INTERNAL DEMONS

I knew today was going to be a bad day when I stepped in my cat’s vomit first thing in the morning and got my socks soaked. Great I thought, just freaking great. It had been three months since my wife, Charlette, left me for some foreign girl. Eight good years, just poof. And today, I was running late because of messes all throughout my tiny apartment. You see, it was the day of a big interview for a new therapy job in the city.

I stepped out of my apartment and immediately groaned. If I wasn’t running late, I thought, I would run inside and put this suit in a bag so I could change on the way. It had rained last night, and in Texas, that means that today the air would be so think you’d think you were walking through syrup. I trudged along for a few blocks until I sighed, pulled out my phone, and called an Uber. Within five minutes, I was zipping the remaining quarter mile to the tower.

As I reached the tower where the main company, Vizion, were set up, I saw a car parked in the garage across the street that looked exactly like Charlette’s. Dear God, if there is a God, please don’t let this be hers I think to myself. Unfortunately, God has a sick sense of humor, for as I rushed into the elevator I saw her standing in the corner. Fuck fuck fuck fuck I think, I really don’t need this today. I sigh a deep breath and say “Hey, fancy seeing you here.”

Screeeeeeeeee

Suddenly the elevator shutters and stops.

“Well, that’s just great isn’t it?” she says to me.

“Hey, it’s not all sunshine and rainbows over here,” I retort as I repeatedly push the emergency button. “I’ve got a huge interview here today, and the last thing I wanted to ever see was you.”

“What? You have an interview here today?” she says to me.

“Well yeah. Why else would I be here?” I say back.

“I have an interview here today too,” she responds.

“With Vizion?”

“Yep.”

“Well, isn’t that just fate. I finally start to move on and now we might end up working together,” I say with a sigh. I felt my face getting warm as I knew by now how these conversations go.

“Look, it’s not my fault you took it so hard. I was as honest as I could be,” she says.

“Yeah, because finding out your wife of eight years suddenly likes girls is just supposed to be something I let roll off,” I say through a very fake laugh.

“Now that’s not fair.”
“Totally fair! You moved on before I even had a chance to know. You then shrugged off every concern or question I had. You made me feel so small and didn’t even care.”

“You make it sound like I never loved you!” she screams out.

“Because of the way you left!” I scream back, fully sweating through my suit. “When you care for someone, you don’t do that!”

“I still care for you!! I still love you! I just don’t love you like…. that anymore,” she almost whispers it by the end.

“Because that’s so much better for me?!” I scream back. “If you changed your mind tomorrow, I would take you back!! That’s the hardest part! I miss you and think about you every. single. day. But the worst part is that it’ll never happen,” I say through tears. “I mean, look at me! I’m here falling apart and you’re stone-cold, just like always. We’re therapists and can’t even fix our own problems. Isn’t that ironic?” I say through sobs.

I see her start to cry. “I never meant to hurt you. I truly didn’t. These things happen, and I sincerely am sorry. I don’t want us to be enemies, especially if we both get jobs here. I know the actions I took will make it hard to be friends, but please don’t let us be enemies.”

I touch her shoulder. “I could never be mean to you. It’s not in my nature. I just want you back and I know it’s not possible. I guess working together will have to be enough.” I crack a half-smile and step back. “Now, let us both kick ass at these interviews. If this stupid thing ever starts back up that is.”

As if on cue, the elevator doors get pried open. Two firefighters pulled us out and we took the stairs up the next couple of floors to our interview.

Three months later, I saw her at the company picnic and my heart dropped. It’s been almost a year, you idiot! I think to myself. Of course she’s fine now. I waved and threw on a half-assed smile. I turned around and continued on with the event. I pretended to have fun for a while, before eventually walking off in any direction away from there. I knew deep down that one day, I may be fine. That one day I would wake up and not think about how much I missed her and our life together. But today, today was not that day. The tears started to erupt like mini volcanoes in my eyes. I sat down on a bench a little way away from the picnic, where I couldn’t be seen. I sat there until the night rolled in.

Even in the darkness, I still can see due to the lights everywhere. I wipe my tears away and take a deep breath before walking off into the night. I am still alive, but only in the fact that my breath still happens, and my blood still pumps. I know this time will pass, but today is not the day that happens. For now, I trudge forward, hoping to one day capture the elusive life.

Trueman Satterwhite is 27 years old and he has been writing creatively for about 12 years. He won two rewards in high school for the state writing competitions and now he’s looking to pursue it professionally.