All Wrapped Up
One of the torn tabs of perforated paper floated across the sidewalk like tumbleweed. It was swept onto the road, only to meet a set of tenacious tires stamping it into the pot-holed road. The streets of the city sported bumper to bumper vehicles rushing impetuously to drugstores for valentines. An aggravating cloud of love always seeped through the city like eternal fog in the month of February. She desired his company. It wasn’t what she really wanted, but he was better than nothing. However, it was hopeless. No one paid attentions to missing signs. She continued to staple the sheets of paper with her Beloved plastered upon the page accompanied with seven big bold numbers. His face reflected off the paper directly into her eyes; it was as if this picture was his mug shot and she was warning the neighborhoods to avoid this violent male.
It had already been six days since his last appearance. It wasn’t out of the ordinary for him to leave the house and not return for even a week, but this time there were no visits from his dead friends or the loud vocals he would shriek throughout the city, reassuring her that he was nearby.
The sun slowly trickled into the horizon, leaving a rosy aura around downtown. At the midst of her walk home, she recalled a time where her Beloved came to the door, drunk with lack of sleep and near starvation after his eight day escapade. His hair was disheveled and his ribcage seemed more apparent than ever. He smelled of cheap perfume and cigarettes, though he wasn’t a smoker. It was these moments when she feared he was fooling around with some other woman, begging for her hands and the soft touch that a woman provides. Denying the paranoia that crept into her psyche, she took him again. As usual, he picked up another lifeless friend who he expected her to mother. It was hard enough pampering one irritant who acted as if he owned the household so she routinely escorted his friends onto the street for traffic to stumble upon.
Sipping her chamomile, the young woman gained full consciousness of how lonely she was. Her eating and sleeping habits were dissipating by the second.
No calls had been received regarding her Beloved. No calls from her Beloved.
The afternoon sun was glowing. She eyed her coat and scarf and could not resist going outside into the busy streets, posting more disobliging signs. The voice inside her head urged her to contact the police, but why would they care about a girl’s problem when they had murders and thefts to exacerbate their forehead worry lines? Maybe if they knew how many deaths her Beloved was responsible for, circumstances may be different, but she didn’t have the heart to turn him in. Without that bit of knowledge, the police had no concern for him. They wouldn’t consider her Beloved missing.
Afternoons in the city were the most cherished times of the day. They consisted of couples strolling in the park hand in hand, looking at each other with doe eyes, and stopping at the occasional eating booth. She was just gray matter in the colorful world of love, going about her own business. People gave her odd looks as she posted the signs of her Beloved. Why wouldn’t she rightfully advertise the missing whereabouts of her love? It didn’t seem fair. Of course, no one knew the relationship she had with him. They were too thick headed in their own cloud of love to see anything past bliss and happiness. She laughed at their naivety. Love wasn’t just pure delight. It was surrounded by misery and sacrifices. Never before had she hated and treasured the concept of love so deeply. Her Beloved had changed her entire perspective.
Lost in the translation of the matter, the woman stumbled upon a shelter. She didn’t think he would get himself mixed with such vagabonds, but she was desperate for success in finding him. Depression overtook her as she stepped into the territory of the homeless. Their zombie-like statures were basically rags with toothless grins, roaming the shelter and begging for change or some soup.
A man with massive dreadlocks stopped her and held his shaky palm out, “Please miss, do you have any extra cash on you?”
“I’m sorry; I’m a little preoccupied at the moment. I don’t have any change,” she lied. She had twenty dollars stashed in her pocket, but if she aided him, bums would come flocking towards her like pigeons in a park.
As she furthered herself down the alley, in the corner of her eye she saw a cat scurry across the street. Her Beloved always hated cats. Several months ago, she contemplated adopting one from the animal shelter, but he put up a fight in order to dissuade her.
It was those stupid flashbacks that sickened her. Why did she care so much for a creature who just abandoned her whenever he pleased? He obviously didn’t need her as much as she needed him. Though…she actually didn’t mind being alone. Cooking for only one made it much easier on the grocery bill and quite frankly, her pad wasn’t as much of a mess as it was when he had lived there.
