She Loves Me Now

by Rashod Berkley

“It wasn’t going to work any longer. It was lucid; pressed flat against my face. On BART I would hand her one of my earphones. She would flinch. I remember when songs reached their peak, and I would inhale deeply and my chest would burst like a pigeon, and my lower jaw would sink just slightly with a little spit that would slip out. And I would look over and could see her spouted chest and drool, but never did her eyes confirm to mine the immensity of the song. It was like it wasn’t even us and the music anymore; I was watching the music and her. I would make dinner, and I always set the table nicely for us. She never came down to have dinner with me; she just came down because she was hungry. The sex was good, but when she closed her eyes I just knew someone else was there; some guy’s image pasted to the inside of her eyelid. I cut the other one off.

“It puzzles me to why she burned the house down. My stomach gets upset, like there’s a glut of salty ocean water inside me, just resting. I never saw such a vivid scorch of a flame, or such the violent bubbling of darkening flesh. He should’ve saved her, and that’s why I’m here, with her, quiet with the night.

“God had cried down on us, and he was soaked, carrying the Beck’s from Berkeley Bowl down to the station. I peered from the adjacent lot, standing with my lower lip trembling like a stutter. It’s interesting how with distance, the barriers of ones privacy become weaker. He didn’t even feel the pulsing discomfort of a stare. He made his footprints and I was there to layer them. I remember getting closer to him as he waited to cross Ashby. I just stared, lurking underneath the awning of the corner store. His conscience told him I was there, but I know he ignored it. He looked left, but we both knew there was nothing there. His peripheral vision failed. Then he looked down at his Beck’s in the paper bag, trying to exude his bogus obliviousness. We both knew. When the light changed you could see the hop in his first step, the anxiety that sprung him up. I chuckled a little. It was amusing watching this guy trying to hold himself back from walking too fast. I knew he wanted to run; he didn’t have to pretend everything was normal. He didn’t even wait anymore for the cars at the corners. You should have seen his lips fumble over his apologies and how his hand was fidgety when he waved them off- still trying to look toward his left. I just kept layering and layering. I remember approaching the station- my pigeon chest and my wet lips. My walk evolved to a trot. Now he could feel my stare tickling his neck.”

…

“Shit, I don’t even know how to start. I mean, I’m walking back to the station in the rain, just got a couple of beers from the Berkeley Bowl, and the thing is, I knew there was someone following me, but I wasn’t exactly sure at the moment.”

“But you were saying that you recognized the person?”

“Yeah, I had just saved the bastard a couple nights before. I remember he kept telling me ‘save her, save her’, but I couldn’t. The roof she was under kept screeching, and I just knew at any moment it was going to cave in. It’s against policy to engage in a task that threatens our life,” he paused.

“Then what happened.”

“I don’t know. I saved him. But it was weird. I remember running upstairs to save them, squishing all the mice that had escaped from the attic. The photos hanging in the hall left a sick taste at the back of my tongue. He had all these portraits of him and I guess his wife. She had a little something scary going on with one of her eyes; like in one she was wide awake and in the other she was normal,” he pauses again, “And her smile; it seemed unnatural- forced or something. I mean her lips spread just like a smile, but in her eyes you could see the frown. I never did fully see her by the way. The dense clouds of smoke really sunk low and only revealed her scarred legs and bare feet in the room ahead.”

“So they were in different rooms?”

“Yeah, he was in the bathroom which was closer to me, and she was in what looked like just another bedroom.”

“Alright, so what else happened?”

“So I’m coming to save this guy, and everything is happening so fast and frantic, and uh… I finally get up to him, and he snaps his neck back at me and looks at me with these wide blue eyes like he’s seen a demon or something, and I pause because I’ve never had that reaction before.”

“Was he surprised to see you?”

“I mean, I hope not. My job is to save peoples lives, you know.”

“So then what happens?”

“So then I’m kind of hesitant, but I grab him and he starts to yell ‘save her’ and I’m like ‘I can’t, the roof is about to cave in’, you know,” he pauses again.

“Go ahead.”

“And she was so calm it seemed. She didn’t speak a word.”

“She’s the one who started the fire, right?”

“Yeah, at least that’s what he said. I remember carrying him down on my shoulders, and behind us you could hear the crackle and sizzle of her flesh. My ears seemed so sensitive to the sound,” he exhales deeply.

“Tell me more about the night he followed you.”

“Yeah, so I’m coming back from Berkeley Bowl, Thursdays are my days for getting the beer, and I decided to walk; it’s better for my thinking. I just had the image of this girl’s lower body stuck in my head. For some reason, when I was in the hall, it wasn’t the roof really that prevented me from rescuing her though- it was more the thought of me having to look her in the eye while saving her.”

“So was it possible to save her?”

“No, no, no. It was nearly impossible,” he looked left.

“Okay,” he nods.

“But anyways. So I’m walking back, and I get to the Ashby light. As I’m waiting at the light, for some reason I feel this discomfort and I feel it rising against my back like some one’s there watching me. I look over to the left to see if I could see someone from the corner of my eye, but my vision’s not the best. I get kind of nervous but I try to play it cool. I hear his feet slap against the puddles behind me faster and faster and that’s when it hit me. I could feel his presence getting closer to the back of my neck. I drop the beers, grab my pocket knife, and turn around, and there he was with his wide blue eyes, lunging- right on the blade. I caught him and his lips fell against my ear. His last words were ‘why won’t she love me’, and we both fell over,” he stops.

“Alright, well, it seems that this session is over. Um, I’ll see you… next Wednesday for our next meeting. Ms. Clemmons at the front desk will give you the hour sheet to sign off.”

…

“She loves me now.”