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
a cold draftin all the rooms
Contemporary Haibun On-line, Dec. 2007
