So here it is:
It’s that smell again. That same smell of Aqua Velva and Axe body spray…and cigarettes. Connie didn’t even smoke. I gritted my teeth, throwing down her sheer blouse onto the side of her pink Adidas duffel bag- the one she used when she went to the gym. Why would a sheer blouse be in a musty gym bag? I felt my eyes water but not one god damned tear fell out. Not one. I continued the search-what else was I going to find in her big bag of tricks?
The rough hairs on the back of my neck, right near the hairline began to prickle like popcorn kernels on a hot, greased skillet. The black panties-lace, delicate- became squished in my not so delicate fist. I rammed it up my nostrils and took a whiff inward. I closed my eyes, wondering-imagining how the other man looked. How good he made her feel when he yanked these off her dove smooth skin and desecrated her by ramming his…
“Daddy?” Pooky called out to me.
I opened my eyes to look at the angel we’d created together. I saw Connie in her tiny little face, Pooky wasn’t there anymore. She stared at the panties painfully clenched in my fist. I hadn’t even tried to conceal it. She needed to know that Mommy was a whore.
She pointed accusingly. “Why are Mommy’s panties in your hand?”
Why, sweetheart? Well, Mommy hasn’t been faithful to Daddy. She’s been too busy putting other men’s dicks into her mouth.
She was only six for goodness sakes! What was I thinking?
“Go to your room,” I said instead.
“But I’m not sleepy,” she whined, rubbing her eyes. Just like her jezebel mother, always fuckin’ whining.
“Go to bed,” I ordered slow and controlled.
She started jumping up and down as if she were on a trampoline. “But I don’t wanna’.”
“Go to your fuckin’ room,” I barked. She stopped; her eyes were wide and teary. She sped off like Speedy Gonzalez and slammed the door. This pushed me to the brink. My own daughter hated me. Why? Because her stupid mother couldn’t be monogamous. I stood up and put my hands on my face. I began to weep like a fuckin’ little girl who’d just scraped her knee on the sidewalk. For what? That bitch wasn’t even worth it. All she did was deceive me. Cheat on me. Make me look like a damn fool! My hand quickly progressed into my hair. They clamped on and pulled.
I was transforming into a monster. I had no control over it. It pulsed through my veins like some ruthless serum. It even came out in breath with the carbon dioxide. I wasn’t me anymore. I’d turned into the one with no conscience. No feeling. I balled my fist and smashed it against the mirror. My back was hunched, my heart beat was wild and I was treading on the page of sanity. I raised my work up to eye level. It was bloody of course. A few nasty cuts. I waited for it to throb-hurt even.
It never came.
I heard her jeep pull up into the driveway, I began to laugh uncontrollably. I had no idea what was so funny. I wiped the sweat from my forehead (with the good hand) and held onto my sore stomach with the other. The door downstairs opened. Then closed. I heard her toss her keys on the end table. I calmed myself down and watched the door. She probably would want to know why my hand was bleeding and why glass was everywhere.
“Hey-” she paused, studying the room then going straight to my self-injured hand. She rushed towards me. “What happened? Let me see,” she said grabbing my hand. Aww. She was all worried about little old me.
I needed to do one thing and one thing only. I opened up my arms silently. Reluctantly, she came inside and wrapped her arms around me. It was familiar. Something I kept telling myself not to love. I dug my face into the shoulder of her shirt and in her hair.
Aqua Velva, Axe body spray and…cigarettes.
“Hey.” She struggled. “Your-your hurting me.”
I hadn’t known that I was doing it with all my strength. I was trying to unconsciously squeeze the life out of her for all the turmoil she’d caused me. The fear, shock and pure surprise in her familiar eyes were actually comical. I felt myself smiling.
She managed to get out of my grips and run to the door. My reach was too long; I grabbed the back of her shirt. We both ended up tumbling down to the ground. I landed on top of her. She scratched me. Punched at me even. I bet she didn’t do all of that to her lover, I imagined.
Both my hands crept up to her flimsy neck. They fastened onto it like a snake to its prey. It told me that she’d deserved it. It told me to feel no pain. It told me that she didn’t deserve to live. Her tongue popped out her mouth and her eyes bulged as my thumbs dug deeper into her throat. My lips were dry and pulled over my teeth, my sweat pattered on her face while her struggles became weak and her soul crept halfway from her body.
But I stopped. It was sudden. She gasped. I slid from off the top of her body and sat up against the bed frame. I laid my head back. Silent and thoughtful. After she was done coughing and choking, she cursed me and tried hitting me. I don’t remember much after that. At that point I just wanted it all to stop. I wanted it all to go away. I wanted us to go back to what we were. I wasn’t quite sure if after this I could still believe that any of that was ever true.
