Rue

CHAPTER 3

"Leave me if you want to, I'm not forcing you to love me." Rue took her velvet silk coat, went upstairs directed to our room, and shut the door. I was completely lacking in certainty of what made her lose her temper again. Is it the vacuum? Did I forget put a lid back? I'm sure I took a bath today before laying down on the bed. What was it? My mind was racing.

Women are so predictably unpredictable. It's a sunny day, everything's fine and all of a sudden she'll come at you like a firework display mistakenly lit up. And you will know by yourself through multiple times of exposure to their explosion that you just have to let them act their versioned scene of the different dramatic movies they watch. Girls love to do that. I guess that is the first rule when you are having a relationship with them. They are the best actresses and you have to let them be. I tell you, it is not the hormones. Keep that in mind.

"I'm sorry, babe. I'm so sorry, please." I kept on knocking at the door just because I know that by the time she already feels better, she would accuse me of not making an apology for the fault I am not sure I did. And that would start another hell of a fight. I kept on telling her all the things I thought she would like to hear, but not one had an effect. She was madly mad.

I remember another fight when she asked me to steal a chair from a customer who just went to order. The fun she enjoys are the kinds where it is concurrently dangerous. Of course, what she wanted me to do was crazy, especially that the customer was a big guy with strapping tattoos. I mean, we could get in a big and strapping trouble, should I follow her.

But, she insisted and when I failed to do what she asked, she walked out of the food plaza and left me with the cheese rings we ordered.

"You bore me." She announced sharply as if to leave me with an insult.

These are the memories that started to haunt me while I thought about how I would manage to keep my meeting with the doctor from Rue. I cannot lie to her. My stomach would hurt, and my eyes cannot settle to look at her whenever I do.

But that is the thing between the act of lying, and the act of simply selecting the truths you allow yourself to tell. The latter felt a safer road. I decided I will go with that.

As I was driving through the winds which felt warmer than yesterday, I looked at the trees in the lonely old road which I chose to tread that while. I heard from the news that an accident just happened on the diversion road that morning. I always knew it would come. The new road, no matter how much it has been promoted, never felt safer than the old one.

"Is she okay? Am I to worry about her? Is she dying?" I thought about the questions I would tell Dr. Scott, but what filled my mind were the facts he would tell me prior to what I prepared. But I got to have a stronger heart and mind. If I am to lose myself in the process, our relationship would mean nothing.

While crossing the last few blocks before I reached my destination, I passed by a bus station where a middle-aged woman was carrying a basket on her lap filled with what appeared to be green leafy vegetables and other cooking products. She sat there together with who I assumed was her kid. The woman looked deeply worn out and I wondered if at that exact moment, she was loathing having a child. Having to have thought that way proved my theory that whatever one is feeling will affect all the other aspects of his or her life, especially his or her thinking.

Why did I think negatively of that woman? I thought to myself.

On the other side of the bench, the kid played with her toes, as if dancing to jazz music. I noticed that the kid was holding a lunchbox, which made me remember my ten year-old self who always wanted one.

Lunchboxes are the best and easiest prompt to my Halloween trauma; of when children would carry their pumpkin bags which they want to fill with treats from people who would open their doors from their knocks.