The Parasite | Eminem

23

I stare up at him, face blank, empty.
This is a moment of silenced disconnect.
The cigarette continues to burn.
I inhale systematically.
"You ok?"
Sometimes people ask questions even when they know the answers.
It's just so you get that little metaphorical sticker of achievement.
Yay, I did my due diligence!
I wasn't apathetic!
I wasn't shitty!

He exhales a sigh.
It's in these small moments where you really get to know a person.
"No. I'm scared... I'm worried I caused this" he attempts to articulate his thoughts, coming out stagnant and bleak.

Outside the police station, we stand at the curb.
Marshall just filed the missing persons report.
He stands.
I sit.
We're not operating on the same levels.
Sometimes, symbolism comes to you.

"You didn't cause this. You're too good to do this to yourself" I affirm, watching him nibble on his bottom lip anxiously.
I feel like wincing at my own tone.
It's dark and emotionless.
It makes me feel shitty.

"But- if I was just- nicer, maybe she wouldn't have disappeared." His posture is horrible, his hands are stuffed in his pockets, and his head hangs low.
All the worst possible physical materializations.
He's taking this really bad.

"Don't waste your time with 'what ifs' Marshall. You'll only drive yourself crazy" I tell him, pulling the finished cigarette out of my mouth, putting it out on the pavement.
I stand up slowly, wrapping a hesitant arm around his shoulders.
"She wanted the divorce, she got it. She didn't even want you to have Hailie and then she suddenly drops her off with you and disappears? Yeah, that doesn't have to do with you."
She's dealing with something, but I highly down that it has to do with Marshall.
Sure, the whole getting divorced thing is bound to make someone depressed, but if she goes from hating Marshall and not wanting him to have Hailie to suddenly just giving her to him?
Something's wrong.
Suddenly, an idea comes to mind, but it sounds too dark to suggest out loud.
I'll let the cops handle this.
If I say too much cynical and uncomfortable shit, he might break up with me.
I tend to be very hate-able.

"Marlow, you aren't really helping." He mutters, face stone cold.
He looks deep in thought.
I assume his head is eating him alive at the moment.

"I know. I'm sorry, I can't really read rooms, and when I do, I'm still shit at moving forward. It's best if I don't talk during times like these" I chuckle softly, trying to lighten the mood.

We're silent for a few moments.
I press my lips together in an awkward frown.
I hold my breath.
I wished he'd say something.
Even if he berated me.
That would be welcome.

"What do you think I should do?" He suddenly asks, catching me off guard.
His eyes lock with mine.
They're desperate, horribly torn apart.
They're glossy.
God, this man has too much heart.

"I thought you didn't want my advice?" I raise an eyebrow, returning his strong gaze, minus the emotion.

"Well, as soulless as you are, you're practical" he chuckles bitterly, noting the humor in the situation.

"Well, you'r daughter gets out of school in an hour, and she needs you. So I'd say, focus your attention on her, make sure she's doing alright." I tell him, really the only thing that comes to mind.
There's no point on dwelling over questions without concrete answers.

He nods, quiet and distant.
He looks deeply thoughtful, looking back down at the sidewalk.
Sometimes, silence is fucking painful as shit.
This is one of those moments.

"Wanna get something to eat before you go pick her up?" I ask softly, trying to be delicate.
That feels like an oxymoron...
Oh well.

"Uh, yeah sure..." he mumbles, finally looking at me again.
I wish I could tell him all will be alright, but I don't really know that.
I don't make promises I can't keep.

I pull my arm off him, shoving my hands into my pockets.
I look around as if I'm unfamiliar with the area.
I stretch my back out slightly, feeling a subtle pain in my lower back.

"Aight, I know a place we can get food around here" I tell him, grabbing my car keys out of my pocket and heading up to the little shit-box.
It's a means of transportation, I can't be too mad at it.

He silently follows after me, sliding into the passenger seat and keeping his gaze down on his hands.
He's clearly still struggling with all of this.
I feel like saying something...
It feels bad to see him upset.

"Whatever happens, happens. You filed the report, you talked to everyone you could, you looked every where. You can't save people, Marshall... they go and get themselves saved."
I mutter, shoving the key in the ignition.
Maybe that's a bit harsh...
Well, I can't take it back now...

"Yeah... I guess" he agrees, voice hostile and uncomfortable.

"Do you still love her?" I ask suddenly, not sure why.
Part of me really wants to know.

His head instantly lifts, his eyes widen.
He looks caught off guard, but he's still silent, choked up...

Oh...

"I- I mean, obviously, part of me still loves her. I've been with her pretty much all of my life..."
I feel like a fool.
I knew this is what I'd be dealing with, but now I just feel bad.
I shouldn't of gotten involved.
It was all a horrible idea, straight from the start.

"Marlow- it's over. We're divorced. I love you, ok? But- but there's history..." he assures, eyes begging silently for forgiveness as they start to pool with a glossy layer of tears.
I don't know why he looks so desperately hopeless.
Is he afraid I'll leave him?
Wait- did he just say he loves me?

"I- I don't care, Marshall, I'm not gonna leave you" I scoff, as if the idea is mad.
Sure, he's still in love with another woman, but why's monogamy so important anyways?
Ok, now I'm just trying to convince myself now...
"Did- did you just say you love me?" I sputter out the question, watching his face turn a soft cherry.
His gaze falls, he nibbles on his lip.
Oh god, he really loves me.
Oh jesus...

"I guess..." he mumbles bashfully before giving out a grin.
I can barely pay attention to the road, it's just-
God his face is so precious...
I need to pull over.

"Woah- uh, woah"
I pull over suddenly, turning the car off.
Ok, Marshall loves me...
That's something to get used to...

"Does that freak you out?" He asks anxiously, knitting his eyebrows together in worry.
Oh shit, now I think I'm freaking him out...

"No. No... it's just. No one's ever said that to me before..." I realize this within the moment.
Holy shit, no one has ever told me that....
All I've gotten was slack from my dad, and sure I guess I know he loves me... but, you know... in a tough love way.

"That's- that's fucking stupid." He scoffs, leaning over to my side, grabbing my cheek.

"You're a heathen... but you're mine" he smirks, warm lips pressing on mine.
This is far being my emotional capacity.
I feel alien- yet... loved... which makes me feel even more strange.

When he pulls his lips away, he rests his forehead against mine.
I feel lost, head swarming with curiosities.

"Totally off topic, but uhm. The MTV awards are coming up, I'm nominated for some stuff... and I was wondering if you'd come?" He asks passionately, eyes full of hope.
Oh man.
I'm the world's bleeding heart.

"Uh- yuh- yeah, absolutely"