Threat

“Another bouquet for Marcia.”

I just walked into the store and greeted Michael, and that was his response; he didn’t even turn to look at me – he just continued to water the chrysanthemums.

“What makes you think that I am? I could just be visiting you.”
“You only visit me when it’s later in my shift. Marcia is at work at this time and you want to make sure that things at home are perfect when she comes back.”

“Why do you know all of this stuff…?”
He finally stopped what he was doing and turned to face me.

“At this point, you shouldn’t be asking me that question.”

I bit down on my lip – this is becoming a bad habit.

“…What’s wrong, Micah?”
“You shouldn’t be asking me that either.”

I grit my teeth.

“Well I don’t know every fucking answer to your questions, Michael! I can’t fucking read your mind, damn it!”

He walked towards the register without a reaction of any kind, causing me to instantly regret mine.

“…I-I’m sorry…”
“No, you’re right. You can’t read my mind or get a simple insight of what I feel. All of this would have been so much easier if you could…”

“What do you mean ‘all of this’?”
“Nothing. What are you getting her?”

“I heard that red carnations symbolize a deep love for someone.”
“I’ll go check to see if we have any.”

And he was quickly out of sight.

I leant against the countertop, glancing at a couple of crumbled-up sheets of paper and small Christmas card with a pen lying next to it.

It’s only November…

I dismissed it as soon as he came back, one red carnation in hand.

“Sorry, it’s the only one we had left.”
“It’s beautiful, regardless.”

I smiled.
He didn’t return it.

No more words were passed between us as I paid for the flower.
However, I hugged him, regardless of how upset he was, before leaving.

“…Be careful, Tyler…”

| x | x | x |

‘Be careful, Tyler.’

No matter how many times Michael says that, it seems like I never listen to him.

A trashed kitchen and a broken picture frame.

Sore arms and a throbbing pain in my cheek.
Aching ribs and stomach.
Cuts from broken glass – a piece still remained in my wrist.

Marcia had another fit, and I couldn’t help her calm down.

She locked herself in the bedroom.
An hour had passed, but I didn’t move from my spot on the floor in the corner of the kitchen.

It wouldn’t do much good to move anyway with the amount of glass shards lying around.

That was the least of my thoughts.

What did I do wrong?
Why couldn’t I help her?

Why am I so useless…?

I pulled my knees to my chest, crying into them.

A broken wine glass on the floor.

Yelling.

Fists.

The floor.

More fists.

More wine glasses shattering.

…Pain.

I couldn’t even remember clearly what had happened.

“Tyler…?”

Marcia.

“Don’t come in here…it’s dangerous.”

The sound of glass being crushed followed by a loud hiss in pain.

“Marcia, stop…! You’re hurting yourself…!”

She didn’t stop walking through the glass until she was in front of me, kneeling down before placing her hands on my cheeks.

She was examining and prodding at my face and my arms, tears welling up in her eyes.

“I’m sorry…! Baby boy, I’m so sorry…!”
“Don’t apologize…it’s my fault. You were mad at me, and I couldn’t even help calm you down…”

She looked around the room before looking back at the damage done to me.

“Do…Do you still love me…?”
“I still do, Marcia. I promise.”

And that was it.

We cleaned up the kitchen and mended each other’s injuries before heading into the bedroom.
We kissed and made up, and she fell asleep, curled up at my side.

I’ll do better next time.

I’ll keep you calm and make sure that you’re happy.

I won’t let you die.