I'm your girl

If walls could talk, my voice would grow hoarse from overuse. I am taken for granted, expected to stay standing and silent. It’s forced upon me to be a partner in crime, love, secrets, and pain. I am the whisper-keeper.

I stand between both bedrooms in the two-bedroom loft. A short hallway dumps into me, allowing me a partial view of the living and kitchen space. I am relatively young compared to the thick brick of the outer walls. They have stories of the factory that lay here before. At night, they groan with the memory of old pains. Fires and abandonment. Layoffs and beatings. Death and machinery. When they begin to creak and groan, I shudder.

Currently, This loft is occupied by Tommy and Susie. I watched Tommy propose to Susie on Valentine's Day last year. She cried and jumped up and down, nodding an ecstatic yes. He pressed her against me, and I tried not to blush. Susie spends her days in an office downtown and her nights with a glass of wine making DIY wedding decorations. She tacks her finished products to my office wall side, then stands back and sighs in satisfaction. Tommy works from home and spends his evening with a beer and a remote control while Susie crafts. Sometimes, he brushes a hand over her knee and squeezes, a silent invitation for intimacy. She always takes him up on it.

I’m not a fan of Tommy. His coworker, Jenna, comes over for work projects. Those meetings start in the office and end in the bedroom. Jenna is crass and loud, often mocking Susie's wedding decor. Sometimes she snips a bit of wire off the back side, and they slowly untwist throughout the week. Tommy laughs at Jenna’s sabotage and drags her into the bedroom. Poor Susie can’t figure out why her wire keeps snapping.

Tonight, something about the phone call Susie takes in the kitchen is off. I can’t hear what is said. She talks low and breathy. Panicky. She moves into the bedroom and paces before me. I know that she knows. She bites her thumbnail and stares at the bed as if it will rise and grab her.

She draws the bedding back, runs a hand along the sheet, and checks for evidence. Finding nothing, she straightens it. She continues her movement, stops, and sharply bites off the nail at the quick. Susie sucks in a pained breath as blood bubbles to the surface. Licking at the wound, she wipes it along my paint, her attention still on the bed. She wanders to the edge again, sucking her thumb. She lifts a pillow and sniffs it. Then the other. Her ears turn red, and she heaves breaths as she throws the pillow at me. It didn’t seem to help. She swings her body like a rag doll, snatching the pillow and beating it against me, screaming in my soft-grey face. Spent, Susie drops it and steps on it for good measure, twisting her ballet flat and marring the surface. It’s her pillow. She storms back into the living room.

I listen to her cussing in the kitchen as a spoon laden with red sauce slices through the air. Oh, God. It will take a few layers of paint to cover that stain. A scream rips through the apartment, and a pan full of sauce follows the spoon. Susie steps into my line of sight, holding her head in her hands, and leans heavily against the counter. Her bottom lip trembles as she tries not to cry.

The front door opens, and She pales as her head snaps up, staring toward the living room. Tommy is home. He is a vile creature, but I keep my opinions to myself. He saunters into the kitchen, grabs her face, and plants a kiss square on her mouth. Her cheeks flame and she pulls away, but Tommy is already walking out of the kitchen, asking about dinner. Susie clenches her fists at her sides.

“Are you serious?”

Tommy turns back to Susie, confused. “Oh, Babe! What happened?” Tommy steps towards the mess of what was once dinner and laughs. “Don’t worry. I’ll order takeout. Anything for my girl.” He winks. “Let me wash off the gym.”

“Yeah. Right, the gym.” Susie is pacing again. “I’m your girl, huh?”

Tommy stops and turns. Of course, you’re my girl.” He laughs, obtuse to the scene unfolding. “My main girl.” He winks. Idiot.

Susie doesn’t respond, and Tommy whistles to the bathroom. As the water runs, she slams her open palm on the counter a few times, muttering. She scurries into the bedroom, digs through his pants tossed on the floor, and pulls out his phone.

“I always said I wouldn’t be this girl.” She whispers, then unlocks it. “Nothing.” Susie shuffles through apps and screens, clicking furiously. She growls, clenching it tighter. “Nothing. It doesn’t make sense. I saw the picture. He was kissing her. I saw it.” She pulls the screen closer to her face, the blue light tinting her cheeks, giving her an ethereal appearance. “A hidden app. Son of a….” Susie tosses the phone into the clothes. “Four. Four different girls. Unbelievable.” Susie begins to shake. A strange look settles over her face as she pulls her shoulders tight and walks stiffly from the room. She is quiet, and I can't see her anymore.

Tommy gets out of the shower, and Susie appears in the doorway, leaning against its frame.

“So, if I’m your main girl, what do you call the other girls you sleep with? Are they your girls, too?” Susie smiles wide, showing her teeth, and leans her head against the frame.

Tommy freezes, holding his boxers against his chest. “What? What other girls? You know it's only you, Babe.”

“Is it? So you didn’t kiss a girl at the gym? One who followed you out of the lockers?” She traces a groove in the doorframe with her finger, feigning nonchalance.

“That’s crazy. I would never do that.”

“Your coworker, Jenna, was at the gym, too. She sent me a picture of you running your hands over some slut.” Susie's voice begins to rise with each word.

“Jenna? Jenna sent you a picture. How does she even… She was at the gym… I… She…” Tommy runs the boxers over his mouth, shaking his head.

Uh, oh. If only Susie knew what I had witnessed.

“Do you know how humiliating it is to get a phone call from someone I barely know, then to have her text me disgusting photos? Do you know how humiliating it is to hear pity in her voice? I don’t like being embarrassed like that, Tommy. I don’t like women knowing more about my relationship than me. I thought you were happy! You proposed to me! Remember?”

“I am happy, Babe. I love you. Let me explain….”

“Is it true?” Susie cuts him off.

“It’s complicated.”

“Is. It. True?” Susie Screams, smacking a palm to the door with each word.

“Yes.”

Susie launches from the doorway, pulling a knife from hiding. Tommy raises his hands, snorting in surprise. Susie is too quick as she sinks the blade to the hilt into his eye. A pop that sounds like a champagne cork shocks the air, then Tommy lets out an animalistic shriek. But Susie isn’t finished. She jerks the knife free in an arc, peppering me with eye goop and blood, and slices across Tommy’s neck. He falls at her feet, and she steps back, watching. He gurgles and shakes, clutching his neck and wheezing.

Susie hunkers down, level with his ear. “You stupid asshole. You could have had a life of devotion and a loyal wife. No one embarrasses me, Tommy. No one.”

She stands and leans against me, wiping the knife handle and waiting patiently. As Tommy takes his last breath, Susie tosses the blade on the floor beside him, then wanders into the bathroom to clean herself up. She comes out and throws herself into me, repeatedly, until the left side of her face is swollen and purple. She opens the sliding glass patio door and throws a plant through it. An alarm begins to wail into the night.

Susie walks back into the kitchen. She sprints and throws herself one last time into the wall with the pasta sauce, knocking herself out. She waits for the alarm to be answered, crumpled beside her spilled dinner, and for the performance of a lifetime to begin.

I am desperate to cry out against the violence witnessed and for the truth to unfold. I have to say I didn't think she had it in her. How long before someone wipes this man from my face?