The iced tea glass sweats onto my hand and it’s the only thing I feel for a second. My diner goddess slips away from her pig and walks across the floor to grab a handful of napkins. Although my head stays in place, grilled cheese between my teeth, her movement drags my eyes across to where she is standing in the sun. As she turns to go back to her seat, I see a smile on the corner of her mouth and it makes me reach to the side of my leg and stroke the handle of my knife. This nowhere diner is the middle point for me, going from one place to another. This isn’t even supposed to be important to my story, but I can’t help but know what’s about to happen. Like I’d dreamt it hundreds of times but had forgotten each one in waking. I rip a bite away from the sandwich and a thick string of cheese follows. She sits down and watches me use my tongue to rope the cheese in with the rest of the bite while she twirls her finger through her golden hair. Her fucktard notices nothing, face deep in chili. I toss the rest of the sandwich onto the plate and suck my iced tea dry. I pour the ice cubes into my hand, use each one of them across my forehead and cheeks, try to cool down and build the courage to move on, leave this behind. To leave her behind. Knowing I’d be the best thing she’s ever had. It’s at this point the monkey looks from his chili, to her, to me, and I could almost say it with him.
- Now, what the HELL is this?
She breaks eyes with me and looks down at her lap, face bright burning red. But it won’t stop here, the offence has already occurred. Now, the consequences for the crime. I know whats about to happen. He doesn’t. As if he was made to be a man specifically for this reason, for this confrontation. He shoves my beauty onto the dirty floor of this nowhere diner, her body slapping the linoleum as her hands and knees land. He clumsily gets out of the booth, stepping over my diner mistress, who tells her children to cover their ears and eyes, like this is some horror movie. The slimebag marches up to me with an embarrassing amount of confidence and I keep my hand to my side, on my knife, eyes never leaving those of my princess. I slightly shake my head, then my view is blocked by this dogshit. I look up at him in excited anticipation. It has been much too long.
- You dont look at her, fuck-o. You look at me. Now what the hell do you think youre doing. Huh? Tough guy?
- Well. With you standing here, at my table, I think it’s pretty obvious you already know what I think Im doing. In fact, I know I’m doing it.
- I want you to say it, fuck-o.
- I was making eyes with your wife. Obviously you and I have something in common,
we both like her. You may like her too much. Or maybe I do.
- Listen, man, now I dont know where the fuck you crawled out from, but where you are now, it’s considered a pretty stupid thing to go around lookin at a man’s wife.
She slides up off the ground and takes her place in the booth, watching me watching him, not knowing whats about to happen. I never actually paid attention to anyone else eating with me in this nowhere diner, but I imagine now, with the background silence of a lethal injection viewing, that they must all be witnesses. None of them know how it’s going to end. I do.
- Listen, fuck-o, my bitch will get hers when Im done with you. Now I don’t wanna go and mess you up in front of my kids, okay? So why don’t we go outside and deal with this. I got what she needs and I think I got what you need too, tough guy.
- You have more to be angry about than who’s looking at who here. You don’t even know it. Not yet. Maybe never, depends. She not only replaced you with me in her mind as her husband…
- …but in a way that she probably never intended, she brought you to your end.
- Listen man, let’s just go out…
- No, no. You should be listening. By looking at me, by me being caught looking back at her, she brought you into my life. This probably wasnt your fault, you may be designed this way, to take up fights that you stand no chance in…
My hand still at my side, I’m standing at an angle that there’s no way for him to see. He isn’t looking at anything other than my eyes, anyways. I stand three inches taller, a lot of pounds heavier, and with no line drawn anywhere. Anywhere. I step forward again, he doesn’t step back. I know the answer, I do, but I have to ask.
- I want you to say it.
Hes frozen. He still doesnt know. I do.
-Listen, man. It’s just, you know, that’s my wife, and I got a little threatened, but we don’t need to…
-Such a change of pace. Such a change of attitude, isn’t it? Thirty seconds ago, you were itching to get my blood on your hands. You appear now to be trying to keep yours off mine. So. Do you know what’s about to happen?
I hear my angel breathing from the booth. The kids are oblivious. If there’s anyone still in this nowhere diner, they are acting as statues. No vigilantes here. I was perfectly fine eating my sandwich, content even. Almost. Now, this.
In the space between ‘man’ and whatever was going to follow, I swing my right hand out from the side of my leg and slash him across the throat with my blade, cutting halfway into his neck. Soon as my knife pulls away, he drops, leaving his blood floating in the air for a second longer. Nobody can scream because nobody has registered it yet. I knew from the moment I saw her that it would end like this. With a woman like her, it’s always going to end like this. She stares at me in horror, pink mouth wide open, green eyes blurring with tears, a vision of complete perfection. I whip my knife over my head and it cartwheels through the air across this nowhere diner, through the sun, between her kid’s heads, right into the middle of her chest, releasing the scream that was caught in her throat. Red pours over her yellow dress, and I step over its body, my boots tracking its blood right up to its former family. The children stare at me like I’m God or something. She remains sitting in her booth, blade deep inside her body, draining the life away, but never the beauty. How a woman like this ends up with a piece of shit like that may always be a mystery. I place one bloody hand on the table, and my clean hand on her shoulder. Unnecessary, redundant tears stream from her eyes and she stares at me like I’m a devil. She doesn’t understand. I lean in and whisper to her,
-You should have known, about him. You should have reached higher, wished for more. Even now, you’re more special than anyone or anything. Precious.
This is original writing and copyright and all that fine print kind of stuff. Please credit this to Chessterr Hollowberry. Thanks!