14 minute read
WELL DONE! Fiction I KNOW YOU by Mandy Haynes
I KNOW YOU by Mandy Haynes
I know you. No, really, I know what you had for breakfast - steel cut oats with cinnamon, they’re not only good, but good for you! And what brand of soap is in your shower; it’s Irish Spring; fresh, invigorating - and which toothpaste you prefer - good old Crest Regular Paste of course. See? Told you.
Listen to this; I know the name of your first pet. It was Bandit, a cute little black and tan dachshund. He was a good friend wasn’t he? The best little dog in the world.
I also know which neighbor poisoned him.
I saw it happen; I was with you when you found him. Oh, what a terrible day that was. I heard you crying as you buried him out by the oak tree in your parent’s backyard. I was there, standing right behind you; watching. I wanted to tell you it was Mr. Pritchard who killed him but you weren’t ready to handle something like that back then. You were too young, too nice, too naïve; it would have crushed you. But you’re stronger now aren’t you? You aren’t that sweet, innocent little boy who still believes in Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. No, you’ve grown up a lot in the last year. We can thank you father’s suicide for that, huh?
Sara? Yeah, I know all about your girlfriend. Like the shade of polish she’s wearing on her cute little toes. It’s called Cajun Shrimp by the way. She just had another pedicure, second one this month. Of course she tells you that she only has three or four a year, but I see her going into the salon at least once a week. What, you didn’t know? Seriously? She spends a fortune there; she’s got to keep herself looking great. It’s hard work, looking that good, but it’s worth it. I mean, that is how she gets by, ugly girls have to pay their own bills... Oh, I’m sorry, that was terribly rude of me.
You know, I’ve been trying to tell you about Sara for a while. A little whisper here, nudge there–but you ignored me. Thought you were being a jealous boyfriend. No, son - you were just starting to see the signs. You loved her, I understand. It’s hard to hear that the ones we love are lying, sneaky cheating…. There, there; don’t beat yourself up too bad, because by the time we’re through with Sara, everyone will change their minds about you. Trust me.
No, you’re not going crazy, you’re just starting to pay attention. I mean, really pay attention; finally seeing the signs. Those no good bastards at the office, they think you’re stupid and weak. I know they do, and if you listen close enough, you’ll know they do too. I’ve been listening to them for years–putting you down. Talking about you behind your back. All those times you walked in on them when they were laughing–did you really think they were laughing at the previous night’s episode of South Park? No, son, they were laughing at you. Big old belly laughs at your expense. You didn’t really believe them when they said they were happy about your promotion, did you? No? Good, because none of them thought you deserved it. Not a single one, trust me.
Listen to me; I know.
And while we are on the subject of people thinking you’re stupid, people laughing at you and degrading you, how about that father of yours? What a piece of work, huh? Oh, now don’t get so upset. I’m sorry. I’ll change the subject. But it doesn’t really matter now does it? He’s gone. That old son of a bitch took himself out good, didn’t he? Blew his brains out with one of his precious guns. What a shame, the only thing you two did together was spend time at the shooting range—really the only good memories you have of him—and that’s how he decided to check out.
What a mess he left behind for you….but at least he left you his gun collection. Well, enough about him. Let’s get back to Sara.
How long has it been going on, you ask? Well, let’s see. This little fling has been going on for about a month? What? I’m sorry? Oh, I thought you were ready to hear this. You didn’t know about the others? You thought this was the first time she cheated on you? Well, maybe we should talk about this later. You seem to be getting very upset. I don’t want you to get so distraught. Not yet. I’m sorry, what?
Me? Oh, well–I would rather be heard and not seen. It works best this way, trust me. I’ll let you see me soon enough. What? Oh, well long story. See, most people don’t like the look of me, I make them uncomfortable. Yes, it is very hard for me; how kind of you to notice. I just want to be loved like everyone else. Oh, the cross I have to bear –ha! But seriously, I don’t know why it is so hard for most people, maybe because I remind them of themselves….. They usually turn back into the sniveling, whining babies that they were when I first met them. Why? I have no idea, really. It’s not like I’m a horrible monster, I’m actually a nice looking guy even if I do say so myself—no cloven hooves or anything crude like that! Ha! I crack myself up. I am a pretty funny guy. What, you think so? Thanks. Maybe it’s time to take my act out on the road, give stand up another try. Now there are some funny stories I’ll tell you. Nothing like being on the road with those self-destructive, strung out big boys, it was as easy as taking candy from a baby. What? Oh, never mind, I’ll tell you about that later.
