Sandwiches

Lip smacking repetitions echoed outside of the bedroom door. They danced through the hallways unorganized in tempo and volume. Tongue whips seemed to form a band with those sounds. She could picture a small, slimy snake mouse trapped in a dark cave. She hadn’t gotten used to all the different disgusting sounds after all these years, even with them being muffled by the door. Her back rested on that door as she hugged her legs and peered over her knees at the window in front of her.

It hadn’t always been like this with him. She still held on to his black tuxedo, her white dress, and the cake that matched the dress that read “The Tillmans” in pink icing. The first two years were like she had dreamed. Even with life grabbing them by the privates it was still shits and giggles for a while, as her father used to say. He also used to say it is all giggles until someone shits. Mathew Tillman shed his own skin in what seemed like an instant. He barked orders at Crystal Tillman all the time. They started mildly, but then they sprouted branches and grew into something else.

At this point in their lives, Mathew was a vacuum of a man. He sucked in sandwiches all day made by her. He did not even leave the house anymore because he felt that eating was all that mattered. He quit his job a few months back and depended solely on their savings account. He made sure to remind the jobless Crystal that it was his money at the end of the day. He would say, “Might as well be my face on these dollar bills."

He told Crystal that she did not have to work at the nursery anymore a little after their marriage. He said it was time to start thinking about their nursery, and he would handle being the breadwinner. That promised family never came to the table, but criticism sure did find its way. He was a hypocrite for always claiming he was the only one who ever worked, but she always chalked it up to stress. Good old sunshine and daisies Crystal forcing her eyes on the bright side.

Crystal crawled her way to the window as her lips quivered, and her tears fell like light rain onto the vinyl flooring of the bedroom. It felt like she was dragging weights along with her. She shook as she pushed her body up from the floor, ignoring her undeniable weakness. She happily gave it all to that man, and she hated love for it. Love was supposed to be thick even when things were thin. It was supposed to be brawn even when all else was gone. She would have climbed Mt. Everest for her team in summer clothes.

It had felt like she had just done that climb too as she had made it on two feet. Now she finally had a view outside of the window. It occurred to her that she hadn’t even looked out the window in weeks, maybe even months. She was always focused on him; there was never really a time to look. The sight completely changed her mood and put a cork on her tear ducts.

A Blue Jay landed gently on the street sign that stood outside the house. It looked up and down Sycamore St. freely. The sun’s rays felt so good on Crystal this close to the window. The warmth swam down the exposed parts of her body. She couldn’t believe she’d just stopped caring about this; about what was out there.

The snake in the cave, and the lips band eased their way back into focus. She was surprised that she even had a moment like that to herself. Someone on vacation would have had the same ease as her at that moment. Smacking sounds continued faintly as Crystal looked back over at the blue jay. The bird’s face turned slowly, and it seemed as though it was acknowledging her.

Something clicked in her head then. The way that bird had looked at her before it flew off. It wasn’t pity, or disappointment; it was a look of disgust. The fucking bird was disgusted at her. That thought set her over the edge and put the pieces back together on the puzzle board. Her blood boiled as she watched the bird fly off to wherever it wanted.

“Get me another one Crystal and make it quick I’m starving!” Mathew roared to her from across the house.

Crystal's eyebrows sharpened their V and her teeth came together with so much pressure that her mandible and maxilla seemed at war. She looked at one of the corners of the room where she could see a sandwich resting on a paper plate. The bread and its insides arched slightly, making it seem like the damn thing was smiling at her. The smile didn't seem genuine; it seemed offensive to her for some reason. Anger boosted her energy enough for her to rush to the food. She picked it up off the plate and threw it as hard as she could at the bedroom door.

Mustard splattered on the door, and the sandwich fell where Crystal had been holding herself earlier. It looked like a culinary crime scene had occurred. Then Mathew concocted a belch that was emitted from his territory. The door’s muffling abilities seemed to be unsuccessful this time. The belch’s sound squeezed its way through the cracks and crevasses between the door and its trim. A pungent odor even tagged along and revealed itself to Crystal's nose.

“I am waiting Crystal, everything I’ve done for you, don’t know why I can’t just get more when I want more.” Mathew said in frustration.

She closed her eyes and inhaled a breath of survival. She imagined the euphoric possibility of one last time. How sweet would it be to fly away like that Blue Jay. She opened her eyes and found that the sandwich was gone. After shortly searching for its whereabouts, she found it back on the plate, ready to serve like always before. It only knew how to be consumed.

