A voice in your ear

Every morning Tina would wake to her routine. She loved everything about this life she has branded. Tina would open her eyes and turn on the phone lying next to her and live stream. At first she did it to help her stick to her regiment, but now she does it to feel like she is important. What Tina doesn’t know is that these are the lies we tell ourselves to give purpose and warm us from isolation.

I am one of Tina’s original followers from birth. Assigned to amuse her, confuse her, and lead her to distract her from her true purpose. It was a lot harder in the old days. I only had magazines and the others around her to work with. Social media, however, drew me in like a moth to the flame. So much potential. So much destruction.

Today Tina is meeting with Frank for the first time. She met him on a live stream. The glow from the screen must have hit them the right way because she is excited. I love meeting new talents of distraction. He doesn’t know how truly special Tina could be in this world. But if I’m being honest, neither does Tina. And that’s what I feed off of.

On the way out the door Tina looks in the mirror. It’s so easy to get feed off of her doubt as she turns around to try something else on. She is going to be late—oh, the stress is filling my soul like a Thanksgiving dinner. She speeds through traffic and I feel like a kid on a roller coaster—I have tingles in all the right spots. Tina and I fight back tears. I suppose hers are outta fear of rejection, whereas mine are not.

Frank has the glow and I don’t yet know if it’s a brother or a cousin. I leave Frank and Tina alone to investigate. Some don’t need to hover like I do. I look around and that’s when I see it. We make eye contact. It looks familiar. I can’t help but say, “Do I know you?” But the smile before the words tells me everything I need to know. It is a cousin—and the last time we met, I was the victor.

Confidence goes into a monologue about meeting again and how this time she is stronger. I really don’t care. I tuned her out as soon as I realized who she was. I have to get my plans for Tina down before I return to her. Confidence is just as greedy as I am and only gives me a speed bump. She may feed off of confidence, but I feed off of pain, and if I plan this right, I will win again.

Just as Confidence gets heightened in emotion, I walk away. I have to smile, since I know in her confusion of me not acknowledging her, she is angry. I may not get to taste it, but I can find the humor in it. I return to Tina—she is smiling. I sense some nearby pollen and lightly blow it under her nose. She holds in her sneeze. Oh, this is working out beautifully. The more she holds it, the better it will be. Tina can hold no more. The build-up is painful. She sneezes—apparently unexpectedly. Oh, the disgust on his face is scrumptious. Tina frantically looks for something to clean off with. The comments on her phone are electrifying.

Frank ruins the moment with a tissue, magically purposed from his pocket. Confidence is smug. It’s time to get Tina home.

In the car I allow Tina to linger in her thoughts. I replay the morning and the sneeze for her to torment herself all the way home. Such a treat for me. I prepare for the next meeting with Frank. I hold off on giving Tina reasons to cancel. Confidence is going to get a lesson on why I am the master. While I plan, I play with Tina’s confidence like a bored child. It’s so easy now. I find myself excited for the challenge I didn’t know I needed.

Tina does a get ready with me video. I love that she needs validation from strangers. Only the surface level receives the emotions from it, since the soul always knows it’s fake, and I get a good chuckle. As Tina looks in the mirror I remind her that her eyebrows are uneven. It’s so simple, but the panic tastes so good. The doorbell rings. There is Frank. He smells so good—like nerves. Ohh that’s a fun twist. Maybe Confidence doesn’t have the hold she thinks she does. Frank hands her flowers. I let Tina know how cheap they are. And… does his breath have a weird smell?

Frank takes us to dinner. Their nerves mixing together is intoxicating. I play the memory of a junior high dance when Tina had food in her teeth and didn’t discover it until she was home. Such a sweet memory. The dinner is busy with people down on their luck. If I knew I would be feasting, I would have prepared myself. I get bored with Frank trying to get to know Tina and I walk around. There is a couple fighting—oh, I could really go for an anger and fear cocktail. It’s delicious. I then find a homeless man, but one of my brothers is with him and scowls at me. I could take him if I wanted to, but there is enough to go around.

I look over at Tina. Shit. They are now sitting next to each other laughing and holding hands. Confidence is also there—not smiling, but watching me. She slowly grins, and now I know she was waiting for me to watch her eat. I appear next to Tina in a blink. To my delight, Frank’s hand is clammy. Tina hates sweat. It is all I allow her to think about—it does the trick. Confidence got a taste of Tina’s potential. It’s time to pivot. While Tina is lost in Frank’s eyes, I direct her hand to nonchalantly take a cheese fry and eat it. After a few more, the grease and cheese make a stew of gas in her stomach. There it is—the fear I am accustomed to. Frank and Confidence begrudgingly take us home.

Tina rushes into the house, leaving Frank confused at the door. As he turns away, I catch Confidence’s eye and give her a winning wave. She acts like she doesn’t see it, but I can pinpoint the anger from a mile away. She didn’t win with Henry and she won’t win with Tina. She just doesn’t realize it yet. The stunt she pulled tonight was cute, but I’ve got plans—and now they include Frank. I might not be able to taste Confidence’s demise, but I can feel its trophy, and it feels good.

Tina and I plan the next date. We choose a movie. I allow her to think he might hold her hand. It wasn’t hard to get her to pick the French movie. Tina always loved the idea of France and looking smart. The truth was Tina didn’t know French, so she didn’t know the movie would make her uncomfortable. Tina doesn’t like when a father dies. It is still raw for her—it’s only been a year, and this movie has a father dying of cancer just like her father, Henry. Plus subtitles—it’s like a brownie sundae of treats, and Confidence is going to lose.

Frank comes to the door with that disgusting era of confidence. I would throw up if I could, but I can already tell Confidence is enjoying the look on my face—and I let her. Sometimes even mice get to have fun. I attend to Tina. She picks the shoes that, although expensive, punch in good spots. We get to the movies, and when Confidence isn’t looking, I convince Frank to get the treats Tina hates. I giggle at her disgust—it tastes better when it comes naturally. Confidence doesn’t know who she is playing with.

The movie goes exactly to plan. By the time the father dies, Tina is a mess. Frank has only known her a month—he doesn’t have the tools yet to put Tina back together. I close my eyes in victory, waiting for the glare of Confidence to hit me. It never does. Instead, I feel a pit in my stomach. In shock, I gasp at the scene unfolding—Confidence is whispering into Frank’s ear. She is cheating by giving him the tools to pick Tina up. I quickly run to Tina’s ear and suggest she go home. The whole way in the car is silence. Maybe Confidence gave a hit, but I am stronger. I remind Tina she isn’t good enough for Frank. Could it be me, or does she not hear me?

I watch Tina over the months, my voice growing quieter in her ear. Then at a BBQ, I see him. He’s awkward and hiding—watching pretty girls laugh in his direction—and he tastes amazing. I lurch around him and learn his name is Tom. Tom is easy to attach to. As we leave the BBQ together, I look back at Tina one last time. Confidence thinks she’s won, and I pity her—for the last time. As Tom and I get in the car, I am giddy and ready for a new game.