i dreamt i was lying in my bed, working on my big nice computer from work. working on something late at night, z. was in her bedroom playing, it seems. j. (my ex) emails me asking, don’t i hate when linked in sends these dummy messages in a certain format, and includes an example in which his girlfriend nicki (*the actual name of a girl he dated) had sent a message and linked in sent a phantom message, supposedly from her, right next to it. i looked at the message thoughtfully and pondered replying at all. in my mind, i knew i had to temper my responses to him because it took little to get him engaged in too regular of a back and forth exchange. while i continued to think of this, he appears. through my front door and walking into my bedroom. surprised, i’m like, j.! what are you doing here? he, the good-natured dork who has always been annoyingly comfortable with himself wherever he was and pleasantly oblivious to any social faux pas he’d engaged in launched into a discussion about books he’d been reading and the quandary he’d found himself in financially as he continued to want new books that he never finished, and should he order for amazon, should he curb his appetite for knowledge, at one point, i managed to ask dubiously, do you even READ the books, and on and on he droned, until i shooed him out of my bedroom so i could dress or do something to be more presentable since apparently he needed to be here talking for a bit. i went into the bathroom, which smelled like poop, i looked for an incense to burn, and tried unsuccessfully to figure out the best place to burn it, all the while feeling completely underdressed in a white slip that i used to slip in years ago, but never really wear any more. i was irritated that he’d come to my place and irritated that i had to get up and put clothes on and irritated that i had to leave my bedroom to see what was going on with him, but more than all of it, i felt that it was deeply inappropriate for him to be here and tried to figure out a way to quickly get him out before you (bf) came home, from atlanta, it seems…. i found a sweater to put on and went into the kitchen, passing z.’s room where she seemed to be on the phone and playing nicely with her blankets or teddy bears or something in a large heap. i noticed my windows were open and there was a white man in the distance standing near his car, looking toward my window. i immediately enlisted j.’s aid in fixing the shades to cover my entire windows, all the while launching into my speech, j., you can’t just be popping up over here all willy nilly. you just can’t come OVER here like this. i know, he guffawed, chatty about his world, how do you want me to fix this? i told him how, and he told me how he needed to do it, taking a whole shade off the window, revealing me in my slip at 2am, in here with him, and that white man outside and i just started getting more and more uncomfortable. J.! you have to do it THIS way, walking over to him, standing at the kitchen sink, la-dee-da, like it wasn’t the middle of the night and my window wasn’t wide open to the world. on top of my dirty dishes in the kitchen sink, wrapped in regular saran wrap on a yellow styrofoam meat container, was a large human heart, enclosed in ribs, deep burgundy with blood, wrapped neatly with ventricles cut, lungs and all in tact inside the rib cage.
i thought to myself, wth. this must be your (bf’s) idea of a joke. you bought this and left this here for me? my impulse was to grab it and throw it in the freezer, but i realized, i don’t want that human heart in my freezer, i want to trash it, but it’s raw meat, how long did he have that thing defrosting? j. doesn’t even realize how twisted this is, sitting in my kitchen sinnk, what the hell is he doing with the shade now??? he’s putting little miniature rubik’s cubes into the shade as ornamental handles and where is that man outside? i look and he’s gone, which is even more disconcerting than the heart in my sink. i scream at j., would you PLEASE just do it my WAY because that is how i want it DONE???? he barely even notices me screaming (typical of our relationship), just keeps calmly working and chatting, reminding me of a caricature, paul bunyon maybe, with babe’s heart in my sink. i liken it to a cow’s, thinking, it’s not normal to sell human parts at the grocery store, but there’s no way it’s a cow’s. it’s a human’s and my bf left this in my sink. some kind of commentary on something i’ve done to him. what have i done… at this point, i overhear ruckus in the living room, and remember, peripherally, z. on the phone discussing going somewhere with her litle cousin mia (a known offender) as i take a few steps into the living room, i notice my apartment door is wide open and i began to hyperventilate and go into convulsions as i storm toward z.’s room, quickly scanning the floor for something i can beat her with that won’t kill her but will make a sure and steady impression. she is tying one of those large bundles, it appears to be a thick robe or blanket, into a beachball-sized bundle, and still on the phone, headed to the door. i begin to scream, Z.!!!! DON’T!!! YOU!!! EVER!!! OPEN MY DOOR TO GO NO!!!WHERE!!!! WITHOUT!!! MY PERMISSION!!!!!!! WHERE THE HELL ARE YOU GOING WHO THE HELL IS ON THE PHONE WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON???? i run into the living room, my eyes scanning and landing on j.’s size 15 (it seems) rubber flip flop, which has NO place in my living room, but will have to work for beating the child. i drag her into the living room and though horrified, she looks at me like something is wrong with me, and i am beside myself with rage and fear, and my voice is faltering, and my words are strained, and then, i’m losing my voice all together, as i try to find a piece of exposed flesh to beat her with the clumsy, floppy rubber shoe, i begin to strike her, missing, and half-hitting, and i try so desperately to find some skin to make her feel her punishment, and she keeps looking at me with those eyes, always wise beyond her years, and i begin to cry at the ridiculousness of this all, why is this happening to me, why won’t this night end, what am i going to do with that heart in my kitchen sink, why won’t j. fix the shades and leave, when is my bf coming back, why can’t i go to bed and where did that white man go???
i woke up with a start. i felt strangely awake. unsettled because fuck. i can’t afford to wake up when it was so hard to fall asleep. i reach for the phone to call my bf and see the time–it’s only 2:26am! it’s only been an hour???? FUCK!!!!!!!!!!
Nonfiction Woman 