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Do you know who I am? I am the Narrator of this story, and this is how the story goes:
Not everything goes as planned. Loss readily awaits the assembly of premeditated expectations. It is a feral, hungry animal.
Were they hers to keep in the first place?
Pious to the plight. Committed through chaos? Till death does lovers apart.
“Didn’t you hear me, Pen?” Penelope wishes that she hadn’t! Why is it that when they are rearranging the clearance rack for inventory purposes that she has to hear Bridgett spout on so much about her moral righteousness? Penelope doesn’t share her opinion on how she feels about all that, though. For her, it’s just not worth a fight with her best friend, and also her only friend, plus coworker.
“Huh? Yeah, yeah. I heard you.” Couldn’t NOT if she tried.
"Love is important, Penelope! It's the thing that makes the world go 'round!" If love looked anything like the loaded agenda of Mr. Benjamin Franklin, Bridgett might actually have a shot at being right about that.
Penelope’s restraint has finally met its maker. She scoffs at her friend’s rosy and disillusioned claims of what she thinks the majority of people desire most in life. If what Bridgett says is true, then wouldn’t we, as a collective, choose to operate on this planet much differently?
“Yeah, so that's why we sell it for the low price of $19.99 per basket." That’s just like her to say.
"The price doesn't matter! It's the THOUGHT that counts."
"Have you ever given love any thought, Bridgett?"
Her friend finally manages to spark Penelope’s genuine interest, when she witnesses Bridgett in a moment of honest reflection.
"I have once or twice. It usually goes like this: I’m sitting there, right? We’re cuddling on my couch. And I’m on this date with the bottom of my popcorn bowl. He and I are snuggling up close together watching re-runs because the person who actually agreed to the date never showed up..." And it’s gone. Her point’s been validated. That still doesn’t mean Penelope can be too much of a jerk to Bridgett for wanting to play the optimist.
You have a lot to offer people, Bridgett-”
"I crochet." Insert Bridget blurting out her very first thought here.
"So I don't understand why you're single." Truly. Bridgett’s soft and sweet. Despite being a bit of an airhead. Unlike most...
"I just don't understand why most people bother. Why care?"
And it was this thought which came even quicker to Bridgett’s mind: "Maybe I'll discover something new if I keep trying, instead of just accepting the fact that I'll always be met with disappointment. That's how I look at it. Any other way of thinking is just too bleak to bear. And I don’t wanna give up yet! So I gotta keep giving people chances!"
"How many chances does it take, then Bridgett? How many people?"
"Penelope! As many as it takes! THAT’S why I downloaded that new Heart2Heart app last night."
"Oh my gosh, woman, you're so hopeless!"
Penelope starts the car. Her work is over, yet there is more to be done. There are more things needed of her. She can’t help but believe that there will never be an end to the reasons piling up for why she should be spreading herself too thin. Penelope could never say it aloud. Not to any other soul. Not even to herself, in private, for she does not possess the gull to admit what she actually knows to be her reality.
The rattling of the exhaust pipes below the car’s frame shake her seat, and exercise the frustrations held within her overworked shell. The raspy purrs of the engine conceal her eager release. She lets out a sigh, and continues on.
Her mother awaits her. Penelope knows it’s never just a favor her mother needs from her whenever she goes to visit. She must be reminded; Penelope should reconsider her life’s choices.
Her mother thanks Penelope for her help. It was inevitable, for Penelope sensed this coming, the harsh judgment of her mother: “Penelope, why do you stay with that man?” Penelope has two options here: get defensive and retaliate against her mother, or diffuse the situation with avoidance. “C’mon, Mom. We’ve been over this.” Be that as it may, no matter how often Penelope reminds her mother that she does not appreciate such a line of questioning, it is not enough to satiate her mother’s endless berating.
How much can one person take?
“John was there for me at my lowest. He saved me, Mom! What kind of woman and wife would that make me if I just LEAVE him when things go wrong?”
“To tell you the truth, Pen.” And, it was a truth that Penelope already had tumbling around somewhere inside that sour skull. “You wouldn’t be leaving him. He’s already left you!” Damn you, mother.
