DESIGNING MARRIAGE
The day my boss died. It was no different than your normal, sympathy gathering to see who dressed the best with the worst intentions.
I didn’t have any ties to him besides payments I collected for misery that no amount of work could compensate for. He seemed like a good man tho. He had a family he happily provided for and kept secure.
That’s how you know a man has love. But even vaults hold secrets after being fingered, opened and penetrated. I always thought people stayed married because time and age killed fantasies, so, settling became desirable.
We got high on lunchbreaks, to speed up our day and calm our anger from its drag. After work we chased the life, we helped escape. Banging glasses against bar tops that fogged our eyesight and hardened our focus to see just enough to make it home on time. It’s not in man’s nature to understand regret during the act. In this form we are placed at the top of every list of inspiration and infamy.
At work he trained me to set people up for failure in order to boost success and shock employees into improving.
His kids were... He was… His name is, was, Richard Uperman. His nickname was dick up-her-man. And Reach-up-her-man. His wife Lizette-only went by her first name. When she signed contracts, she printed her first name BIG and scribbled her last name as if she was having a seizure.
I saw Lizette and the kids leaving the grocery store a few days after. They had more steaks and sausages than a club on ladies’ night. As we reminisced, I didn’t want to make it seem like I moved on, so I lowered my voice and dropped my face. I gave hugs without really touching, like a foreign friends kiss where lips don’t touch cheeks.
I didn’t want to show I was anxious to escape faster than suicide, so I nodded a-lot and placed my hands gently on shoulders. Then she invited me to dinner. Obligation through sorrow is a manipulation tactic of murderers. How could I say no.
I couldn’t decide what to wear since I hadn’t bought any new clothes since the funeral. My wardrobe resembled the man who groomed me. I couldn’t fit anything outside of Richard’s era.
“What would Lizette think?”
I rushed to Walmart for jeans, a t-shirt, a blazer, and flowers.
When I arrived, I thought I was in the wrong place.
I hadn’t experienced such a mood since before Rich’s death.
Shirtless men and bra topped women. Weed and cigarettes perfumed the house with tones of sex and sweaty crevices. The muscles in my legs revved. My college track years tingled my memory like the gin I was sipping. I wanted to take off When I saw Richard’s regular strutting towards by me.
“Finally, I have you all to myself.”
Richard and Lizette’s daughter was seventeen and had the room open like a mouth waiting to be fed. She smelled ripe as fruit and looked sweet enough to satisfy any appetite. And I have a serious motherfucking sweet tooth. I forced myself to turn away and search for Lizette.
I asked Lizette to have a word in private. She led me down the bedroom’s hallway. Her sons room was first on the left. I grabbed her, shoved her in.
“What the fu…”
My eyes must have been closed because I didn’t see her leg raise. I didn’t dodge her scissor sharp shoes giving me a midwife’s vasectomy. I went down on my hands and knees. She pushed me over and sat on my face, muffling my groans.
She had that placebo pussy. The only pain I felt was the torment of resisting. I half-way pushed with my arms, but once I felt her warm welcome, I pushed my hips up and morals out.
That slurping. That wetness. I was drowning and felt my dream oozing while I was awake.
“OH MY GOD!”
This is why I never cared for religion. How could this pleasure be a sin if it encourages me to call out praises?
Lizette got up. I was dead weight like a man after being rescued.
“I could take care of you. Much better than Richard”