What about Sara? Well, she was sleeping with your neighbor. No way–have you not been listening? No, I’m not kidding. Stan. Yes, Stan Goodman. Well, his wife got suspicious and nipped that in the bud. I know, I know. It’s hard to imagine, but think back to last summer. Remember the cookout? How Sara was bragging on his cooking, how she kept on going on and on about the landscaping? Yes, it was subtle but If you had been paying more attention you would have noticed. Sara is no rooky; she knows what she’s doing. She couldn’t care less about his stupid lawn. Trust me, she was just letting him know that she was his if he wanted her. Did you think those hamburgers were all that great? They weren’t anything special; think about it. I thought they looked like pieces of charcoal. Way overcooked. I always liked my hamburgers rare myself.
Then it was Mark in the mailroom at your office. Mark, you know–the guy with the dreadlocks who is always wasted. YES! Sara and Mark. He was just a one night fling. Just for fun–she likes to mix things up a little bit. She’s a freak. I know, I was surprised at first, too but it is always the quiet ones, isn’t it? Then Brian. Brian Fulmer. Yeah, that makes a little more sense, you’re right. When? Right before your promotion. Well, of course she dumped Brian when you got the promotion over him. That was the whole point—she thought that he was going to make partner before you. Boy was she surprised! Ha! The look on her face when he told her you beat him out of it! If you could have heard her… oh, I’m sorry. That was pretty insensitive of me. I don’t know what I was thinking. Please, forgive me.
Let’s talk about something else. Something happy. Are you going to see your mother this weekend? Yes? Good, good. I know she’s been missing you. No, really—she has been! Just the other night she got out the old family albums. How she cried and cried. Well, yeah—she cried over your brother’s pictures, but she did look at yours too. I promise. No, she didn’t cry over your baby pictures, but she did cry when she thought of your birthday. It’s coming up; I know how you dread it. This year will be different, though, just you wait and see.
What? Your mother? Oh, she is such a sentimental little thing, isn’t she? Especially when she’s been drinking, and by the way, she’s been drinking a lot lately. A lot. Almost as bad as before. Well, I had hoped this time was going to stick, too; but when you think about it this would be a hard time for her to stay sober, wouldn’t it? The anniversary of your brother’s death so close, and now your father’s suicide. Poor thing. No wonder she cried when she realized that you will be thirty seven on your next birthday! Well, hell—she thought she’d have a least one grand-baby by now. She doesn’t know that Sara is a lying, cheating whore. It’s not her fault that she blames you for not getting married and giving her what she wants, what she needs.
You mother is so hoping that you will have a son; one you will name after her first born, her favorite. What? Oh, what am I doing! Talk about kicking a guy when he’s down. I don’t know what’s come over me. Please, please forgive me for being so inconsiderate. Please accept my apology. Thanks, I’m glad you don’t blame me.
After all, none of this is my fault. I would never, ever, want you to feel bad. I love you. Trust me; I just want you to be happy. As a matter of fact, that is what I wanted to talk to you about tonight. I think it is time you took charge. Time you showed everyone your true colors, made everyone sorry for treating you so bad. Like a fool. Like a stupid, blubbering, coward. That is not the man I know. That is not the man I’m talking to right now, is it? No sir. How do I know? Why am I so sure that you aren’t a fool? Because, son, I know you. I’ve been watching you since the day you were born. I knew then that you were special, someone with guts, the first time I laid eyes on you. Seriously, I did. Don’t act so surprised.
Remember the time your cousin, what was his name? Darrin, Darryl—whatever, it’s not important; he’s gone now. But remember the time he tried to touch you? He wouldn’t stop would he? He made you so uncomfortable that you cried. He just laughed and laughed. He was a big bully, wasn’t he? What a jerk. But you took care of him, didn’t you? I was so proud of you that day. Everyone thought he tripped over his shoe lace, remember? He never tied his shoes, I think that he was too stupid to know how. But I saw you, and he did too. He saw the look in your eyes and he knew. He knew like I knew that you were someone special. Someone to be taken seriously.
