jumpscare

A familiar buzz tickled my hip. Absent-mindedly, puppetered from routine, I slid the phone out of my pocket. Perhaps it was the unremarkable motion, permitting me to lower my guard, that stunned me so. No. There wasn’t a possible precaution I could have taken. My bewilderment would have overwhelmed any strategy I could have taken against the glow of my screen illuminating his name across it. The sight of it alone was enough to petrify me longer than any grown woman should be glancing at a man’s name. Shuttering my eyes closed and allowing air to occupy every inch of space my expanding rib cage would allow, I said a silent prayer. To no one, to anyone- anything to get me through whatever this was about to become.

Rage flared most passionately from the knot of emotions that were undone. Years. It had been years since I had heard from him. Fury skipped within the blood now pounding with urgency through my body. A fool. I was no more than the awestruck nine year old gazing at the boy that stirred my spirit more fervently than anyone else… anything else. I had never been able to shake the warmth that flushed my cheeks and the heebeegeebees that danced within my chest, despite years of scolding myself for the transparency of my emotions. Or perhaps I was not as forthcoming as I believed. Since the motive behind my emotions was never explored. Nothing more than carnal release when sequestered in our hometown. Not enough to convey the depths of my affections. Not even close. Everything. I had wanted to relinquish all of myself. The type of commitment that promised if it were to break, there was no hope of leaving unscathed. So, the unforeseen pleasantry was entirely inadequate. And holding my tongue around him had never been a strength of mine.

A bastard for his ignorance. What did he even know of me today? The woman I have become. The battles I have overcome. The triumphs and accolades. The wounds and scars sketched along my body. My disposition is not all I am. The sharp edges of life have whittled me with precision. Smaller, yes, but more intricate, one of a kind- mishaps, masterpieces, and all.

My temper threatened to riot against the short leash I allowed it. He had always known just how to make me stir. The most frequent culprit of my hypnosis were the words he challenged me with. The tenacity and swagger he laced in every dribble of words left me susceptible to his charm. While other men often balked at my cheeky and sinister bite, he had only ever humored it. Challenging me if I could handle him. The two of us, who had always waited for others to keep up, never missed a beat when it came to the other. Detesting dragging this exchange into a playful banter, I summoned curt candor. His weakness. When I tore into his inner illusions to allow the glare of reality to cloak his face.

It was his turn to be stunned. I knew holding my breath for a response was futile. The fickle man would revert to boyhood. Once again, I would watch him pull away. Unable to confront me in earnest.