Williamsburg, Brooklyn, New York
I watched her from the kitchen as she sat on the couch staring at the ring that I'd gotten her while she was gone. The apartment was dark. She seemed far away. I could see it in her eyes.
"Can I tell you something?" she asked as I sat back down next to her.
"Yes. Of course," I said, my gut tightening, bracing myself. Shit. I've heard this shit before.
"He gave me a massage today before I left."
I tried to act nonchalant. Fuck. I stood up moving to the chair across from her.
"Fuck," I said, my voice rising, blood flushing my face. I put my hands through my hair, "Fuck. Don't you think that's fucking strange?-"
"It doesn't seem strange to you? I mean, I know I lost my fucking shit on the phone last night. I'm not denying that. I won't deny that to anyone. But don't you think it's the least bit fucking strange that I had these fucking visions of this guy massaging you? And I had this nervous racing fucking anxiety plaguing me through the last two days, and I didn't know why, and I couldn't eat, and I couldn't get a hold of you, and I couldn't fucking sleep, and it was like sauna in this fucking apartment, and I was spitting up blood in the street in the heat, and I'm picturing this fucking guy massaging you, and I'm think I'm going fucking crazy, and when you finally call you start talking to him in the background putting me on hold, and I fucking lose it and I tell you - out of the goddamned blue - to tell that fucking guy that if he fucking lays his hands on you I'll fucking come up there and fucking kill him? And you come home with a cold sore on your lip-
"My sister and I used to get them when we were young!-"
"I'm just sayin, and now you're telling me that he gave you a fucking massage-"
"He's a massage therapist! He traded me for food-"
"But that's not what he's up there to do. I didn't even know this about the guy-"
"Well he is-"
"Ok. Whatever. I'm just fucking saying- I just wanna figure this out! I mean I know I went completely off the jealous fucking boyfriend deep end last night on the phone. But still. It just seems fucking weird! Don't you think? That I, for no fucking sane reason, tell you that if that guy fucking touches you I'll kill him, and he ends up fucking touching you all over, just like I'd fucking seen in my goddamned head without knowing that this new age fuck is a massage therapist. I mean-"
"No! I don't think it's weird! I think it's weird because you made it weird!-"
"I just wanna figure this out. I'm mean, shit. I just wanna know if I was having fucking ESP, some sort of sixth sense intuitive vibe about some guy wanting to fuck my girlfriend, or if I'm completely fucking crazy!-"
"You're fucking crazy Corey! It was nothing! And after I got off the phone with you last night it became a thing. I hadn't even thought of it before that-"
"Look. Just because you hadn't thought of it, doesn't mean that he hadn't. And maybe that's what I picked up on-"
"Whatever. You made it this thing. And all day today I thought maybe I should tell him something, and I felt weird, and I almost didn't get the massage. And I felt weird the whole time I got it. And afterward I felt so much better. And you know, I told him that I felt like a better person-"
"Oh, come on. Jesus! Fuck! I'm glad you two fucking bonded! Are you fucking serious? Come on. I'm gonna fucking kill this guy. This is fucking crazy. I FUCKING SAW THIS SHIT IN MY FUCKING HEAD-"
"Because you're FUCKING crazy!-"
"I don't need this fucking shit!-"
"I don't either! I didn't do anything! What did I do!" Tears filling her eyes.
"This is fucking crazy-"
"I don't deserve this!"
"Neither do I. I don't want this. This is fucked up. This is insane-"