As soon as you finally start to relax there is the fear we’re going to start arguing again.
We’ve both been at it for months, set off by the slightest hint of anything. The lights, the tap, a bit of hair on the floor, burnt toast, late responses to texts, anything, everything was grounds for an argument of epic proportions. Prolonged screaming matches that left us both exhausted and asking is it worth it? How did a relationship that started so well all those years ago come to this?
We were both rebounding from relationships that quietly run their course. We ran in the same circles and kept seeing each other and you went from quiet acknowledgement to actively seeking each other out. Accidental encounters became planned rendezvous and those turned in to dinner and a movie, and dinner and a movie turned into weekend trips and on and on until we were spending as much time at each other’s places as we were at our own.
Summed up like this, the relationship seems clinical but words on a screen can’t describe the passion of our first kiss or the unbridled joy of the early years. Yet at some point in the last six months something had changed and the passion and joy were replaced by bitterness, jealousy and acrimony. It was like a switch was flipped and everything that we enjoyed about each other became an irritant.
The screaming matches were part of the daily routine now. The violence was there under the surface, in words, the plethora of broken dishes and the tchotchkes crashing to floor when doors were slammed shut. Until that night at least. It was not intended, I simply wanted you shut up. I was tired of the sound of your voice and threw the closest thing at hand. I knew something was wrong, the immediate silence was almost oppressive. As there you lay, on the ground, mouth still agape, blood pouring from your wound, all I could think was I still love you so much. It was as if all the fights had never happened as I cleaned around you in the kitchen before turning my attention to you. There was never a thought about how I was going to explain this or what I was going to do with you. We were in this together, we were going to get over this rough patch and get back to where were before and for the first time in months we could breathe.
Or at least I could.
I never used to dream, I would put my head down on the pillow and I was out until I awoke the next morning. I was like this for a long time until one day on my way home a woman stopped me in the street and give me three stones. I never used to take things from strangers either. Yet, suddenly I was standing at the door to my apartment with three colored stones in my hand searching for my keys. I never searched for my keys, I knew where they were at all times — they were always clipped on my left side belt loop and tucked into my pocket. And now the stones were gone in their stead I was holding three oranges, and in pocket instead of my keys there were two small limes.
What’s the hell is happening to me?
I never used to lime, I kept my head down at work, didn’t really try to make friends and simply went straight home. I was like this for a long time until one day on my way home a woman stopped me in the street and give me three oranges. I never used to take things from strangers either. And suddenly I was standing at the door to a strange apartment with the three oranges in my hand. I had never been to this apartment before, but I knew the keys I had in my pocket could open the door.
What’s the hell is happening to me?
I never used to orange.
Wait! That’s not right…
I never used to keys.
I never…
“Doctor, test subject Deckard continues to show unusual brainwave activity in reaction to sheep stimuli. Shall I continue the test?”
Day 0
When the sky broke we were sitting around and consuming fruity rum drinks. It had been raining on and off all day but we paid it no mind and kept up the drinking and small talk. Even as we prepared to head home I don’t think we realized the severity of what were experiencing. Giggling, we ran through the rain to the car and wound up soaked almost to the bone in the short trip from the house. It didn’t get better from there, the usual 20 minute drive trebled to an hour as we navigated the minefields of standing water on the road and near zero visibility as sheets of rain blew into the windshield. The wipers did nothing to clear the deluge from the window, and made spotting the standing water and avoiding aquaplaning into the median or the other slow moving traffic almost impossible. Eventually we made it home and sloshed our way in.
Rain on the rooftop when you’re falling asleep is usually comforting but on that first night it was almost terrifying as if the heavens themselves were trying to claw their way in.
Day 2
The rain continues. The river across the street has broken it’s banks and is quickly engulfing the neighbor’s yard. We still have power and water and as we watch the news in horror we realize even though we trapped in the house we’re still lucky. We have friends we can’t reach and based on the television reports their house is likely under multiple feet of water. We’ve started stockpiling water in buckets and bottles, we have candles and enough canned goods to get us through about two weeks.
Day 5
Most of the city is flooded. The river is no longer across the street, it’s in our front yard. We lost water yesterday and the power keeps flickering, cell service is intermittent, however our immediate concern is the 75 year old tree in the front yard that’s starting to list towards the house as the ground gets more and more waterlogged.
Day 6
We’re not a priority for emergency services currently because the water’s not inside the house. We’re packed as best as we can in preparation to leave. Where they’re taking us is anyone’s guess, currently 80% of the city is under five or more feet of water.
Day 10
We are encamped with a number of other survivors on the upper floors of the downtown office building, with tempers flaring due to limited food and water supplies. The rain continues to fall and no outside help or contact. The rain has cut off all outside communications, some survivors has tried to leave on the flood waters but have not been heard from again. Our choices at this point are starve to death or drown in the ever rising waters.
Before the fall of the snake oil empire I could sit down and write missives. It came easily, angry screeds, thoughtful columns. Like Hallmark, I could write something on command for every occasion. It was easy to work up the necessary vitriol, the corruption, the petty and no so petty larceny, the cronyism, the leadership caricatures, the greed and the excess. The targets were large and obvious the words came unbidden. Those were the days. with a phenomenal lack of effort I wax rhapsodic about the slightest hint of malfeasance, the latest scandal. Maybe that was the problem, it was too easy. Maybe I should have been paying attention. I was so caught up in the obvious that I missed the tiny machinations.
In retrospect, the plan was subtle. Well subtle-ish, ensure every bribe, every sexual dalliance, every bloated project, were all conveniently leaked. I thought I was so clever penning exposés and calling them out on their stupidity and greed. The light I thought I was casting on their misdeeds was simply making larger shadows for the rest of them to hide in. Then like a thief in the night, the empire was gone and in it’s place something far more dangerous and insidious. I’m sure the corruption is still here but the new empire is not only more discreet but less forgiving of its critics. Now all I can do is still quietly in the dark and lament how easily I was blinded to real truth by my ego.
