reddish bumps. Her hair is dull and frizzy, her collarbones look like razor blades trapped beneath her skin, and the dry cracks in her lips look as though they might split open.
As I stare at the morose face, she appears to be pleading to me. A look of desperation flashes in her eyes as they fill with tears and now I cannot look away. She begs in a whisper, but I can’t make out the words. She begs me for something, asks me to stop. Stop what, I wonder, but she just keeps whispering. She starts crying, the tears finally breaking over her lashes and trailing down her cheeks. I can taste the tears as they hit the corner of her mouth.
I hate her. She blubbers and whimpers, begs and pleads. She begs me to stop, pleads for my help, the words forming small puffs of moisture on the mirror.
The mirror.
The mirror.
I put my fist through the mirror.
I Tried
Monday
“Here we go,” Adam said. He stood in the open doorway and stared out at his new car. His pale skin glowed in the sunlight as he stepped out onto the crumbling cement stair.
“One, two, three,” he said. “Four, five.”
He stepped back into the house and slammed the door.
Tuesday
“Where were you?” Adam’s sister asked through the phone. “You promised, Adam. You swore you’d be there.” The sadness in her voice was palpable.
“I’m sorry,” he replied. “I tried.”
“Can’t you try harder?” A baby wailed in the background. “I have to go.”
Adam winced at the fuzzy click that followed. He held the phone in his hand, stared down at it teary eyed, and sighed.
“I really tried.”
Wednesday
“Alright,” Adam said. Again, he stood in the open doorway. The sweet spring air invaded his nostrils and he heard the faint buzzing of bees from the overgrown garden. “It’s a beautiful day.”
He stepped out onto the concrete, swung his right foot forward to land on the second step. He inched his left foot toward the third step just before the ground and hovered there as he counted.
“One, two, three,” he said. “Four, five.”
He smiled and turned back inside.
Thursday
“I haven’t had the chance to drive it, yet,” Adam said. He held the phone between his cheek and his shoulder, both hands busy hanging heavy, gray curtains over the front window.
“Your sister is very upset with you.” His mother’s tone told him that she, too, was upset.
“I know.”
“Patrice bought you that car. The least you could do is drive it over to see her.”
“I will.”
“Don’t be the failure your father was.”
Adam hung up and gazed out the window at his brand new car. He frowned, admiring the sleek black body and the shiny chrome wheels. Then he pulled the thick curtains together and blanketed the room in darkness.
Friday
Adam stood on the front steps. His right foot hit the second step, his left foot hit the third, and his right foot moved to the ground. Cringing, he brought his left foot next to his right.
“Wow,” Adam said. He stared at his new car, the sun reflecting off of its shiny exterior. “My feet are planted firmly on the earth. And I’m fine. Agoraphobia has nothin’ on me.”
He took a deep breath through his nose, and another step forward.
“One, two, three, four, five,” he said.
He turned on his heel, walked back inside, and locked the door behind him.
Saturday
Adam stood halfway between the front door and the car. He longed for the steering wheel in his hands, the leather seats beneath him, that new car smell.
“One, two, three, four, five,” he said.
He took two steps forward, his heart pounding.
“Six, seven.” Another step. “Eight, nine, ten.” And another.
The sounds of distant car horns and lawn mowers invaded his ears. A dog barked somewhere down the street. A dragonfly landed on his arm and he quickly brushed it off.
He turned and ran back into the house.
Sunday
“It would mean a lot to me,” said Patrice.
“I’ll try,” Adam said. He fidgeted under the sink. “I have a process.”
“A six-month process.”
Adam glanced at the calendar on the wall, and sighed. “I’ll be there.”
Adam sat in the front seat of the car. His hands gripped the steering wheel, his knuckles white.
“Just turn the key, start the car.”
He stared out the windshield as the sky went from bright daylight to dusk. The sun dipped below the horizon, and he climbed out of the car and crept back inside.
Monday
“You were so close.”
“I was,” Adam said into the phone.
“Please come today, Adam. Please.”
“I’ll try.”
“I know you can do this, Adam.”
Adam sat in the front seat of the car, counted to ten, and turned the key.
