No Good at Loving You

(CW: Graphic violence, Murder, Language, Crude humor, sexual content.)

Dear Jess,

I’ll never forget the text message you sent me a few days ago, saying simply, I have feelings for someone else. We’re done! When I read those words, I had no idea how much it would profoundly change my life. The warmth of knowing your love meant everything to me. It was like a thousand suns. Now, there is nothing but cold darkness.

I gave you all I had and still fell short. All this emotional wreckage might be the end of me yet. How can I find the words that linger in my broken soul? I suppose the answer could be found in your phone because my text messages have fallen on blind eyes, and my voice messages have no doubt joined the deleted archive club, where they will be automatically deleted after thirty days.

Why won’t you respond?

You had plenty to say this past weekend. We had so much fun at the Forest Festival, I didn’t think anything could remove the smile from your face. There were hundreds of people playing games and riding the rides, but in our reality, we were the only ones who existed.

I slipped the Ferris wheel operator fifty bucks to stop us at the top. I’ll never forget the look on your face when you thought we were stuck. That look of worry was quickly erased when I pulled out your engagement ring. As tears filled your eyes, and your sweet voice cracked, I smiled when you said, "Yes."

When I drove you home to your art studio, the conversation was about the future. Our future. I tasted your nicotine-flavored lips with a soft kiss goodnight and thought everything was good. Was I mistaken? Maybe I was. I suppose I can finally admit to you that your smoking habit always bothered me. I loved your strengths and weaknesses the same, so it was something I could overlook.

I wonder what happened to you that night? Did the thoughts of uncertainty scare you? Was it something I did or didn’t do? I don’t know, because you won’t talk to me. My only option is to write you this letter and put it in your mailbox.

I remember the first time we met. You had placed an ad in the Mountaineer Gazette about personalized portraits. I wanted a painting of my parents, so I called your number, and we set up a meeting at your studio. I almost tripped a half-dozen times on the open cans of paint thinner and other chemicals you had lying around the concrete floor. The white plastered walls looked like a million rainbows. I had never seen so many colors on display like that before. It was beautiful.

When I showed you the picture of my parents, you placed a cigarette between your lips, lit it, and said that you could do it. No problem. I nodded and laughed. You asked me what was so funny. I pointed to all the flammable cans and asked if you were ever afraid of burning the place down. Your answer was swift.

Nope. All things burn in time.

I never told you this, but those words sparked the embers in my heart. The flames of love burned within me like a raging forest fire.

Our first date was silly at best. Do you remember it? We met up at Antonio’s Pizza Parlor on Wilkes Street and shared a plate of garlic pasta. The smell of Italian spices tickled our noses, but you were insistent on having one plate to save money. You told me artists were always rubbing pennies together, so I didn’t mind.

Later that night, we went back to your studio and made love. Well, sort of. You pushed my head between your legs, and as I explored your delicate folds, you moaned until the stars exploded. I wanted to go further, but you lit up a smoke and made it perfectly clear that our lovemaking session was over. You were always such a tease. Looking back on that now, I realize that was your way of keeping me coming back for more.

The following months were like a whirlwind. We went out more and more, and soon, a special bond formed. My love for you was unbreakable. I thought you felt the same, but I guess things in life are never certain.

I remember meeting your mother. She was a hoot. Your dad had passed away several years ago, but she kept her witty sense of humor. She said that you had a great man on your hands and you shouldn’t let me get away. So, what happened?

My parents would have loved you. As you know, they died in a horrible car accident when I was a child. That’s why I commissioned you to paint their portrait. I can picture my mother giving you one of her heartfelt hugs and my dad pinching your cheeks. They would have been proud of me for finding a good woman.

I’m sorry for all this reminiscing. For me, these things are still fresh and alive. Not all the broken pieces have fallen yet. I keep wondering who this mystery guy is. Who do you have feelings for?

My thoughts have been like a psycho killer stalking me through a back alley. I can’t escape the realization that our relationship is dead.

I suppose it doesn’t matter who this guy is. It’s not like I will find him and beat his lights out. I know I’m Pete “The Brawler” Dempsey, world heavyweight boxing champion, but what would that accomplish in the end? Nothing.

All those times you stood in my corner watching me take a beating. I know that was hard, but you stayed by my side the entire time. You watched me climb to the top from nothing. Why have you abandoned me now, in what has become the greatest bout of my life?

