Coalescence: A Welder Romance

Chapter One: Pathetic

MAY 2017

Gwen

I scarfed pad Thai siew while I scrolled through Netflix, searching for something to watch. Reading wasn't taking my mind off my grousing thoughts like it normally did. All those super-swanky book boyfriends that occupied my shelf were not making it easier to fill the hole he left in my heart. I needed to mindlessly indulge in something, anything to divert my attention from him.

At the mere thought of him, my eyes darted to my phone on my lap, where his Facebook page was still open, taunting me via happy photos of his fabulous life with his new girlfriend. Frustrated with myself, I flipped my phone over and stabbed at the noodles with the plastic fork, imagining Erik's face. It brought me a smidgen of comfort.

My gray tabby cat, Dahmer, jumped onto the sofa beside me, stalking over to sniff at the carton in my hand. He liked Thai food almost as much as I did.

"Back off," I grumbled, pulling the carton away from his searching nose. He began to purr loudly, pushing his head against my arm, gently nipping at me. Sighing, I relented, picking up a tiny piece of beef and offering it to him. He snatched it from between my fingers and looked at me expectantly, as if waiting for more.

Dahmer was named after the Milwaukee Cannibal. I was a little angry when I'd chosen that moniker. Angry at men, specifically Erik, and angry at myself. My mother had been horrified to find out that I'd named my cat after a serial killer, but honestly, the cat needed a name as crazy as he was, and I wanted a name that didn't reflect my new cat lady spinster status.

Ever since the day I brought him home from the pound seven months ago, he'd kept me on my toes. Dahmer gave affection when it suited him, for as long as it suited him. He also punished me as he saw fit—ignoring me, attacking my legs when I came home from work a little late. Sometimes, he left me dead things. Usually just bugs, but one time he managed to catch a mouse, and he deposited that prize on my pillow.

Neurotic cat-like behaviour aside, he was surprisingly good at sensing my moods and drawing me out of them, and he made me feel a little less alone.

Before Dahmer, the silence of my apartment was too much, even for me, and I was a girl who liked her solitude. I needed it after working in an office all day at a job I couldn't stand.

Administration. I'd picked the most basic, brainless program to take in college. I was shoved from the unforgiving, angst-filled halls of my former high school and pressed with the task of deciding my entire future in what felt like a single moment. It was overwhelming, and instead of selecting the program I'd wanted to—which was creative writing—I'd chosen one in which I could find steady work and that my parents would approve. For stability.

All my choices had been for stability. Take Erik, for example. He was safe, and he was supposed to be my forever. But he'd cheated on me, and when I found out, I tossed all his things onto the tiny patch of yellowed grass in front of the apartment.

If only it were as easy to toss away the influence of his destruction, but I was still working on it.

I realized a few things after the breakup. The most obvious being that I was no longer content with ignoring my dreams. Ever since I was a little kid, I'd dreamed of becoming a published author. I'd always loved writing, always kept notebooks around, and amongst the collection of dresses in my closet were stacks of binders full of short stories, poems, and outlines for romance novels.

Ironic, I know, especially given my current state of hating everything to do with men—which is why I hadn't bothered to open a notebook in months. Having my heart broken had hindered my ability to put pen to page and let the words flow through me. I'd grown desolate from the blank pages.