Double Chocolate Chip Fudge

 

 

You. You with your coy smile and golden hair and big green eyes. You.

 

You are the reason for all of this mayhem. You have brought madness into my life, like God with his plagues, harming and destroying it all; scaring me, even when there is calm. Angel of Death. You are killing me inside. I only asked for one thing.

 

When it started we were fine. Regular. Normal. Heartbeat. We ate ice-cream at the park and talked about family; friends; love. That last one was your doing. You gave love and expected it back, what could I do but offer it? Then things all changed. The sun was shining as you walked off in tears; so much for pathetic fallacy. You just looked pathetic. And I remember the blind man with his dog and white stick, and the cyclists in their tight fitting Lycra, and the way that the grass and the leaves shone in the sunlight, the perfection of Creation.

 

I remember all of this, and more. That was the last moment my life was normal. I don't remember which way you went though. The police have asked me to try to remember, interrogation, hypnosis, they've attempted it all. And every time I try and I fail, I go home and lay on a pile of your clothes; they still smell like you - just. I hope that it will jog my memory.

 

You've made me so tired. I don't want to leave the house. But I force toast down my throat and put on my shoes, cover my hair - still not brushed - with your favourite hoody. I used to run five kilometres a day, you thought I was mad. But you'd always be there at the front door with your perfect cup of tea when I got home. God I loved your tea. Amongst other things. But now I don't run five kilometres; I don't run any number. I just keep going, until I throw up, hoping to catch a glimpse of you, or of finding you stood back on the doorstep, tea in hand when I come crawling back.

 

But you are never there when I get home. For the first few days it was the police who I found waiting for me. Then even they stopped coming. I spend my days laid in bed, there is no reason for me to move. I guess word travels fast - work never called.

 

On the sixth day, just as man and woman appeared from God's hands, hearts boom-booming with the rush of new life, your mother appeared on the doorstep. I'd like to say that when she saw me, unwashed and bleary-eyed, sympathy passed across her rotund face. But that would be a lie. She was angry. She looked like she could flood the world with wrath and never send any rainbows. Of course she knew it was going to happen. I had taken her baby girl's innocence and now I was to blame. I only asked for one thing, and in some twisted horror-film plot, you gave it.

 

I expect you made the evening news. I wouldn't know, our TV set holds too many memories. Remember watching the Wizard of Oz last Christmas? I told you we were too old for it, but you put it on anyway and we welcomed in Christmas asleep in each others arms. But where are you now Dorothy? Your red shoes are lost and there's no way home.

 

By the tenth day my mindless running only took me to the end of the road. I didn't convince myself that you would be just around the next corner, but sat on the ground and waited. You had to be home soon. Mr Wheeler from next door picked me up and carried me home. I wouldn't drink the tea he made. The following day he came over to make me lunch - chicken and bacon salad - which was happily consumed by the bin. By the fifteenth day he gave up, and retired to his allotment.

 

When you had been gone sixteen days, the police came back. They asked me if I wanted to change my statement; a simple request that held a subtext. They think I am responsible for all of this. Heartbreak. This nightmare you have put me in. I didn't change it, I've told them everything I know; I'd even tell them your favourite ice-cream flavour if I thought it would help. Double chocolate chip fudge. You licked your lips just at the name. It was your only vice. I told the air that I wanted ice-cream, and the officers took me back to the park, our park. I order your flavour and imagine I am waiting to surprise you.

 

 

What I asked for, you've given me enough. I miss you, and I love you, always have. All the police can do is give me more of it. I don't want it any more. If I could go back and tell you yes, I would, with all my heart.

Please come back.

I don't want it any more,

time.