Was it the drinking? I could stop in an instant if that would make you happy. It couldn’t be the money. You still work out of that old art studio, which is a fire hazard to say the least. I offered to buy you a new place, but you turned me down. My mind is all over the place.

So, you have feelings for someone else. I get it. I failed you somehow. The only thing I have left right now is this bottle of whiskey. The money, fame, and fortune mean nothing without you.

Make no mistake…I can’t forgive you for this. My heart is beating out of my chest. I hate you. Yes, you heard me correctly…I HATE you. You used my love as a dagger and stabbed me in the back. All this time, I thought we had something special. I never knew you could be so cruel. You don’t even have the respect and dignity to talk to me. Ghosting someone is not cool!

I should warn you that this love letter is mixed with whiskey and lacquer thinner. I thought the smell would appeal to your senses. I know how you love a good cigarette, so I wouldn’t light a match if I were you when you read this. I wouldn’t want your studio to burn to the ground.

Perhaps I should have started out with that, but oh well…I’m not rewriting this.

Maybe I’m no good at loving you…but that doesn’t matter anymore. All things burn in the end, right?

-Pete

***

A few days earlier….

“Are you sure you want to go through with this?”

Jess lowered her green eyes and said, “Yes, Keba. Pete’s love is so intense, I don’t think I can take it anymore.”

Keba looked around Antonio’s Pizza Parlor to make sure no one was listening. With a soft voice, he whispered, “I understand that, but why do we have to kill him?”

“You don’t know him like I do. He will never stop trying to win me back.”

Jess licked her lips and took a sip of wine. The restaurant was slow for a Monday night. The spices filled her nostrils as she waited for her garlic pasta to go. This was a delicate meeting after all, so there was no time for pleasantries.

“What is it?” Keba asked. “Having second thoughts?”

A lopsided grin filled Jess’s face. “Not a chance in Hell. That dumb fuck actually thought I was going to marry him. How could I marry a man who trains in the boxing gym all day and drinks himself to sleep every night? I need attention too!” She paused and twitched her fingers. The craving for a cigarette was like a dehydrated man lost in the desert, praying for a bottle of cold water. “Damn, I need a smoke!”

Keba pointed to the non-smoking sign at their table and smiled. “Well, what can you do?”

Jess stood from the table and screeched, “I can go outside for one thing!”

“No, please stay for a bit longer,” Keba pleaded. He grabbed her hand and rubbed her index finger with his thumb. His touch eased her anxiety.

“Fine, I’ll stay,” she said, giving in to his hush-puppy hazel eyes. She knew there was a reason she loved him. His passion wasn’t overwhelming—it was slow and steady.

“Good,” he said with a nod. “Now, listen… We have to make it look like an accident. I think we should lure him to the West Side Bridge and toss him over when he least expects it. The cops will think he was drunk and stumbled over the edge. It’s perfect!”

“Yeah, but how will we get him there?”

“That’s easy,” Keba explained. “First, you need to break it off and not contact him for several days. This will drive him nuts and send him straight for the bottle. Then, you give in and tell him that you want to meet at the bridge to talk. He will be so desperate he’ll be there without question.”

“I like it. Plus, the cops will be fooled. Why would I kill Pete if I already broke up with him? It really is the perfect plan.”

“So, how are you going to break up with him?” Keba asked, narrowing his eyes.

Jess reached into her purse and pulled out her phone. Slowly and methodically, she texted: I have feelings for someone else. We’re done!

“Oh, I love it,” Keba beamed. “Now, our plan is in motion. In a few days, Pete will meet his maker, and you’ll never have to worry about him again. We can be together in peace.”

“Thank God!” Jess smirked. “Now let’s get out of here. I need to smoke!”

***

A couple of days later, Pete purchased three bottles of whiskey from Drink’s A Lot liquor store to drown his sorrows, and saw Jess and Keba kissing in the back parking lot.

This was the guy she had feelings for?!

“What a downgrade!” Pete rumbled.

Pete climbed into his black truck and watched his former fiancée play tonsil hockey with a soon-to-be dead man. His hate burned hotter than Hell itself. His thoughts were filled with a scarlet haze that blinded his sensibility. He quickly drank one bottle and smiled when Jess waved goodbye to Keba and walked away with a shit-faced grin plastered on her face. Little did she know it would be the last time she would ever lay eyes on him.

The hour was late when Pete stumbled out of his truck. He made a mad zombie dash toward Keba’s red Corvette and smashed his window in before the engine could spark to life. The look in Keba’s eyes spoke volumes. Seeing the man he planned to throw off a bridge was almost ironic.

