“Have you ever wondered what it would be like
to bake a batch of poisoned cupcakes” I asked my friend- not because I was interested in baking poisoned cupcakes but I was desperate to change the subject
because
if I had to hear her talk about her unnatural affection for her brother
and the story about how she slept with the man she felt was responsible for her other brother’s suicide one more time I was probably going to skip the cupcake part and drink the poison MYSELF
because
her story about her twisted desires was boring.
Her story was boring the first time I heard it and it was boring the half millionth time I heard it.
She wrote poems about her brothers, she bought artwork that reminded her of her brothers, she even had pictures of them next to her bed.
” No.” she said stopping her well worn tale midsentence. ” You know, this is a pretty important story from my life and what you said just now was totally non-supportive and not something a real friend would do.”
” I’m sorry. ” I said.
” What kind of thing to say is that? Poisoned cupcakes. Who would actually bake and serve poisoned cupcakes?”
I shrugged as she picked a shortbread cookie off of my cookie tray and began to nibble at it.
” An idiot” I said after some careful thought. Cupcakes take forever to prepare. Cookies though…” I said. ” I can mix and bake and fill and cut those things out like-”
She dropped the cookie back on the tray and our afternoon tea ended.
At last.
Photo A.M. Moscoso
One Halloween
I went to a cemetery and sat near a tomb and wondered what it would be like to never leave, to be left behind and forgotten because that is the natural order of things.
The living always leave the dead behind.
The thought made me feel very sad.
One Halloween
went to a cemetery and sat near a tomb
and understood what it was like
to be left behind
and the funny thing is…
I don’t remember leaving.
amm
Photo A.M. Moscoso
RDP-Sunday-SUM
RDP Thursday – COMPROMISE Create a post inspired by this word!
Photo by Milly Eaton on Pexels.com
” I don’t like the way you look at me, you know the way you look when you think I’m wrong and you’re right.” he told her as they sat face at their kitchen island in their brightly lit kitchen .
Their counselor had suggested they have this talk in a place where they had no history of yelling, or throwing things or insulting each other.
The only place they could do that was the kitchen- not because it was filled with bright colors and nice smells they chose it because they never used it and they never used it because they never ate together.
Plus they knew on some level it was probably not a good idea to be together in a room full of sharp and breakable objects.
” Well.” She said after a few minutes after thinking before speaking ( another piece of over priced advice ) ” I hate the way you say mean things to me when you think I’m wrong and you’re right.”
” I hear you.” came his carefully crafted reply. ” I think that I can say, in this safe place where we’ve agreed to share our feelings, that I hate it when you give me the evil eye when you think you’re right and I’m wrong.”
She reached for her coffee cup- which was full of hot coffee and instead of pulling it towards herself she slid it to her right. ” I don’t think you do. Hear me. Especially when you know I’m right and you are really wrong.”
They were both trying very hard to smile.
The results were not exactly stellar, but lots of teeth were involved.
” I think we are at a place where we have learned- through the hours and hours and hours of guidance from our awesome Counselor- to compromise so that we can have a happy, healthy relationship together, as opposed to happy healthy apart.”
” That’s not an option, the apart option” she said with feeling. ” I think we can both agree, we are not exactly the easiest people to love, or even the easiest people to sit in the same room with, without you know- being armed with Tasers or something. You get me. Nobody else does.”
He sighed in agreement and pointed to her cup of coffee and she nodded. She did however keep her eyes on it as he took the cup, helped himself to a sip and didn’t take her eyes off of it until he put the cup down again.
” So what should we do?”
” Well. If I could ask for one change, I’d ask you didn’t get so mean when you talk to me. You know, when you think I’m wrong and you’re right.:”
” And to be honest, I truly despise you when you give me that stink eye when you think I’m wrong and you’re right.”
” I’m willing to compromise, no stink eye for no more snark.”
He leaned back and smiled.
” Okay. Let’s do it. On three we agree to make the changes to ourselves- for each other.” she said with actual enthusiasm. ” I can feel it, you know? I know I can change myself, I can’t change you but I CAN change myself. I’m really feeling it. We can do this!”
” Happy, healthy together- hell yes!” he shouted with actual joy.
They stood up and met each other at the end of the island and in each of their hands was a boning knife.
She closed her eyes, he opened his mouth.
Compromise.
Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com