At that moment, depression veered to anger. Here this woman was tripping over lowlife, vile individuals who pathetically threw away their lives and didn’t possess enough initiative to improve their living substance. Even if her Beloved was piled somewhere inside the blob of hobos, she could have cared less. It was his choice to leave, and she obviously didn’t represent herself enough as a caring person who loved him. Instantly, she left the homeless and returned home.
Her eyes sunk in their sockets. The apartment was in shackles and open tea packets were scattered across the counter. She was kidding herself. She hadn’t been eating or cleaning, so why did she say life without him was easier? God, she missed him. His independence had gotten the best of him and that was what drove her mad the most. She could never hate her Beloved no matter how badly she wanted to.
The clock struck two o’clock am, and she eventually brought herself to bed. Sleep was an old friend she hadn’t encountered in a few days. The moon percolated through the blinds and formed horizontal lines onto the wall, causing distractions as she tried to reach her dream fantasies.
There was an imbalance of the bed. He always slept to her left, drooling and wheezing in his light sleep. Perhaps if she slept in the middle, she could find a comfortable position and catch a few z’s.
A rainy Valentine’s Day welcomed her the next morning. That feeling of gushy love surrounded her presence as she wandered about the house, trying to clean up a bit. A muffled engine resonance trailed down the street, pausing frequently for the mailman to distribute personal mail. There was something about mail that would forever excite the young woman. She often ordered clothes off catalogues and would receive her magazine subscriptions. Having gained enough energy to go down the steps of her apartment stoop, she unclasped the mailbox and found a gift wrapped box. The box’s lid depicted calligraphic designs and the words: ‘From your Beloved.’
The beating heart enclosed in her chest sank. Suddenly the world seemed brighter and love was a nearby neighbor, showering its goodness around her. Trumpets blasted their upbeat tunes, birds chirped, and confetti sprinkled itself onto the streets. Dark clouds had shifted their positions, revealing a gleaming sun. She briefly took in the imaginary setting and swerved back into the reality.
It was still drizzling. The rain was the only audible sound and the only object sprinkling onto the ground. All of the birds were hidden inside the twisting branches of trees and the heavy clouds owned the sky. Her fingers slowly slipped themselves under the lid and exposed the contents of the present.
She choked on her own breath.
The world stopped as the lifeless doll eyes of her Beloved glared at her. His severed head lay limply inside the box. In the space where his tongue should’ve been, there was a note wrapped in his plucked whiskers. His fur was mangled and heavily coated with blood. Every emotion possible rushed through the woman’s mind. Her precious dog had been tortured and decapitated as some sort of sick joke.
Sadness overwhelmed her. Her knees crashed to the ground as her sobs reverberated throughout the city. Pathetically she tried to bring herself up, but her weak bones lacked the strength. She lied on the sidewalk, absorbing the rain and her atmosphere. Who would do such a thing? Who was sick and twisted enough to commit such a horrendous deed?
She would never have his company ever again! No more making him special dinners, no more dead animals in his mouth, no more vacuuming all of his fur!
No more vacuuming all of his fur.
God, she hated his horrible shedding habits. Ha! She could actually buy black clothes again! Lord knows how his white fur just plastered itself onto all of her wardrobe. Maybe she could actually date again! He always snarled at men who came into the apartment, in fear that they would steal her away from him.
Yet who was the one always abandoning the other? Him! That’s right, him! He deserved this hellish death because he simply was just a stupid dog.
She paused her mind from continuing to process these mixed feelings and found herself right back to the beginning. Her Beloved was gone. His last hours must have been filled with brutally painful agony. Had she kept all the windows down and locked, he wouldn’t have escaped!
She stopped again, remembering the message enfolded in his mouth. Without hesitation, she ripped his lips open and dug her fingers inside to grasp the note:
‘Your old Beloved wasn’t good enough to you, leaving you alone on Valentine’s Day. But I, your new Beloved, will never abandon you because you are my Beloved. Happy Valentine’s Day, sweetheart.’
It would be expected for that note to come off as insanely creepy and psychotic, however, a tiny smile appeared in the cracks of the woman’s mouth.
“I now have two Beloveds,” whispered the ill-headed woman.
Mail never failed to please her.