No one was around to witness the carnage, which made Pete happy. He wasted little time and smashed his empty whiskey bottle across Keba’s face and laughed when the blood flowed from his nose like a fountain. The broken bottle was now a sharp, jagged weapon hungry for death.

Keba reached for his phone. He had to warn Jess. She needed to know that her ex was a killer. The facial scan did not recognize Keba because his face was mangled and broken. He wanted to curse, but his upper molars were stuck in his esophagus.

As Keba coughed to clear his throat, Pete stabbed the broken whiskey bottle into his jugular and watched all the life drain from his terrified eyes.

“You should have never fucked with my girl!” Pete growled.

***

Later that night, Pete opened Jess’s blue mailbox and placed his letter inside. After a deep breath, he closed the lid and walked back to his black truck that was parked in a nearby alleyway. He made himself comfortable and kept his eyes locked on the art studio. There was one bottle of whiskey left, so he opened it and drank his fill. He knew Jess would be home soon and didn’t want to miss the fireworks.

Without warning, a slender woman wearing blue jeans and a navy sweater walked past the alleyway. Her eyes were fixed on her phone, and her fingers were scrolling up and down. It was Jess!

Pete ducked in his seat for fear of her seeing him, but she didn’t notice. He was in the clear. Something had her attention. “Maybe you’re finally reading my text messages or wondering what happened to your dead boyfriend!” Pete chuckled.

He kept his eyes locked on Jess and smiled when she opened the mailbox. She pulled the envelope out and flipped it over a couple of times. She crinkled her forehead because the letter was blank. “Where did this come from?” she grumbled.

As Jess unlocked the studio door and slammed it behind her, Pete cracked a devilish grin. “Yes! That’s it. Now that I’ve got her attention with that blank envelope, she’ll have to open it to read my letter. All I have to do now is wait.”

Another hour went by with Pete sitting patiently in his truck. His stomach was twisting into knots. He was sure that Jess would open the letter and need a cigarette, but what was taking so long?

Jess opened her fridge and pulled out a white Styrofoam package. Inside were leftover garlic noodles, which she ordered the other day after meeting with Keba. She wasted little time in devouring them. Feeling full, she pulled back on her cigarette and blew out a thick stream of smoke. The blank envelope lying on the counter caught her eye like a diamond shining in a dark cave.

She snuffed out her bad habit and opened the white correspondence. She knew right away who it was from—Pete. How can he be so arrogant and annoying?!

Jess read the first few paragraphs and laughed. Pete’s misery was amusing. She grabbed her pack of cigarettes and placed one in her mouth. This was going to be a long read, and she needed something to calm her nerves.

Outside, Pete squirmed in his seat. His heart was beating a mile a minute, and his eyes were beginning to burn. How much longer would he have to wait?

BOOM!

The explosion blew out half the studio’s windows. The fireball engulfed the dark sky above like a radioactive fallout. Pete’s eyes widened. His plan worked, but a surprising revelation filled his broken soul. He was no killer. He wasn’t the bad guy.

“Oh, my God! What have I done?!”

Pete exploded from his truck and ran toward the burning inferno. The flames were hot and hungry. They tried to burn his flesh when he approached the front door. He stilled his body, drew his leg back, and kicked the fiery door down.

“Jess! JESS!”

There was no answer.

Pete held his forearm to his eyes to shield them from the bright flames. He looked around for any sign of his former fiancée, but there was no sign of Jess anywhere. Like a crawling monster slithering in the dark, the fire raced toward several open barrels of paint thinner. Pete knew he had to escape before they blew, so he jumped out of the building as fast as he could.

As the explosion shook the ground, Pete rolled over on the pavement for one last look. He hated Jess for what she did, but he didn’t expect the fire to be so bad.

Suddenly, another explosion shook the foundation like a thousand earthquakes, and before the burning building came tumbling down, Jess flew out of the open doorway dressed in flames. Her skin was burnt like a roasted turkey, and there was nothing left but charcoaled meat hanging from her bones. She found a soft spot to land—on Pete.

She grabbed his throat with her burning hands and squeezed with all the strength she had left. Her vocal cords were seared, but still she screamed nonetheless….

“You did this to me! How bittersweet that we will die together in the end?!”

Pete’s eyes filled with an ocean of boiling tears. His flesh sparked like kindling wood against Jess’s burning carcass. Her final words rocked his soul….

All things burn in time!