In Love with the Wrong Man

Chapter 1: The Sweetest Monster to Love

Forbidden fruit: a concept that has plagued mankind from the very beginning of time.  The idea of having something you're not supposed to have has been my biggest downfall. Oh, how I rivaled the love that Whitney Houston and Bobby Brown had, or more like Blueface and Chrisean. It's funny how you surpass your idols.
            Oh, excuse my manners, my name is Calvin and my mother would be appalled at my lack of Southern gentility.
          Now back to the dilemma at hand. I'm in love with a zombie, or more like I'm keeping my zombie husband around. You see, before the world went to hell, I married what most of my friends considered "the walking dead," due to his soul-sucking abilities. My husband Oscar and I met in undergrad. He was the perfect gentleman once we first started courting, but it wasn't until several years into the relationship that I realized the true essence of my husband. Yet, love will make you do some dumb shit and tolerate the most unimaginable.
But, before we delve into the erroneous bullshit I endured, let's take a trip back to undergrad where it all began the fall semester of my senior year.
One August, in a year that's too far to remember, I stood in my doorway talking with Alexander Smitty, a rather handsome, copper-toned young man with a smile that could light up the night sky; during my time at Langston College, he and I became great friends. "Hey there, Alexander. Are you getting ready for the big game?" I said as I stood in my doorway, looking at him pack his bag full of perishables. "Of course I am. Anyone who isn't going is missing out," he said teasingly to me. "Whatever, Alexander, you know I have some work to catch up on. Besides, it's not like –" I felt a slight bump, and a dark, tall, and extremely handsome silhouette appears and interrupts our conversation and approaches Alexander. Lord, if only I knew then that everything that's dipped in chocolate isn't sweet.
             After Alexander and Oscar finished their conversation, we walked to Alexander's room as he finished packing for his trip."Who was that? I enjoyed his energy," my eyes gleamed with desire and curiosity, as I plopped down in one of Alexander's chairs.
      "Uh-oh. I know that look. You're infatuated. His name is Oscar, and really 'liked his energy'? What do you mean by that?" Alexander clearly confused while putting clothes in his suitcase.
"I like his energy," he seems," I paused briefly to think, "genuine."
It's funny how words can come back to bite you in ways you never imagined.
"That's one way to look at it," Alexander whispered as he finished packing and began walking out of the dormitory, his facial expression unreadable. "Don't get into any trouble while I'm gone, and don't go looking for Oscar."
Maybe I should have listened.
That weekend, I fell in love with Oscar. Sure, I had only seen him a couple of times and hadn't even uttered one hundred words to him, but I knew what I wanted because, around that time in my life, I was praying heavily. I wanted God to send me a man who was strictly for me; I wanted to feel loved unconditionally; I wanted to find my Prince Charming; I wanted to be reciprocated for what I'd been giving away freely to others. Lying there on my bed watching the silhouettes of the blinds dance against the wall with Oscar beside me - his hand in mine - made it seem like I finally received the answers to my prayers.
Years passed. Fifteen to be exact. I got married to the love of my life, had a flourishing career as a marriage counselor, and received many awards for my work. It's still crazy how I helped people every day with their marriages and yet I couldn't seem to save my own. But that's not all, I also watched the world I knew and loved turn to shit.
WHOOSH! BOOM! "And you better not text Alexander ever again!" Oscar screamed as he threw my body into the mirror, the glass shattering on the ground. At that moment, I couldn't help but think how my life would have been if I hadn't seen him in that hallway fifteen years ago. If I just would've listened to my instincts and friends and left when I had the chance. He raised one of his large hands and prepared to strike me again; I began to cower, but the blow never came. His violent tirade ceased as he heard the breaking news on television.
"This is Sasha Davis with WDYZ; the CDC has recently reported a new strain of necrotizing fasciitis that is resistant to any medical intervention. Specifically, it attacks the largest muscle, the one body imperative to our survival: the heart. Symptoms include chest pains, sweats and chills, body aches, sinus pressure, and...."
Oscar cuts off the television before we can learn the last symptom. Realizing what he has done, he apologizes and tells me that this will never happen again; he tells me that he loves me. something I've heard all too often, but I still forgive him.
It's 2:00 A.M.; I wake up hearing a strange noise. "Baby, what's that?" I whisper. I look over, All of Oscar has a look of panic on his face. "Call...call..." He clenches his chest and lets out an inaudible gasp. "Are you okay, Oscar?" I ask; he doesn't answer. "Baby, are you ok?" my voice crackling with fear. No response.
I slowly ease out of the bed. As I creep up on him I hear nothing but a low growl. "Answer me, Oscar. Are you okay?" There still isn't a response. Finally, I reached the head of the bed. I stepped closer and pulled back the covers. There laid Oscar stone-faced and almost lifeless. His beautiful brown eyes open, but with a blank expression. I wave my hand in front of his face; nothing happens, but the low growl intensifies. Is he dreaming? Is he going through sleep paralysis? Suddenly, a corpse-like figure rises out of the bed and stares directly at me, walking towards me slowly... I don't move. Could this be Oscar? It can't be. He looks too beautiful. Too peaceful; too loving. Too much like what I always desired: love. I move in closer to inspect the body that stood before me, feeling his face and cherishing his now disease-ridden features. I kiss him and feel teeth dig into my neck. He feasts upon my flesh. Once he's finished, I open my eyes to see myself lying before the same mirror, lying in the same pile of broken glass staring at my reflection and my husband's, the same one I've looked at for the last fifteen years - shattered and broken beyond repair yet still beautiful. Isn't it amazing how you can love the exact thing you're supposed to hate? Yeah, I married a monster, but now he's forever mine.