Die, My Love (Dark Creature)

DML: Chapter Three: Reality Bites, Huh?

I’m back at the cinema in my usual seat after doing everything I usually do. I bought my popcorn and Pepsi and I’m sitting in the middle seat in the middle row. But He is not here, and the black and white lion is roaring on the screen. Nothing. I scan the rows again as my breathing speeds up.

He is not going to show, is he Lee?

Damn the man. Stubborn and stupid, and if he were here I would tell him so. My eyes close briefly as my grip on the paper snack bag tightens. He would not dare disappear forever…. would he? Suddenly, I’m not certain and everything collapses into a void. Is it possible he heard my thoughts earlier? That he was able to experience the mind numbing panic and fear that had overcome me whilst I painted his true likeness. Oh, how that must have burned him. To hear me terrify myself over what he is and what his affection means.

Yes, but think it through, Lee. If he did he would have also heard you condemn your self, your very soul, to be with him.

So … then he is not here for another reason … a selfless one?

For the love of all that is holy, how could he consider doing this! I’ve no doubt if he wants he can disappear for the rest of my life, vanish without a trace, and I will be left crazed with wanting, and loneliness, until the day it all gets too much and I fade away.

My iPhone buzzes against my hip. I crack an eyelid as Marilyn’s platinum curls bounce onto the screen. The phone taps a dance on my hip again. Aha. Maybe he has my number? With a shaking hand, I take out the phone and slide the screen lock with my thumb. The slick screen lights up with my face. A text message from Bethany. It eases the disappointment of it not being … oh, I don’t know, an unknown number that would send me his voice?

Suitably pissed off, I ditch the snacks and leave the cinema, my eyes scanning every row as I go though I know it’s useless. If he’s here I would know it. Wouldn’t I? Well, when he came to my home I felt his presence, so it should make no difference in the world.

Outside it’s all ozone, crowded cobbled walkways, and overfilled pubs with names like Drummonds and O’Neil’s.

I hail a black cab, one of the nice old ones that trundle, and slide in, mumbling the name of the nightclub Bethany instructs me to attend at the penny sized holes in the Plexiglas partition. The brash sounds of London Town are muted as I slide the door closed. It smells like stale coffee and vanilla air freshener. A nod of my cabbie’s purple turban, a click on the payment meter, and we are on our way.

My knees knock together as I fist my hands in my pockets, and stare at my boots, wanting to cry at how miserable I feel.

Wait, what was that Lee?

I turn in the faux leather seat, no hesitation this time to peer out the half moon back window. My breath catches, my heart soars, and suddenly everything is okay again. That figure in the shadows is Him. A smile curves the corner of my mouth when said shadow darts from one corner of the street, passing our cab to wait in the corner at the end of the road. Joyous, I bite back a cry of happiness and settle back in my seat. This continues all the way to the club. He follows me, and I resist jumping out the door to throw myself at him.

We arrive. The cab chugs stationary as I launch myself out the door like a rocket and breathlessly ask, “Receipt for ten, please?” The meter shows four pounds eighty five, but that is how happy I am. I pay the man, all smiles, and good humor now. I bob my head to the small picture of a chubby baby tucked into his sun visor wishing him and his family good health before trotting away.

At this point I’m motivated to ignore the shadow at the end of the road. Not because I want to, but because I’m female, and I have to draw the line. I’m suddenly (and inexplicably) fuming walking from curb to club entrance. Possibly this anger is a delayed reaction from his inconsiderate behavior earlier? Surely, he knew I would panic when he was not in his usual seat.