This time she was relieved to pick up the sandwich while it rested in its paper nest. She smiled with the food now, except with contrasting genuine emotions. She walked it to the bedroom door with care, unlocked the chain lock, and twisted the doorknob. Just cracking the door open was revolting; she entered a realm of stench and carelessness. You could feel the thickness of horrid smells that moved around throughout the rest of the home. She was now within proximity of his territory.

Territory was a word that made her chuckle. She couldn't believe at one point in time that they had shared a home in comfort. Why was she stupid enough to let the discomfort slash her open and creepy crawl inside her wounds for so long? Love was lost long ago, and she had hope hanging by one of her intact fingers. He never loved her! She always had that thought hiding in another room like she was used to. It’s hard to take a step back and see the facts displayed.

As she rounded the hallway corner into the living room, she found Mathew sitting on his recliner. He breathed like he was hooked up to a hidden microphone on a gameshow. You win a free six-month trial of Ozempic! The man was obese, but he looked like he had gained another fifty pounds from when she last saw him. Which she figured wasn't too long ago; it felt like it wasn't, to her. Crystal’s eyebrows constructed the V shape again, but this time the smile stayed for the party.

“Here you go sweetie,” she said as she walked closer to the dumpster himself. She handed him the plate with the sandwich, and while he took his first couple bites, she continued to speak, “I would like to talk to you about something”.

Every time he took a bite, she could see a dark stain was left on the remaining top piece of bread. He hideously moved his mouth to break down the food for his gullet. Squish, squashing sounds came from his mouth instead of responding to her. They sounded like someone walking on concrete in soaked socks. Crumbs flew outside of his mouth like pieces of infrastructure after the impact of a tank shell. Then he began to lick his lips with his cotton mouth tongue. The snake circled the dirty lips, scavenging for all it could.

The sandwich was halfway gone when he finally replied to her, “What, are you going to clean up my little mess?”

She scanned the mountains of crumbs on the tan carpeted landscape below the Jabba the Hutt descendent. Her half-mooned lips leveled out flat, "No, that's what I'm here to talk about. I'm leaving right now Mathew.”

His face shifted slickly like he was coated with whatever was in his mouth staining the bread. He looked directly at her and said, “But I need you”.

She felt her skin form goosebumps. Was that power she was feeling? She hadn’t felt it in so long. “You don’t need me”, she said with intentions of worrying Mathew. She hoped he could really see how much he took her for granted.

He looked like a Neapolitan mastiff as he expressed sadness with puppy eyes, “I need you to feed me.”

Her left eyebrow dropped a quarter inch in confusion,” you don’t need me to make a sandwich, you idiot!”

His discolored teeth showed themselves as he began to smile. Crystal became concerned by the look Mathew had on his face. She wondered what evil he had up his sleeve. “What? What is it?”, Mathew had pulled the one and only uno reverse card on Crystal. Her goosebumps were about to be present for a completely different reason now.

“I don’t eat sandwiches Crystal”, his teeth did not close their curtains, “I never have.”

Her eyes widened, stretching their limits. Then she discovered what the sandwich really was, and what the sandwiches had always been. Tickly, tickly trauma can do so much work to hide reality. She only had six fingers intact, and the remaining were separated on each hand. four lived happily on the left and two on the right. She could feel chunks missing all around her entire body. How was she even still cursed with being alive?

That oil she saw changed in hue, and it was clearly red. Blood was all over the monstrous Mathew Tilman; it was even glazed on his smile. She was the sandwich he always needed and used for his hunger. He picked up the nub of an index finger and took a little bite. It was small not because of the size of the food, but how much he enjoyed the taste. The decadent flavor of peasantry and hopelessness was why he salivated from his lips to his chin.

Mathew finished what was left of the pointer as Crystal stared off into space. Shock and defeat went into a stampede in her broken mind. Mathew looked at her and replied to her sudden change, “You don’t have your family, your friends haven’t talked to you in years, and you don’t even go outside!”, he chuckled, “I might be a fat fucking slob, but you sure as hell are not a blue jay my love.”

She thought about it for a second. Could she still fly away, or was she stuck in the nest? Could she ever fly away?

“I’ll be hungry again soon sweetie pie”, he laughed loudly. It was so loud that it sounded like other Mathews were laughing in different areas of his home.

Crystal kept her zombie like facial expressions and walked back through the hallway. She heard another vulgar belch as she opened her bedroom door again. Once the door closed, her back magnetized to the door itself. She dropped to her ass, held her legs tightly, and peered over her knees at the window. A streak of “mustard” was spread down the door now rather than a splatter. Well, it was blood.