The end

It had been six months since she had left. Six long, excruciating, pain-ridden months. It was always "left". He never used any other word to describe her passing. Left didn’t sound so horrible, so final. Left allowed for a glimmer of hope, even though there was none to be had. Nonetheless, he held on to it. Perhaps it was easier to remember her that way, to think of her voice, of her lips on his skin, of her beautiful smile, or the way her hair smelled after a shower. He would stick to left until he was no more. Which, let’s be honest, wasn’t that far ahead. He looked down at his left hand.

He was sitting in her study, where she used to work on her illustrations and designs. On her favorite armchair, where she’d sit to doodle and disconnect, take short catnaps and let the inspiration hit her when she needed to take a step back from her work. With his right hand he was holding the heart-shaped locket he had given her on their first anniversary, and which she had never taken off since then. She loved it. It was white gold, the heart engraved with floral shapes. Inside she kept a picture of the two of them on one side, and one of their pups on the other. They had always had dogs, although now the house screamed of silence. No dogs walking around, no music. Utter quiet.

The locket gave him strength. He’d be lying if he said he wasn’t afraid. The truth was he was scared shitless.

*********

When reports started coming in that men were being attacked for no apparent reason, he had believed it must’ve been related to something they’d done. People didn’t just attack others for no reason, unless they were mentally ill. That didn’t happen. Only in books and movies. Real life people were more reasonable than that, weren’t they?

It had started before she died. Much earlier. After all, wasn’t she dead because of it?

A few years earlier, when the Me Too movement gained recognition (the movement had actually existed many years before it became so widely known), women started to gain a power they had never known before. They were listened to, they were heard.

May had been relieved.

“Finally,” she had said. She had told Alex all about the inappropriate comments in the workplace, the cat calls, the “accidental” touchings in public transit, how she was once followed home by some guy, scaring her to death, how she was almost raped one night when she was out with her friends. The looks, the advances by male friends… Things Alex could never understand because he wasn’t a woman. Facts that made him reflect upon his own behavior towards the opposite sex.

The tide was starting to turn and women were finally gonna be given the chance they deserved. All the dirty laundry in so many companies and organizations started to come out, and powerful men were persecuted, cancelled, and started losing their positions.

“Good,” he say. He had always considered himself a feminist, especially after meeting May. She had opened his eyes even wider, helping him understand concepts that he didn’t even think possible.

Society seemed to be moving in the right direction, finally.

Suddenly, almost everywhere someone was crying wolf. And nobody doubted it. Fingers were pointed at pretty much anyone and everyone with a dick between his legs and with power on his side. All of a sudden, things were shifting but in a strange way. It couldn’t be that ALL men were dirty scumbags. Alex knew for a fact that that was not the case. He was a man, he had never wronged a woman… he knew other men who hadn’t. His wife knew others who hadn’t. What was happening? How was everyone guilty until proven innocent all of a sudden?

Anyone who lost on a promotion, or who had been dumped, or who was looking for compensation was now crying wolf. ANYONE and EVERYONE. These voices were drowning those of real victims, those who had been brave enough to pave the way for women who were afraid and felt vulnerable. It didn’t matter. Everyone was suddenly believed. Nobody believed that anyone would make that up. Certainly no one could be that cruel.

Protests ensued on both sides: those who claimed that all men were predators, and those who fought for due process. People were angry from every which way. As Alex looked back he wondered if people had always been that angry. Had social media fed a fire that was already there? Or had it caused it?

Pretty soon, justice didn’t matter. It was one day, on their way to her office, that everything changed. Alex had decided to accompany her as he had some things to take care of downtown. As they were getting out of the car, he noticed his phone had fallen out of his pocket and was bending to pick it up when he heard a shot (or did he hear it sooner?) and saw May fall on the driver’s side. The shot that was aimed at him had hit his wife instead. She died on the spot. Shot in the head.

From that day onwards, he felt like he was living in a nightmare.

There were snipers everywhere killing men. Just men! As if they were all guilty of attacking women, even if it was just in their thoughts. Even if it wasn’t.

Men were accused of being degenerate and the cancer of humanity. More and more groups of women were created to protect each other against men. All men! A man as much as looked in the direction of a woman, and they would take out their whistles and women who were all around would jump at the man, beat him, kick him, sometimes even kill him.

Nothing was ever done.

Alex felt that though it had gotten too far, and he was in hiding, he also figured they’d brought that onto themselves. Humans had an uncanny way of bringing misery and trouble to their lives.

He was holding that heart-shaped locket in one hand, a Ruger SR22 in the other.

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