers.”
“I
mean a specialist. I think that
diagnosis is wrong.”
“And
what do you know, Dr. Libby Sullivan? Miss couldn’t get through any high school science
class without my help? Stop butting in
where it’s none of your business.”
His
words and tone had the desired effect.
Libby left again. Maybe she would
stay away for good, this time. He was as
rotten as his insides.
There’s
nothing in it for her. A lot of self-sacrifice
and TLC around the clock. Three
months? Six months? Too long to watch her eyes cloud up with his
pain. Too long to see her lips quiver as
she fed him or wiped the sweat from his face.
Too long to watch her watch him.
Too long to see her love turn to pity.
Better that she hate him. It was
the least he could do to show his love.
end
of summer
cold draft
in
all the rooms
Contemporary
Haibun On-line, Dec. 2007
