Limbs: A Love Story by Tim Meyer

Author:Tim Meyer [Meyer, Tim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grindhouse Press
Published: 2019-02-09T05:00:00+00:00

EIGHTEEN

IT was Kayla’s last day, and she spent the entire morning changing price tags on the appliances and big-ticket items. I tried several times to waltz over there and say something to her, something that would make up for the bullshit I had dragged her through.

Something that would make up for her broken heart.

I wanted to tell her I would find a way to fix us, but there was no way I could do so without explaining everything. Maybe Percy had been right: the truth was the way to go. Didn’t some scholarly mind, some philosopher once say, “The truth will set you free.” It was probably true, the truth would set me free. Free from everything I kept hidden deep inside my skull, kept buried in a dark place. But I didn’t want to do that because the truth was also a dagger. A dagger that was heading straight for the center of my chest.

The truth was death.

Kayla was life.

I needed to live.

About the fourth time I passed by the appliances, Kayla noticed me. Our eyes connected for a few seconds—which felt like an eternity—and I was the first to look away. The sixth time I sauntered by, she stopped me.

“Hey!” she said, approaching me.

I stopped, but didn’t turn toward her. I didn’t want my eyes to settle on her for too long—I figured that would spark my brain to project those awful images again. The scenes of me slashing off an arm or a leg, the ones that made me puke.

I tested myself and allowed my vision to find her, stay with her. My imagination cooperated, and no such violent scenarios played out between my ears.

“Hey,” I said weakly.

“So, this is my last day. Not sure if you knew or not.”

“Yeah, I heard.” I turned and faced her, but not before peeking around the store, seeing if anyone was watching us. No one was—the shoppers were busy shopping and the workers were all hiding from customers or running around, completing their daily tasks. “Kayla, I wish I could fix this thing.”

“What thing is that?”

“Me.”

“What’s wrong with you?” She was tranquil, sounding at peace. On the outside. On the inside I could tell she was still hurting. A lot.

I almost told her then, in the middle of the goddamn store. I’m a sick freak with a strange sexual fixation and my dick is broken. Almost. The words were right there, on the tip of my tongue—I couldn’t pull the trigger. Hell, I even opened my mouth to speak those exact words. In the end, I had failed to fire.

“I dunno. Lots of things, probably.”

“I’m afraid I’ll need a better explanation than that.”

“Look, don’t quit. I know it sucks and it’s been awkward, but don’t quit because of me.”

Her eyes darted around the store. “It’s too late.”

“It’s not too late. You can march back to the office and tell Glen you rescind your notice. I’ve seen people do it before.”

Looking down at the ground, she said, “I don’t think you understand .

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