The Last Word (A Further Continuation)


Tried as she might she could not get the bloodstains out of the couch. The walls could be repainted, the floors could be washed, the carpet could be replaced, but she was having a hard time with having to get a new couch. It was the first thing that they bought together for their “new” home when they decided that it was time that he should move in with her. She started to cry.

He gathered his clothes into the duffle bag and headed towards the door. She walked with him about to kiss him good bye when she blurted out, “Don’t go.”

“What do you mean don’t go? I’ve got to get home and take care of a few things. I’ll be back tomorrow.” He replied.

“Yeah, but what if today was tomorrow?”

“What do you mean?”

“If today was tomorrow, you’d already be here.”

“I’m not following.”

“What I’m saying, ya big dummy, is you should move here.”

“Move here?”

“Yes, you’re always saying you hate your neighbors and your place is too small. Move in here with me.”

“Are you sure? I snore.”

“I already know you snore.”

“I can’t think of any other reasons why I shouldn’t then.”

“So you’ll do it? You’re really going to move in with me?”

“Yes, I only have one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“You get rid of that couch. It’s not comfty at all.”

“Comfty? That’s not even a word.”

“Yeah, comfty. It’s short for comfortable.”

“I think you mean comfy and it’s pretty suspect that that’s not a word either.”

“Tomaters, tomahters.”

“I’m going to have my hands full with you, aren’t’ I?”

“You wouldn’t have it any other way. So… new couch?”

“Yes, I’ll get a new couch.”

We’ll get a new couch.”

She continued to try to clean the couch but it was proving to be a lost cause. She was angry at him for leaving her. She was angry with herself for not realizing that the signs were there for her to see, but she was too consumed to notice before it was too late. Her mind wandered.

He was lying on the couch covered in a couple of blankets when she came home from work. She put her purse down on the coffee table and scooted him over so she could sit with him.

“I’m gathering that you didn’t go to work today?” She asked.

“No, I’m never going to work again.” Came his reply.

“And may I ask why you are never going to work again?”

“Because I’m dying. The dead don’t have to go to work.”

“Well you better become undead because we have bills to pay.”

“You better hope I don’t become undead.”

“Why is that?”

“Because then I’ll want to eat your brains.”

“Cute. Seriously, you need to go to the doctor. You’ve been getting sick a lot lately. Your job can’t be happy about you taking all these days off.”

“They’re slave-drivers and they are the reason that I’m sick.”

“You still need to take care of yourself better. Go to the doctor.”

“You don’t understand.”

“I understand just fine. You’re sick. Again. You need to see the doctor so you can get better. It’s not science.”

“Actually it kind of is.”

“You know what I mean. I’m worried about you. You’re not taking care of yourself.”

“I’m doing the best that I can.”

“You need to do better.”

“Get off my back.” He said as he flung himself off the couch, almost knocking her to the ground. Still wrapped in one of the blankets he stared at her and said, “Don’t you understand? I don’t care if I die.” Tears welling up in her eyes she pleaded with him, “Don’t say stuff like that. You’re scaring me.”

“It’s true.” He replied. “I really don’t care anymore.”

“You’re starting to make me feel like a horrible girlfriend.”

“This isn’t about you. It’s about me. My failures. My complacency. My regrets. I really don’t want to go into it now. I’m going upstairs to lie down.”

“I love you.” She said to him as he walked away.

Her words were not reciprocated. She sat there for a moment wiping the tears from her eyes. She’s never seen him behave like this before. She was scared. Scared for him and scared for herself. She wanted to fix this. She didn’t know how but she still had to try.

…To Be Continued…

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