“Here we go,” he said. He smiled and put the car into gear. His foot laid on the gas pedal; the car rolled forward. “No going back now.”
On the dashboard, Adam had propped up a photograph of his sister holding a newborn baby. That baby, he knew, was so much bigger now. He wondered if she could talk, if she had enough teeth to eat real food yet, or if she was crawling yet. Maybe she was already walking.
The car rolled to a stop at the intersection. Adam waited for the light to turn green, his thumb tapping against the steering wheel. He glanced down at the photograph and inched the car forward, exiting his neighborhood and turning right. A semi-truck sailed through the red light. The photo drifted from the dash and out the window just before Adam’s brand new car turned into a heap of smoking, mangled steel.
Communication Miss
Nina checked her lipstick again before pushing her shoulders back and walking into the bar. Her stomach was in knots as she scanned the sparse crowd for anyone fitting the description of her sister’s friend. Although she was about fifteen minutes late, she hoped that her date was still waiting.
Navy blue jacket, red tie, she thought. What’s his name again? Tyler? Yeah, Tyler. The high heels she wore were pinching her toes together uncomfortably, so she looked for a vacant seat in view of the door. She set her phone on the table and checked the time. Her eyes flicked around the bar, back to her phone, and to the door again. I should leave. I should just go home, put on some sweatpants, and finish watching Breaking Bad.
“Hi.”
Nina turned to see a woman she’d never met before, grinning at her, two tiny cocktails in her hands and a big, floppy red bow on the front of her blouse.
“Hello,” said Nina.
“Drink?” the woman asked.
Nina glanced around the bar again and thought, Why not?
“Sure, thank you.” Nina gestured toward the seat across from her. “Have a seat.”
“You looked lonely,” said the woman, sliding a cocktail toward Nina. They clinked their glasses together in a silent toast and sipped.
“I either got stood up,” Nina said, “or I accidentally stood someone up.”
“Blind date?”
“Yeah,” Nina replied, laughing. “How did you know?”
“Wild guess. I was supposed to meet someone, too, but they never showed up.”
“So that’s the theme for the night,” Nina said.
“It seems that way. I don’t mind, though, I find blind dates to be extremely stressful.”
“Oh, me too, I’ve had acid reflux ever since my sister set this thing up.”
The woman chuckled. “Worried she doesn’t know your type?”
“Kind of.” Nina shrugged, wondering if she even had a type. “She thinks she knows me better than I k
now myself. But, I’m not so sure.”
“Let’s not talk about your sister,” the woman said. “Tell me about you. What do you do for fun, what are you into?”
“Honestly,” Nina said, “I’m the least interesting person in the world.”
“I don’t believe that.” The woman shook her head.
“Really. I’m just a lowly receptionist who likes to get drunk on wine and watch Golden Girls re-runs in my Snuggie.”
The woman laughed. “Are you kidding me? That sounds incredible, I wish we were doing that right now.”
“Yeah?”
“It beats wearing all of this makeup and trying to sell myself like I’m a remodeled vacation home.” The woman leaned forward, lowering her voice. “Plus, if I’m being totally honest, I hate being in public.”
“So do I.” Nina swallowed the last of her cocktail. “We could. I mean, if you want to, we can go back to my place and hang out.”
“I’m a stranger,” the woman smiled, “and you’re asking me to come home with you?”
“You realize we both came here for a blind date, right?”
“Good point.” The woman finished her drink and stood from the table. “I’ll grab my jacket, and we can go.”
Nina walked to the door and watched as the woman pulled a navy blue blazer from the coat rack and pulled it on over her shoulders, framing the flouncy red bow on her shirt. Navy blue jacket… Red tie.
“Ready?” the woman asked.
Nina’s eyes narrowed and she asked, “What’s your name?”
“Now you ask,” the woman said. “Tyler.” She held out her hand. “Nice to meet you, Nina. I guess your sister knows you better than you think.”
Losing a Monster
“So, what’s the plan?” asked Alex.
“Well,” said Wyatt, “one of us is going to have to go in there.” He tossed a thumb toward the door at the end of the