Tell Me

My hardest interview question is "Tell me what happened." Someone always wants to know the story of the night I became a murderer. The why and how. Sometimes I think pure morbid curiosity allows me to sit in the chair across from them. I don't get called back. "It's not up to me." They say.

I don't mind the question. I've told the story too many times. I've lived through the night over and over again for more than twenty years. I don't like the question, because the story becomes a game of justification. I don't lie about it, but I have to explain the why so they understand. I have to give an excuse where "sorry" doesn't cut it.

I always lose eye contact. I find a spot and explain it to the spot. The interviewer always sympathizes with me. Tells me they don't blame me. Tells me about their own abusive relationship. Tells me they would have done the same thing. How they almost have done the same thing. How close they were to being me.

Then they never call. These almost murderers working a job I'd prefer to be doing. These people who now have my story inside of them. I wonder if it festers inside of them the way it festers inside of me. My toughest interview question will always be the one that keeps me from becoming more than my resume.