Dysphoria

Our Golden retriever Charlie looked at me before he left the front door. His wet nose glistened in the light, and I could see my reflection in his dark brown eyes. 

      "Take care of yourself," Laura told me. I said nothing.

  My daughter Berry held her hand out to me from the front porch.

      "I love you, daddy," she said softly. 

      "I love you too," I replied, "forever and always." Berry glanced up at her mother. 

      "Mama, why are we leaving?" she asked. 

      Mama didn't reply and hastily turned down the front steps, through the gate, and into lover boy's car. It was a nice ride, I had to admit. Charlie barely fit into the backseat with the luggage, and Berry squeezed in next to him. It was amusing to watch a mother leave her husband with the dog and kid in a two-door convertible. I stood on the porch and watched. I was sick. I felt weary and wanted to vomit. Defeated in every meaning of the word. I missed them already, but then I realized there was nothing to miss. The daughter bellowing and the dog howling at the food bowl. I missed her tiny hands and voice, the dog's long hair, and playful movements. 

      I had been communicating with a fascinating woman from down the road. Her name was Valerie, and she was a part-time nurse. She was divorced, so we both had something in common, but it was limited to that. We enjoyed each other's company, and I lauded the idea of having her over for dinner. I rang Valerie's phone, and she leaped at the idea. I have started calling her Val. She was a sucker for love, and I knew it. But anyhow, she was on her way. 

      I cleaned up. I Shaved, picked the nicest polo I had, and scrubbed the bottom of the toilet. Val dreamed of men like me. I hoped anyway. The pasta was boiling, and the sauce was warming. The house smelled of cheap garlic bread and alfredo. I was doing everything right. 

It was about 9:45pm, and I was sitting at the table, drinking red wine and reading a book. There was a knock at the door. 

      I stood up to see who it was. I opened the door and saw Val standing in the doorway, wearing a long black dress and red-bottomed heels. She had an infecting smile and a staggering figure. I looked lazy in jeans with a Denver Broncos polo. Maybe that was why Laura left.

      "You know I like the Raiders, right?" she said.

      I instantly liked her less, but she looked too good to let her go. Val had charisma and good energy. She was a classic American girl who loved family, God, and the Red, White, and Blue. 

       "Have you written anything today?" she asked.

       "Nothing at all."

       "You should write me something," she said, twirling pasta in her fork. 

       "Maybe after dinner," I replied, "I am not feeling it today."

       We continued talking and talking about menial things, but I liked talking to her. She described her sisters, how they had all left when she was young, and how her father was abusive and the same with her mother. She sounded like a sad spirit, but she could act happy, and that was good enough for me. 

      "Can you write something now?" she asked.

       "Not now," I replied. 

       "Oh, c'mon, stop being such a bastard," she said cunningly.

       "Laura left with the kid and dog today," I blurted. 

       Val fell back into her chair and gazed blankly at the garlic bread. 

       "For good?" she asked. 

       "For good," I said.  

       There was silence for a couple of minutes. 

       "I'm sorry, maybe I should go," she whispered, throwing the napkin on her plate. 

       "Please don't," I said. 

       "It's okay. I really should be going,"

       She pushed out, leaped up from her chair, and grabbed her purse. She darted towards the front door. 

       "What if I write you something?" I yelled. 

       I heard her heels tap backward, and I saw her body come back into frame. Her face was more relaxed, but she stared at me through squinty eyes, biting the corner of her lip. I looked back at her. 

       "You're a clever boy," she said. 

       I nodded and took a bite of garlic bread. 

       I walked her over to the typewriter, and we sat and listened to my tapping for what seemed like an hour. I wrote her some poems and started a new story about her. She was floored. It was fun, but I began to get bored. 

      "Why do you like me?" she questioned.

      "Who said I did?" 

       I could tell it puzzled her brain. 

      "Want to go out on the porch?" I asked.

      "Of course"

       Next thing, we were up in the treetops touching cosmic satellites, laughing and laughing and joking to sad truths and fun facts about nothing. I fell in love prematurely, and the mask of confidence began to wear off. She made me feel like a good man when she knew I wasn't. Watching how she hit a cigarette and how her inhalation glowed the end of it bright red like a Chinese lantern, sparked me. Her finger placement was perfect, and the smoke flowed easily from her lips. Her eyes fixed on the backyard, but she knew I was staring at her. 

      "What do you plan to do now?" she asked. 

      "Same as always," I replied.

      "Can you see your daughter?"

      "Every Summer," I muttered.

      "Oh."

      That was it about my daughter. I missed Berry with everything I had, but it was no use. She would begin to like her rich stepfather, and eventually, she could see the man I was. So it goes. 

      The trees draped over the deck as we stood talking for a while longer. She asked me what my dreams were, and I told her I wanted to live in Europe and travel. Even if I was poor. 

      "Why would you want to be poor?" she said.

       "I don't want to be poor. I just don't care if I am." 

       "Can we be poor together?"

       "Perhaps," I replied. 

       We were up in bed now, and I was staring at the popcorn ceiling. I hated it all. Why was I in bed with Val? Why anything at all? I thought about Berry and Charlie and then Laura. What were they doing? For several months I have felt it all fall slowly. Too slow, I prefer life to be like a band-aid. Now, I lay here. What value do I have? I wanted to leave forever. Move to Europe and travel. Look for odd jobs and people in a new place. I was limited on hope and abused all relationships I had. Val didn't deserve me. She was too bland, boring, and artificial. I didn't deserve her either. I was too caught up, too unique, too fearful, too careless, and too obsessed. 

       I reached for my phone and began to search for plane tickets. I found the cheapest Dublin ticket and booked the flight two days from now. I crept out of bed and began packing a short list of items for my trip. I left all pictures, memories, and possessions and packed only what I needed. 

       After packing into the dawn hours of the day, I sat down to write a note before I walked out.

       Val,

          I do love you. If you believe me, anyways. I must go though, after all, you wouldn't make me happy, and I couldn't make you happy. I can no longer abandon my soul. I would rather be alone with it. Thank you for it all. The late nights. The cheap wine and cigarettes. The laughs, the shitty movies. Maybe I will be back one day. I'll make sure to tell you if I am. All the love I can give, I have given you. Please don't hate me for this.

      Love, 

             Joey

      I left her in my wife's bed and house and hailed a taxi to the airport. The airport was slow and hollow, and the businesses and restaurants were far from open. It was close to me. My new life. Soon it would be here. 

6 Months Later

       It was a lazy day, and I was laid up in a bed in Venetia. Today, I heard Marco Polo was born here. I was living with an Italian blonde. She was innocent and subtle but exciting, nonetheless. She brought me mail from the woman named Val, someone from a life I had forgotten. It was a letter. I let it set in the sun before opening it. I would let the Gods advise me first. 

       My temptation brutalized me, and I shredded it open at once. 

        Joey,

             I hope Europe or whatever broad you are shacked up with are treating you well. I am mad at you, but I lust too much to hate you. I'm back with my husband, but please tell me when you return. I'll run away with you next time, forever. 

      I love you,

               Val

       My eyes begin to flood with tears. I folded the letter nicely into a little square and walked onto the third-floor balcony. I looked at the sun on the horizon, floating in the distant seawater. I watched the girls play volleyball on the beach, and the tears began to fade away. I held the little square and dropped it over the edge. I watched as the wind carried it to a place where I would never see it again.

-Caleb Weingarten