Deluge | Teen Ink

Deluge

November 21, 2013
By DanielLim BRONZE, McDonough, Georgia
DanielLim BRONZE, McDonough, Georgia
1 article 0 photos 0 comments

Today marks the one year anniversary of our marriage. She was the last thing on my mind before I fell asleep and the first thing on my mind as I woke up to begin the day. Clothes and empty bottles scattered across the cramped room. No sign of her ever being here. “What a mess,” I thought. Years ago the old me would’ve had a disgusted look upon his face staring at this place I call home. Years ago I would’ve had to repeatedly lock the door and unlock the door and lock the door and unlock the door just to make sure it was working correctly. Years ago I would’ve triple checked everything to be certain that everything was in the correct place . This all changed the one time I decided to step into a bakery.
I remember seeing her for the first time at a small bakery. I ran inside to seek shelter from the relentless downpour, and as I took one step inside I closed the door then opened the door then closed it once more. I turned around to see a girl smiling as she saw me from across the room. This was odd considering women usually have a bewildered look when watching me conduct my habits, but not her. I didn’t make much of it. I went to look for a table to wait the storm out, but the bakery was packed with people who had the same idea as I. There appeared to be only two seats left -- and had I picked the wrong seat, who knows how my life would have turned out. I chose the seat beside the girl who first laid eyes on me as I walked into the bakery.
* * * * * * * * * * *
“Excuse me, may I steal this seat?” were the first words I said to her.
She laughed and said “Sure but you might not want to ask the owner that.”
I grinned. She seems nice I thought. I opened my backpack and pulled out a zip lock bag containing one of my favorite books, Of Mice and Men. Never have I left the house without this treasure. Who knows how many times I’ve read this book, dissecting every single line.

Behind me I hear the words “Books ain't no good. A guy needs somebody to be near him. A guy goes nuts if he ain't got nobody. Don't make no difference who the guy is, as long as he's with you. I tell ya, I tell ya a guy gets too lonely and he gets sick.”
* * * * * * * * * * *
A smile grew upon my face. This one phrase was the birth of a storm of conversations between the two of us.

I walked around the apartment pacing back and forth and back and forth thinking about what to do. I don’t remember much of what occurred in the past few days. Stupid hangover. I wondered where my wife was so I decided to call her. I put the numbers in and hit call. “The number you have dialed is no longer in service, plea....” I hung up. A wave of thoughts began to bombard my head. Where did she go? Who was she with? The thought of her leaving me and being with someone else began to engulf me. That person won’t treat her right! He won’t care about her the way I do. He won’t make certain that every hug, every kiss is perfect. He won’t... I stopped. I lie on the floor to recollect my thoughts. I decided to go for a walk to clear my foggy mind. I grabbed my backpack, ran out the house, and shut the door once. As I walked along the sidewalk, I tried to figure out what I had forgotten. I walked around for hours passing by that special bakery which shut down a year ago when the owner died. Then it hit me. I sprinted across the street trying my best to evade death once more. Adrenaline rushing through my veins, and thoughts rushing through my mind: How could I forget!
* * * * * * * * * * *
I finally reached my destination. Salinas Cemetery. I walked past the deteriorating tomb stones until I reached one in particular. A deluge of tears fell down my face as I read, Susie Safford. I fell to my knees, and it all came rushing back to me. I realized what I’d been trying to remember all day. My wife recently died in a car crash on her way to work at the hospital. I was asked not to come to the funeral or burial of my own wife by her father. He never liked me. As I sat there on the tombstone I noticed something written on the tombstone. “I got you to look after me, and you got me to look after you, and that's why. To the love of my life, Nicolaus Safford.” I smiled. I reached into my backpack and took out an ancient, captivating book. I started reading “A few miles south of Soledad,..”


The author's comments:
I was inspired by watching a poetry contest where a man had OCD. How he dealt with it when a girl entered his life intrigued me. I hope people see the amount of work I put into this short story.

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