They were always warning him not to smoke so late at night, he was always drifting off to sleep with a cigarette still burning between his fingertips and the television still on as the only light in the room.
She had just finished a double shift at work when she got the call, but she wasn’t surprised to hear what had happened.
The distinct sterilized smell of the hospital crept into her nostrils as she entered the room where Trevor was in, which made her feel uneasy.
He was lying on a bed completely wrapped in gauze, she sat down next to him on a cheap plastic chair.
It made an awful noise when she sat down on it, like a dog that got his tail run over by a car.
She turned towards him and he looked like he came straight out of that movie The Mummy she thought to herself.
It is safe to say that after all these years Myrtle still hated him, and as some kind of cruel joke the nurses left the part of his mouth open, and it almost looked like he had that smirk on his face he always had.
She wanted to punch him real badly, but not like this.
And it was possible that the fire had melted part of his smile off, or at least that’s what she told herself.
A nurse stepped into the room and told her that they were going to wake him up from a induced coma, so she left before he woke up.
When she got back home her parents called her to ask how he was doing, they were clearly more worried about him than she was.
They always liked him more than she did, hell they were the one that introduced him to her.
To them he was still the perfect son-in-law, the one she should procreate with.
Her parents kept telling her she should be there for him, and she should come with them to the hospital so they could be together as a family, but she refused wholeheartedly.
“No! I wont, let him find someone else.”, She yelled into the telephone right before hanging up.
Her response made her sound like a small child not getting it’s way in a toy store, which she actually enjoyed for this once.
The following weeks her parents went to see Trevor every single day, and when Trevor was released from the hospital they took him back to his house, her mother offered to help him with anything but he refused.
Her mother told her over the telephone that he had lost the two fingers in which he held the cigarette, burn beyond recognition she said. Like two small twigs thrown into a campfire Myrtle imagined.
Kum Bay Ya
Walking home one day carrying her groceries she bumped into him, he thanked her for coming to visit him, and she nodded in return.
Even though he had burns all over his body he still managed to attract the birds, he liked receiving their pity love, he clearly hadn’t changed one bit.
Same smirk on his face, same walk, same talk.
Just like when they used to be together his attention would hop from booty to their conversation and back to the occasional rack that passed them by.
They talked for a while longer before both going their separate ways.
Later that night her mother called again and told her about how Trevor was struggling to go back to his normal way of living, like before the accident.
She likes to say she forget how she suddenly found herself cleaning his apartment, twice a week, but for money off course.
Dusting his shelves and vacuum cleaning the floors and sometimes she did his dishes.
It wasn’t until she started to clean his apartment that she noticed how much empty liquor bottles she was finding and throwing out.
Again she knew he was nothing without her.
Things were going well taken the circumstances, they talked a lot and laughed almost just as much as when they were friends.
“Your parents told me all about how you were starting your own business, selling handcrafted jewelry. How’s that going?” Trevor asked while sitting on his new couch that was on the exact same spot as before.
Elbow deep in soap water and bubbles she answered, “Rough but I’m selling my things online right now, I hope to open a store some day.”
“Remember you made me that belt buckle for me? Check it!” He yelled while lifting his groin up in the air and revealing that he was still wearing the belt.
“That’s nice.”, She replied while scrubbing food remains of a dish.
There was a long silence that only from time to time got interrupted by the commercials on TV.
“I miss you.”, He said out of the blue.
She looked at herself in the reflection in the window in front of her, and decided not to answer to it.
Later that night Trevor called her to wish her goodnight, “Before you hang up, I got to tell you something.”, He said.
“What is it.”, She exhaled into the telephone.
He had practiced his last words a couple of times before calling, they were inspired by his own father’s last words, “My father used to say. Son, find yourself a girl that does yoga. It’s why I knew you were the one.”, Trevor said followed by a soft nervous laugh.
“I smell something burning. My ratatouille!” She yelled abandoning the phone and running to the kitchen to save her meal.
Trevor knew enough and his suicide that involved a ballpoint pen, a coaster and some yarn was a success, the same couldn’t be said about Myrtle’s ratatouille.