“Where is he at right now? John’s not the one who lost the baby!”
Penelope knows all too well how hopeless Bridgett is, too.
She pities her friend just as much as she loves her. Still, Penelope decides to join Bridgett on her empty couch, dipping into the same self-soothing popcorn bowl. The only difference being that Penelope prefers a little more cheddar powder on her popcorn than Bridgett does, though.
Penelope goes on to make such a bold claim. “Oh, that is SO gross!” Her face twists and contorts at the scenes playing out in front of her, exposing the half-chewed food that’s in her mouth. “This was supposed to be a science-fiction movie!” Through belly-laughs, Bridgett takes a stand against her dissatisfied friend, “It IS a science-fiction movie! I can’t help it if a few amputated limbs get thrown around here or there!”
“It doesn’t make any sense why people had to get chopped down like trees when it’s a science-fiction movie about aliens, mind-control, and cryo-chambers!”
Now Bridgett pities Penelope. “Hey, but you had fun with me, didn’t ya?” Only to be met with scorn. “Valentine’s Day is coming up! Can’t we watch something with a bit more romance next time?”
Hurtful words. Bridgett swallows hard and nods at her friend. Her smile is fake. “Yes, of course, Pen.”
Penelope stands up and tidies up the room, and she might have noticed that she was being a little unfair to Bridgett, Bridgett does take care of everything. “I had fun.”
After hearing what Penelope had to say, Bridgett’s shoulders sunk back down to her spine, where they are supposed to sit.
“I had fun, too!”
One nightmare is knowing that somebody else you weren’t expecting to receive is now lingering around, somewhere inside of your home. A different sort of nightly terror is the kind where you come home to the scent of triple sec spilled sloppily all over your living room carpet. Isn’t it a lovely “welcome home” to have your vision immediately swamped by the sight of wrinkled, brown paper bags instead of the sight of your husband’s warm smile, meeting you at the door? Wouldn’t that be nice to see? After all, Penelope sure misses John’s smile, but she’s long over wishing for it to be there.
Penelope, after hanging up her house keys on the notch directly next to the front door, violently pulls the work shoes off her feet. With haste, she kicks those reminders of a day spent fulfilling nothing actually meaningful across the room. Finally, freedom for those fleshy, swollen, padded slaves of hers, which throb and flinch at the touch of fresh air.
She’d better at least check in and see if he’s still alive.
The tones of her dialing are the crux of her concern. Why bother? It’s not like he is going to answer anyway.
Ringing... and ringing... and ringing.
Oh John, what the hell were you thinking?
At three o’clock, the following day, Penelope would find herself unable to isolate her attention away from the pair of auburn eyes stripping her down, oh so, “covertly”. Her boss is taking his time to slowly analyze her body through a poorly feigned execution at what should be a smooth side glance. Unfortunately, his interest in her doesn’t come off as a suave sort of coaxing to her.
When you know what we know... her boss’s infatuated subtleties seem unfairly corrosive and inconsiderate in nature. Not only is it irrefutably unprofessional, he is also one of only two people in Penelope’s town who are actually aware of the fact that Mrs. Devout is already betrothed to another. How could it not be in poor taste? And yet, Penelope is unable to subdue her wandering thoughts for long... as if, in but a millisecond of weakness, she’d unintentionally invited them to play out in her mind against her better judgment.
Still, she chooses to brush it off like nothing ever happened. “Do you think he’s one of the aliens we saw from the movie last night?” Bridgett giggles lowly inside of Penelope’s ear.
“Looks like one.” Penelope’s mutters are loaded with contempt for the man. “Probes like one, too.”
Let me ask you a question, “What does our precious Penelope and the bitter cold share in common?” The bitter cold never apologizes for being cold, and neither will Penelope. Not after this moment...
“Why not celebrate your lover every day?” Penelope can’t help herself from begging the question once more. What’s bubbling below the surface has now traveled to her teeth, where they are met with much heated grit. Out of her mouth, words come hissing sharp and low. There, a vengeful fire starts to crackle. Curses under her breath begin rolling from her tongue, hot with fury. When she is alone, she can be this fiery. “Why only appreciate them when everything is good?” Her spirit feels akin to dragon-myth.
