What the French toast?
1210 Words
“For once in your life can’t you try something new?” I say to Ben, making him laugh hard. He looks at the oatmeal I’ve made for breakfast with dismay, then up at me with questions in his eyes.
“Oatmeal is hardly new, it’s tasteless and boring.” Ben crosses his arms.
“You have never tried it the way I make it. If you make it with milk, eggs and put..”
“If you have to add so much to make a meal taste anything it’s not good,” says Ben, stopping me before I’ve even finished telling him what makes my oatmeal good. His face looks like an angry toddler, ready for demanding bacon or something. Ugh! Men!!!
“Well how about tacos?” I ask him. “By your way of thinking tacos are not good either, because you added salsa, and cheese, and what about the spices added to the meat? And the tomatoes and guacamole?.”
“The salsa are a part of the tacos,” he retorts, but I see a smile hidden under his scowl.
“If I can’t have jam on my oatmeal you can’t have salsa on your tacos.” At that he lets out a roaring laughter, accepting the bowl I have offered him.
“This is what I love about you Lorena,” he chuckles. “You challenge me from my set ways.” Drying his tears he gives me a little peck on my nose before he scoops up a mouthful. His scowl is somewhat back, but at least he’s trying. I see surprise in his eyes as he starts to eat up the rest. The man is an amazing cook, but making oatmeal taste good has never been on his mind.
Having eaten he takes his leave for the university and I sit down for some reading before I have to head off for work again. Today I’ve got a shift at McKingFry, but no classes. Searching for a detail about carbon dating I almost don't hear the door knocking.
Opening the door I groan as I see Sean standing there with a bouquet of flowers in his hands. It’s my favorite flower: blush peonies. He hands them over to me and I take them reluctantly. This shade of pink goes well in mine and Ben’s hallway. The walls are painted light grey with one wall being a mirrored closet and the wall opposite having my old dusty pink sideboard and an empty silver vase. Above is a painting of a forest, painted with soft colors.
“I’m sorry for my behavior at the library,” Sean says when I accept the flowers. “I never meant to scare you.”
“What do you want? Why do you keep bothering me?” I ask him and he hangs his doo doo head for a few seconds before answering me.
“I want you back, Lorena. I came to ask you to give me a chance. You saw the truth yesterday; you saw I did not lie about what happened. I…” he sighs, fidgeting with something in his pocket, then kneels. “Please Lorena, I beg you to forgive me.” He’s folding his hands like he is praying to me, making me take a step back.
That’s the moment Mr. Harris steps out to the corridor to see what’s happening outside his apartment. To be an old fart he sure does have good hearing. “Take her with you. Maybe I can get some sleep without her screaming all night long!” the craptastic neighbor says and slams the door on us again. I can almost see the blood starting to pump in Sean, and if this were a cartoon I’m pretty sure steam would come out of his ears.
“Who’s making you scream?” he asks with an ice cold voice.
“None of your business,” I state. “And as you clearly understood I have a boyfriend. A boyfriend who treats me with love and respect. Not to mention I don’t have time for giving you a chance. Can you please go so I can read for my exam in peace?”
“You are my Beloved!” Sean screams, so I slam the door shut. He continues to rage, judging by pounding on the door. I’m not going to open the door for that self imagined blood leech!
“And I’m not so sure I believe your story!” I scream back at him. “Leave me alone!” This makes the pounding at the door stop, so I walk back to the living room too agitated to read more. That asswaffle! I can’t believe I used to love him!
Seeing him again, even like this, makes the wound of his cheating resurface again. It's almost like it just happened again. I fall back into the sofa clutching my heart. I want to cry, but the stupid frog face outside do not deserve my tears. Why can’t he leave me alone? I have moved on and Ben is making me happy.
I want to call Ben, but he’s teaching a class and I know I cannot reach him. I feel so alone in this! I need to talk to someone. Looking at the time I know Chris is at work, but she might be on a break.
“Can you talk?”
“No, about to start again,” she responds immediately.
“You okay?” ticks in milliseconds after.
“No, Sean is back…”
“Damn! The usual place, tmw?” The text after is full of kisses, hearts and hugs.
“Yeah, thx! Lov u
Knowing my bff has my back I feel a little better, but being angry and sad have used up all my study time. Dressed up in my work uniform, I open the door to the apartment carefully. I cannot see Sean anywhere. Relief flushes through me until my eyes glances at the door and I groan in dismay.
The previous white hardwood door is dented and full of bloody knuckles- and palm prints. The metal sign with mine and Ben’s last names is ripped of and has been thrown with so much force it’s standing in the wall next to Mr. Harris’s door. What the French toast? Examining the hall I see the beautifully carved wooden banister of the stairs have been under the same rage. Solid tree trunks of wood have been broken off and everything is smeared with blood.
Feeling my heart pumping hard and every muscle getting ready to run I try to back my way inside. Shock has made me walk out in the hall, and taking in all the damage made by Sean I regret it wholeheartedly. I need to call the police or something! The man has become too violent!
Having almost reached for the door I feel my body get slammed into the wall with massive force. Sean almost chokes me as he presses my body to the hard surface behind me. I try to hit him, but he doesn’t even register my feeble attempt to stop him. I feel woozy and black dots float in front of my eyes.
- Writer