When you pushed him down those stairs, I saw you. It could’ve killed him, but you didn’t care. He deserved it. It was a long way down to the concrete floor of the basement and he could have easily broken his neck, but luck was on his side, wasn’t it? He ended up with both of his arms in a cast instead. Ha! No swimming for him that summer! No whacking off either—that was the best part; I think that just about killed him. He was a perverted little bugger, wasn’t he? That’s what did him in, thanks to those brave little boys and girls for turning him in. If you had spoken out, it would have stopped years sooner, but hey, you can only do so much. Anyway, back to our conversation.
What I am trying to say is that you have control of your destiny. Trust me, you can take charge. It is your right. It is only proper; only fair that you show these people that you are not a coward. You are not a coward, are you son? I didn’t think so.
You poor guy, you’ve had so much on your mind lately. What, with a lying whore for a girlfriend, backstabbing coworkers laughing at you behind your back, your neighbors all lying to you, a drunk, pathetic mother blaming you for everything that has gone wrong in her life —well, what can I say? You’ve had a lot to think about. I don’t blame you for your shortcomings, they do, but not me. Trust me.
I think it’s time to take back your life. You could start tonight, with your neighbors. Stan and his wife. Why his wife? Well, she’s been laughing at you, too—late at night when she and Stan are fucking, they are laughing at you. Laughing at your expense. She never really blamed Stan or Sara; I mean who could blame them? They all think you’re such a wimp. Believe it or not Stan’s wife actually felt sorry for Sara. Pisser, isn’t it? But you’ll show them, won’t you?
Then I was thinking it would be time to take care of Sara. You could go by there about midnight tonight. It’s the perfect time, dontcha think? My favorite time of all—the old day passing and the new one about to start. The perfect time for reflection, for a gathering of souls, so to speak. I’ve found that most people can be led around by the nose at midnight; that’s when they do most of their self-doubting, bringing all of their insecurities to the surface and just ask to be led astray—but not me, no sir. It’s my strongest time, and you’re like me, son, strong. You don’t have anything to be insecure about, you are not a wallower. Midnight tonight will be the perfect beginning to a new day–a new you. Don’t you agree?
Sara should’ve just sent Marshall home by then. Marshall? Yeah, she’s been fucking your boss. Let’s see, she’s been fucking him for about a month now. Fucking like there is no tomorrow. Fucking like a bitch in heat. Just fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. Well, I didn’t really want to tell you—I thought that might be too much for you, to hear that Sara will just fuck anybody that comes along but I can see that you’re ready. Ready to hear it all and take care of business. I’m proud of you, son.
Once you’ve taken care of Sara, you’ll go in to work early. Start in the mail room. Get Dreadlocks first. He’ll be so wasted he’ll never even know what’s hit him. Once you’ve taken care of him, work your way up to the top. Save the best for Marshall. That’s when you’ll finally get to use that automatic rifle they way it was intended. Hey! Maybe they’ll all be in the conference room! Wouldn’t that be great? You could call a meeting…what a way to go!
What? You want to see me? All in good time, no need to rush anything now, son. You want to show me that you’re ready? Oh, I know you do. I have faith in you, I believe in you. I am so proud of you, I couldn’t be any more proud if you were my own flesh and blood. Yes, I mean that from the bottom of my heart. I know you’re ready. You are going to prove that to me later tonight, aren’t you?
What is that? Don’t worry son, you will see me soon enough. Oh, you’ll be seeing a lot of me once you’re through. After tonight we’ll practically be one and the same.
I know that for sure.
*This story was previously published in the Nashville Writer’s Horror Anthology. Comfort Foods. The idea for the story came to me after another senseless shooting claimed innocent lives at the shooter’s place of employment. Interviews of the survivors claimed that no one had any idea that the shooter was unhappy, much less violent. He was labeled as mentally ill, but what if there was more to the story? What if the devil made him do it…