“Why only highlight the care and admiration you possess for them on a silly, made-up holiday? Maybe that’s why I hate Valentine’s Day even more!” Line by line, Mrs. Devout allows her mind to slip further into places where love is condemned, and empathy is prohibited.
“Has your faith in John become just as fictitious?”
Penelope feels alarmed by this question, not because she wouldn’t think of it herself, but because it didn’t come from her.
“Hey, is someone in here?” She tries calling out to whoever might be there. “Jared? Bridgett? Are one of you guys in here?”
Had she been mistaken? Penelope thought she was the only one occupying the freezer at work. Surely, she can’t be? No, she must be, for there was no immediate answer. Something fell? Most likely had to have. No one said anything. “I must be going crazy.”
“And what if you’re not?”
“Jesus!” Terror ignites her chilled bones. Back on her heels, eyes wide as the Earth. “Who’s there?!”
“Not anyone you need fear. I come in peace, and with a promise of prosperity for you.”
“A funny way to come in peace is to incite fear into the person you’re trying to communicate with.” Penelope sneers. “No... no, no, no. You’re in my head.” Ironically, Penelope barks at the voice in her head aloud.
Penelope feels like she has seen this before, despite this being a totally inexplicable experience.
“I-I know what you are! You’ve intercepted my brain, haven’t you? Either I’m going crazy, or the aliens have come for me now, too. Ugh! I don’t care either way. Look, I don’t know what or who the hell you are that I’m hearing in my brain, but you are not welco-!”
“I know what happened, Penelope.” Penelope is rendered unwittingly stunned. The chill which had taken refuge below her skin before had quickly traveled through the marrow of her bones, up through the failing vulnerabilities of her heart. When she hears these words uttered unto her... the world that she’d been living in alone for so long now, the same one she knew to be unjustly isolating and dark, had finally found its methods for taking its hold on her.
“Wh-what do you know about me! Who do you think you are?...”
“John... he found you. He took you in. He made you well again, made you feel safe. At the same time, to fix you, the mess he found, he insisted on creating something new out of you. A new you unlike any other you before. When he made that decision to build you up again, he opted for making you in his own image. And you were so quick to oblige. You loved him, I know. He saved you, after all. The only real expense for you was leaving the true Penelope behind.
“You didn’t complain much. Under his guidance, it’s hard to deny that you were on an upward trend. Together, you two skyrocketed. You learned a profitable new skill, working side-by-side. Your teamwork was phenomenal, and undeniable. You two asked one another, ‘Could something like this last forever?’ So you two sure decided to give it a try. Betrothed, and dumb-struck in-love, it was inevitable that you would conceive.”
Penelope hung her head low, and paused. “What else do you know?”
“I know that you lost the baby. It was a difficult time for you, and seemingly, somehow, in a weird twist of events, it became an even harder time for John... even though he didn’t have to struggle with the feeling that you had, when you felt your baby’s life slipping away forever, right between your legs. Yet, John was the one unable to keep his composure. How?
“He turned to drinking. This led to a lot of late night fights, but worse, his new bad habit impeded his ability to work. He jeopardized a very expensive project for the company you both were now employed at. So they let him go. This didn’t stop his drinking. And it was up to you to keep everything you two had built together afloat. He didn’t leave you time to process your own feelings. You were too busy saving everything and everyone else.”
She clenched her fist tightly, snarling, “And then?”
“Then... someone else died. And it was all John’s fault. He killed her, through careless and avoidable acts. If he hadn’t gotten in that car, she’d still be alive. He hit her head on. You tried to turn the wheel before the impact. You yelled at him to stop! When you found him, too, out of the wreckage. You both panicked. And what did you do?”
“I took the fall.”
“Aren’t you angry? Sad, lamenting this? Aren’t you tired of grieving over your loss alone? But I? I can help you feel like none of that matters anymore.
“Penelope, you and I can do this together. We don’t need him! In fact, all we need is a thicker skin and a colder heart.”
“What do I do?”
“Let me help you. Let me in.”
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