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Down in the Dirt magazine (v089)
(the December 2010 Issue)

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Chokehold

Nicholas Conley

    She’s sticking her fingers down her throat again.
    I’ve dated Linda for four years now. When you know someone that long, you develop a sixth sense about their actions. I know when she’s lying. I know when something’s about to go wrong. However, I deny the dirty little truth to myself. I’ll deny it even when the truth is as plain and in my face as a sucker punch.
    I’ve been sitting on the computer for half an hour, while Linda’s supposedly cleaning our bedroom. She wanted to be alone. I want to trust her. God, I’d love to trust her. I love the woman and I want to give her the personal space she craves.
    But how can I let her have space when I know that if she’s alone, she’s going to look in the mirror? She’s going to look at her gorgeous, full figure and spit on it. She’ll try to rip off her own stomach. She’ll burst into tears as she flips through all those magazines on her dresser, filled with pictures of the bony, angular women that she idolizes.
    Then she’s going to purge herself again.
    I’m trying to focus on my term paper but my mind is too distracted. I’m waiting for Linda to come out and prove my suspicions wrong. I want to run into the bedroom and take her into my arms. Tell her how beautiful she is and maybe, for once, she’d actually believe me.
    However, out of some skewed idea of loyalty, I can’t go in there. No matter how much I want to save her, she has to be free to make her own mistakes. I’m her lover, not her guardian angel. Unfortunately, my trust in her is cracked. I wish I could be strong and somehow convince her to stop. Hell, I’d settle for at least being able to walk away if she didn’t stop.
    I can’t, though. I’m too hopelessly in love. I’d tear into myself before I ever tore into her.
    The computer screen has gone black. I bite my fingernails. Another 30 minutes passes by. I’m about to explode. Linda’s voice calls out to me.
    “Hey Anthony, come look at this!”
    I almost leap from my chair. I reassert myself quickly; I can’t let her know my suspicions. I have to be careful. I have to tread on glass.
    I walk into the room and she’s sitting on the floor, legs crossed. The room is actually cleaned up. She looks full of life, as healthy as when I first met her. A wave of relief flows over me. How could I have doubted her?
    “Hey, beautiful,” I say with a smile.
    “You remember this photo? I thought I’d lost it.”
    I look at the photo, then at Linda. She’s wearing different clothes than she was before. This raises my suspicions, so I glance around the room again. A putrid odor suddenly assaults my nostrils.
    The trashcan has been hidden behind the door.
    “What’s that smell?”
    “I don’t smell anything,” she replies anxiously.
    There’s a paper plate at the top of the trashcan, situated in such a perfect way that it hides everything underneath. That definitely wasn’t there before. I lean down to move the plate.
    “No, don’t!” she cries out.
    I stop, startled by her outburst. My heart isn’t pounding in my chest; it feels sickly and infected. Linda’s face has knotted itself into a blank, guilty expression. There’s no tears, no quivering lip, just a solid sense of mortification. I don’t want to spoil the illusion she’s created and make her more ashamed than she already is...but I have to.
    I take the paper plate out of the trashcan. Sticky, brown-colored vomit drips from its underside.
    I collapse onto the bed. I feel as if I’ve failed her; I should’ve gone into the room sooner. I should’ve done something to stop her. Deep inside, though, I know there’s nothing I could’ve done. The realization of how helpless I really am here only makes it worse.
    Her expression hasn’t changed. She’s terrified that I’m going to call her insane. Scared that I’ll leave her or that I’ll say that I’ve finally had enough. Unfortunately, she’s wrong. I love her too much to walk away. So I’m going to sit with her and pretend everything’s okay. She’s going to promise to me that this was the last time and that she’ll never do it again. I’m going to force myself to believe her lies.
    But it’ll happen again and there’s nothing I can do about it.



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