HOLD YOU - STEVE WEDDLE
In the story I’m writing, you want me to hold you down. Tie you up. You say you like a man who knows what he wants. You say you’re glad I found you. What took me so long?
This wasn’t easy.
At first, I didn’t even know you. I’d seen your picture online when I clicked a friend’s vacation album. Your eyes. The diamond-like twinkle. Like it was before they made me take those tablets. The lip-smacking good ones. Haha. That’s a joke.
No, this wasn’t easy. You were so very careful. I can see why. So pretty. So very, very pretty. Like a porcelain angel. So fragile.
When I saw your picture, it was like you were the one. Like I had found the answer to a math problem I’d been working on for twenty-five years. “Show your work.” Haha. Oh, I will. So pretty.
I was worried you wouldn’t accept my friend request. I do not take rejection well. So I had to set up an entirely new person just to be safe. You have to be safe. People are crazy.
That’s why I made her go to the same college as you. And I found so many people with so many friends. Did you know that a person who has more than 500 friends will just automatically add you? I made a chart. People with a couple hundred friends, maybe they know all of those people. You can’t just request to be their friends. You do not have very many friends, but your friends do. So I added some of them. The friendly ones. So funny. Like we all went to the same college.
Also, finding a nice looking girl online is difficult. One who is not a whore. More of them are whores. I tried some search terms and finally decided “homely pretty girl midwest” would work best. I didn’t want to be too pretty, you know? Or a whore. No one likes a whore. Not for more than a few minutes, anyway. Haha.
I updated my status, liked some of the things you liked. Mad Men. Nickelback. This was a fun game. Not easy, like I said. But fun. When you needed a machine gun for mob wars, I was your guy. Or girl.
It was only by accident that I friended your husband. I don’t like him. I think he is too flirty with the women he knew from high school. Why would he do that to you? And that goatee? Puh-lease. I have been watching his status for months, too. Boy, does he bitch about work all the time. Can you imagine if his boss reads his page? You can’t be too careful. People are crazy. Haha.
If I were him, I would not go away for a “boys’ weekend” like he did. I would not have left you alone tonight in that house. They could go. I would be waiting at home for you when you got here at six-thirty. I would have made you the chicken alfredo from the recipe you linked to last week. Mmmhm. That was good. I had to try it. Like we were having dinner together.
Maybe we can have breakfast in that room you just remodeled. The pine floors look so much better. Don’t listen to people and their silly comments. You’re so sensitive. So fragile. So beautiful.
When you invited your friends over last week and showed the mapquest directions, I knew what was going on. Fate. Like the math problem was coming to a close.
Like I said, in the story I’m writing, you want me to hold you down. Which is why I packed this bag. Which is why I am waiting by the gazebo, waiting for you to turn out the light in the den and go upstairs.
BIO: A former English professor, Steve Weddle has an MFA in poetry and hates guns. Every Monday, he takes a break from being a complete sissy to blog about crime fiction at DoSomeDamage. He is the editor of Needle, a magazine of crime fiction, featuring work by Christopher Grant and others. Weddle's work has appeared at Beat To A Pulp and CrimeFactory.
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