She had just finished a double shift at work when she got the call, but she wasn’t surprised to hear what had happened.
The distinct sterilized smell of the hospital crept into her nostrils as she entered the room where Trevor was in, which made her feel uneasy.
He was lying on a bed completely wrapped in gauze, she sat down next to him on a cheap plastic chair.
It made an awful noise when she sat down on it, like a dog that got his tail run over by a car.
She turned towards him and he looked like he came straight out of that movie The Mummy she thought to herself.
It is safe to say that after all these years Myrtle still hated him, and as some kind of cruel joke the nurses left the part of his mouth open, and it almost looked like he had that smirk on his face he always had.
She wanted to punch him real badly, but not like this.
And it was possible that the fire had melted part of his smile off, or at least that’s what she told herself.
A nurse stepped into the room and told her that they were going to wake him up from a induced coma, so she left before he woke up.
When she got back home her parents called her to ask how he was doing, they were clearly more worried about him than she was.
They always liked him more than she did, hell they were the one that introduced him to her.
To them he was still the perfect son-in-law, the one she should procreate with.
Her parents kept telling her she should be there for him, and she should come with them to the hospital so they could be together as a family, but she refused wholeheartedly.
“No! I wont, let him find someone else.”, She yelled into the telephone right before hanging up.
Her response made her sound like a small child not getting it’s way in a toy store, which she actually enjoyed for this once.
The following weeks her parents went to see Trevor every single day, and when Trevor was released from the hospital they took him back to his house, her mother offered to help him with anything but he refused.
Her mother told her over the telephone that he had lost the two fingers in which he held the cigarette, burn beyond recognition she said. Like two small twigs thrown into a campfire Myrtle imagined.
Kum Bay Ya
Walking home one day carrying her groceries she bumped into him, he thanked her for coming to visit him, and she nodded in return.
Even though he had burns all over his body he still managed to attract the birds, he liked receiving their pity love, he clearly hadn’t changed one bit.
Same smirk on his face, same walk, same talk.
Just like when they used to be together his attention would hop from booty to their conversation and back to the occasional rack that passed them by.
They talked for a while longer before both going their separate ways.
Later that night her mother called again and told her about how Trevor was struggling to go back to his normal way of living, like before the accident.
She likes to say she forget how she suddenly found herself cleaning his apartment, twice a week, but for money off course.
Dusting his shelves and vacuum cleaning the floors and sometimes she did his dishes.
It wasn’t until she started to clean his apartment that she noticed how much empty liquor bottles she was finding and throwing out.
Again she knew he was nothing without her.
Things were going well taken the circumstances, they talked a lot and laughed almost just as much as when they were friends.
“Your parents told me all about how you were starting your own business, selling handcrafted jewelry. How’s that going?” Trevor asked while sitting on his new couch that was on the exact same spot as before.
Elbow deep in soap water and bubbles she answered, “Rough but I’m selling my things online right now, I hope to open a store some day.”
“Remember you made me that belt buckle for me? Check it!” He yelled while lifting his groin up in the air and revealing that he was still wearing the belt.
“That’s nice.”, She replied while scrubbing food remains of a dish.
There was a long silence that only from time to time got interrupted by the commercials on TV.
“I miss you.”, He said out of the blue.
She looked at herself in the reflection in the window in front of her, and decided not to answer to it.
Later that night Trevor called her to wish her goodnight, “Before you hang up, I got to tell you something.”, He said.
“What is it.”, She exhaled into the telephone.
He had practiced his last words a couple of times before calling, they were inspired by his own father’s last words, “My father used to say. Son, find yourself a girl that does yoga. It’s why I knew you were the one.”, Trevor said followed by a soft nervous laugh.
“I smell something burning. My ratatouille!” She yelled abandoning the phone and running to the kitchen to save her meal.
Trevor knew enough and his suicide that involved a ballpoint pen, a coaster and some yarn was a success, the same couldn’t be said about Myrtle’s ratatouille.
