It’s over between us and here’s why…
A fictional short story by Scott Berchman
Originally published on Medium, June 25, 2016, for The Weekly Knob
You were my first.
Do you remember that first night we were together? You held me so tightly. Your hand, so big, just cradled me like I was the most important thing in your life. Love at first sight? I thought it was at the time.
Your eyes locked onto me for what seemed like forever. I could feel the excitement in your touch as your fingers glided up and down my body. You were so gentle and so delicate as you pushed in on me, over and over. I swear it went on for hours, late into the night. You barely spoke to me but watching the light of the television flicker in your face I knew, or at least I hoped, that this was going to be something special.
There are still nights where I’ll lie next to you, “tangled in sheets” as they say, watching you sleep. The exhilaration builds in my core as I think about what’s going to happen in the morning; you’ll gracelessly reach for me, still half asleep, your hand blindly fumbling around the bed. There’s that one brief instant when you’ll finally make contact with your restlessly reaching fingers. They’ll stop on my skin.
Everything goes still. Everything goes quiet. Everything.
In that moment, you don’t demand anything of me. You just make me feel like I’m something more than I am.
I’m happy.
But now? Those moments are few and far between. Most of the time you make me feel like a paper weight, tossed aside by the nightstand, wide awake and wondering, “What the hell am I going to do with the rest of my life?”
Now, if you even acknowledge my existence, it’s usually a shrill, “Where the hell are you?!”
Not even a simple a simple, “Hello. How was your day?” ever. Why are you so mean? Sometimes I get to sit next to you. More times than not, I’m lucky if I’m any closer than arms reach.
There was that one time your friend came over. You remember that night, don’t you? What was her name…Jill? Jane? Judy? Whatever, I don’t care. It doesn’t matter. I knew something was up when she tried to squeeze on the couch between us. She was so rude. So were you.
What the hell were you two even doing?!
First, she sat on me and didn’t even say she was sorry. Then, oh then, she spilled red wine on me and she apologized…to you! I was stunned, I couldn’t even move. What did you do? As far it came to me, you did nothing.You were more worried about her and the couch then you were me. I’ve never been so angry in my life. You’re so lucky I didn’t completely self destruct. I swear I still have the stains on me.
I’ve seen you on your computer recently. Do you think I’m stupid? I’ve been watching your every move. Are you dating? Are you looking for someone new? Is there someone else?! I can’t even.
You don’t seem to care at all anymore, do you? I do nothing but answer your every order, respond at any given moment! I never ask any questions as to why! And now, how do you repay me when I, beyond even my own control, finally stalled to react to your orders?
You hit me. YOU HIT ME.
I don’t know what to say. I don’t know what to do. I wish you were smart enough to respect me. I wish you were kind enough to love me. I wish you would simply change my batteries.
I’m over you.
Sincerely, your TV remote control.
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Check out all my writing at my personal: https://medium.com/scott-berchman
