Mar 13, 2009 16:16
She said she hated him. Secretly, she still loved him. I can’t really blame her. “He always stays out late.” I nod, in silent agreement. A sudden breeze blows in. “Did I do something wrong?” “No Margaret, no, you didn’t.” It’s difficult loosing your husband. His name had been Walter. He had become a coypu. It had happened quite suddenly. We called him Charles now. Charles: The stupid, stupid coypu. She quietly begins to weep. I quietly begin to weep. We hold each other, quietly. Charles, you fucking, selfish bastard. He had eaten the plants. Just then, Charles returns home. His coarse, brown hair glistens. “Hey guys, how’s it goin’?” Her sobs become more pronounced. “The plants are all gone!”
Walter was my college roommate. Walter was my best friend. I could tell Walter anything. Walter could tell me anything. I wonder who Charles is. Can I trust this Charles? Can this Charles trust me? No, Charles cannot trust me. Charles stole my best friend. Charles ate all the plants. We will not share secrets. We will not go partying. We will not swap high-fives. We will not have sleepovers. We will not make forts. Walter and I did that.
“Are you guys feeling alright? Am I missing something here?” Charles takes a step forward. Suddenly, she stops her crying. She has reached her conclusion. “You’ve always been missing something. Maybe you should just go.” At first he doesn’t leave. Eventually, he leaves, disgruntled, confused. In time, the plants re-grew. We never saw Charles again. Unfortunately, Walter never returned either.
prose