Niteblade – March 2009

“I’m hungry, are you hungry? Let’s order. The service is so slow here.” Melanie waved at the nearest waitress. She ordered a bagel with cream cheese. Jerrod only got coffee. A bad sign. Jerrod always ate a big breakfast. The waitress took all of thirty seconds to fetch their orders.

“Yeah, so, really strange dreams. Every night for the last week or so.” Melanie made a big show of spreading the cream cheese on her bagel, taking her time, forcing Jerrod to wait for her to finish and look up. “They are always sort of the same. Sometimes I’m me in them, but sometimes I’m something else, something big and black. It’s bigger than me, even though it’s still me, and it makes me do things. It hurts people and I can’t stop it. It’s not the same people every time. A couple nights ago it was Eddie Vedder. Remember him? Pearl Jam? Remember when it was cool to hate Pearl Jam? People called him Eddie Cheddar. Why would I dream about him? Weird. That was back when Seattle was all like, ‘we invented grunge, we rule’. Portland had just as much of a ’scene’ as Seattle, but everyone was like, ‘it’s a Seattle sound.’ I think Alice in Chains came from here though, and they were way better.”

“Melanie.” Jerrod made no attempt to hide the heavy sigh in his voice.

“But last night it was my mom. I haven’t had a dream about my mom in forever. I mean, not since I was a kid. But in this dream the thing eats her and then me. Yes, I know, that’s weird that it eats me and it is me. But anyway, we’re both sitting inside of it talking. We talk a long time, but I can’t remember what about. I do remember she asked me if I was keeping warm. Here we are sitting inside the stomach of a big monster and she’s worried if I’m dressing warm enough.”

“I really think—” Now his voice began to betray his irritation.

“You were in one too.” That was a lie, a final desperation shot. But Melanie was fighting for her romantic life. She felt like she could be forgiven a little deception in the name of the greater good.

Jerrod didn’t take the bait. “Melanie, I’m sure your dreams are very interesting. But I asked you to meet me for a reason.”

Here it comes. Melanie gave in and looked him in the eye. He didn’t look sad, just tired. When he had her attention, he said, “This isn’t about you, just so you know, this is about me. I don’t think we’re right for each other. It’s been building for a long time, and I just need to be honest before it gets even worse for both of us.”

Melanie dropped her sugar packet, and her leg stopped bouncing. “Just to be straight, you’re breaking up with me?”

To his credit, Jerrod didn’t evade. He just nodded. Melanie wasn’t sure where to go next. She looked down at the table again, but the only thing there was her cold bagel. It remained silent and unhelpful. She forced herself to look up again. “But did you actually say, ‘It isn’t you, it’s me?’ Do people really say that? Isn’t that a sitcom joke or something?”

Jerrod deflated a little, his wide shoulders drooping. “Please, Melanie, let’s just leave it at that. I need to get going to work, and—”

“No! You’re dumping me and you owe me a why. ‘It’s not you it’s me’ is not a why, it’s a fucking dodge. It’s…” she waved her hands around, “It’s dodgy! That’s what it is. You owe me more than that.”

Jerrod slumped back in his chair, panning his gaze around the rest of the diner. He’s checking to see if we’re making a scene, Melanie thought. He’s ripping my heart out and stomping on it, and he’s more worried about being embarrassed. I rate somewhere below embarrassment.

Finally he said, “Look, we’re just two very different people. You’re a…” He paused to look for the right word, “free spirit. I’m different. I need some degree of organization, structure; I need to depend on the people close to me.”

Melanie sat up suddenly bumping her knee on the bottom of the table. “This is about Gunther! Because I forgot to check on him, and he got hit by that car, and you blame me.”

Jerrod shook his head, “No, this is not about the dog. Well, maybe, in a symptomatic sort of way—”

“I didn’t mean to let him out. It was an accident. A mistake I am very sorry for. I cried all day when Gunther got hit. But to dump me over that seems crazy. I mean, over a dog.” Melanie could hear herself start to babble, but couldn’t make herself stop.

“It’s not about the dog!” Jerrod slammed one thick hand down on the table. Melanie stopped talking, very aware of the silence in the restaurant. When she finally began hearing the sounds of people going back to their own conversations and meals, she squeaked out an, “Okay.”

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