Faint of Heart or Feint of Heart

She told me she loved me, but only after I said those words first.

I stood in disbelief at the church where she invited me to her wedding. She asked me to arrive in a tuxedo. She stated she would be wearing white. I thought A. She delivered B.

“It will never last.” I told her.

“It was never meant to.” She replied.

Weeks passed into months. Months never made it to years. She was free by Spring.

This meant she was looking for adventure.

I, however, was looking for investors. My ideas began to bloom as well as tulips and azaleas. All I required was financing.

All she required was a place to invest divorce capital.

Despite my reservations, I accepted her offer and she became the most vocal silent partner in the history of business.

Despite her machinations and impediments, I became (one of) the most successful entrepreneurs in the tri-state area.

That is until I offered to take her to dinner to celebrate our one year business anniversary. After she feasted, she revealed her intentions to sell her part of the business to my rival, effectively making me financially impotent.

“The way I want my men.” It was the last sentence I heard her speak as I paid the bill and departed for greener pastures.

Six years passed until I heard from her again. A traffic collision caused her to lose both kidneys. She arose every morning adhering to a strict diet and an even stricter regime of afternoon dialysis treatments. I wondered if I should send my condolences.

I didn’t have to wonder for long.

Her messenger arrived at my new residence bearing an offer worthy of reading. She wanted me to test for compatibility for organ donation. I sat aghast, waiting to discover a hidden reality show camera operating or a Publisher’s Clearing House crew arriving. Neither transpired. I made a few inquiries confirming the validity of the correspondence. I neither wanted to address the issue nor comply with the request. When dealing with her, it is best to have all questions answered, notarized, legally addressed, and sealed with blood.

However, the $750,000 check made my apprehensions easier to dispel.

I awoke from the surgery with a residual salt taste from remnants of sodium pentothal. The nurse laughed when she heard me continue my pre-op countdown knowing I responded to the anesthesia in the same way millions before me had. After informing the doctor of my condition, I continued my plans on how I was to spend my tax-free bounty.

She, on the other hand, did not fare as well as I. She did not awaken within the usual time frame as complications set in. By the end of the day, I was informed that she would never awaken. Between her fever and an allergy to the anti-rejection meds, the doctors felt it best to place her in a medically induced coma for the time being.

That was two years ago.

I stopped visiting just after a month. I was paid for my service and my kidney and under the circumstances, felt no obligation to continue a relationship with her. I invested my money in my new business and found a plethora of clients willing to reciprocate.

Thus, I became rich.

Thus, I could finally retire.

Thus, I had time on my hands.

Unfortunately, with this time, came thoughts of her.

I did my research and found she had died and was buried in the Lawn Memorial Cemetery.

I had to pay my respects.

Upon arriving, I found her grave stone desecrated and her burial site overgrown. I spoke to management and offered to pay the monthly service fee to keep it presentable. It was the least I could do, consider the circumstances.

When I returned, the site looked immaculate. I felt a sense of both pride and relief that she could no longer do what she did best.

Until I scrutinized her marker.

It read that she had died the day before her surgery, not the day of.

I went to the office to clear up the matter. I spoke with a young man, not the woman from before, and told him of my concern. He indicated that no woman worked at the cemetery and wondered if I was in the correct place. I asked him to confirm my monthly payment to maintain the grave site. He indicated he had no such record of a monthly payment. I called my credit card company and they told me they had suspended my credit card account for fraudulent activity.

It was her. It had to be her. Only she would act in such a personal manner.

And now two can.

I purchased some

thumb tacks today

to hang

my fractions

of time

Attached by

thick red

string

and blood

soaked

cadmium

Inspired by

true crime

and Goya

Raygun

snapshots of

this life

deconstructed

and dismantled

until the victims

all look the same

a collage of

emotional

Man Ray

a psychological

mural of

Monet