Lanisha Otuonye Just Like the Movies You have her up against the wall and you feel your blade graze the base of her neck. She’s quiet, real quiet now, and you wonder if this is the quietest she’s ever been. Eyes closed admitting defeat, you just want to kiss her. Kiss her real hard in that way she’s never let you do before. Show her how beautiful she is when she’s with you. Her powerless body wanting to be nowhere else but entangled in your arms. She looks so real, so human-like it almost makes it easier. It makes it easier to love when you have no other choice. Who said love was senseless? Love makes plenty of sense. Plenty of sense, like this. *** May 10, 2010 Today at the mall I saw a young couple in love, or at least I think they were. They were probably in high school, and I thought to myself, what the hell do they know? I followed them anyway. I know that seems weird, but I just wanted to see what it was like, what it was like to be in love. You see all these crazy plots in movies, like “love at first sight” and “true soul mates forever”, and you wonder if this stuff is real. It has to be real right? They say lines like, “I’ll never love another,” and “You’re the only girl for me,” and it’s all cheesy, but you know it’s true. It has to be true. They went to Coldstone. The guy forgot his wallet, so the girl had to pay. I waited for it, the real world reaction. I wanted to see her pupils make the long loop around as she blatantly rolled her eyes in disgust. I wanted to see her let out a long sigh, signaling that this date was all but over, but her reaction didn’t satisfy me. She just smiled and handed him his cone. It wasn’t even that “I’m secretly pissed” smile. It was a genuine smile that spread from ear to ear. Then he smiled back. They were both grinning with ridiculous ice cream covered lips and I smiled too. I smiled because they smiled and they were in love. I was in love. They went to Spencer’s Gifts, you know, that place where they sell weird trinkets in the front and sex toys in the back. I hesitated walking in. I saw a woman, she wasn’t in love, and she was watching me. Judging me. She was thinking, “Is that pervert really going in?” and I almost didn’t. But then I looked at her and the way she was dressed in her plain clothing, with her straight limp hair. She looked like a librarian. Never too flashy, always put together, real quiet. I felt bad for her. I looked at her small ring-less fingers and I wondered how different she would be if she found love. Yes, she would be okay, she just needed to find love like in the movies. I almost asked her to come in with me. Come and watch love with me, but it wouldn’t have made a difference. Her eyes were stone cold and I knew she’d already been ruined. They each put on a pair of mustached glasses and laughed. Apparently they looked so good that they needed to take a picture. Their stupid faces were pressed up against each others as they both assumed the “quizzical” position. It was cute, in a way that I can’t yet understand. They exploded into laughter as they reviewed the picture. I wanted to see it. I wanted to see what their pimply faces looked like in their eyes and in their brains. I wanted to burst out into laughter with them, pointing out all the hilarious imperfections that make the picture comical. I wanted to see too. They went to the back and took pictures of the penis shaped lollipops. They went through the aisles as if it were a “Please Touch Museum”, occasionally stopping to make vulgar gestures accompanied by muffled giggles. I touched too. I touched everything they touched, and smelled some of it. That’s not odd, I was learning. I was learning how to eat, sleep, and breathe love. I was submerging myself into their culture. I needed to know what affection was and how it lived. That’s all. So when they bought a penis shaped lollipop and a box of “Trojan Magnum Large” condoms I did too. I looked at him, awkwardly shoving the large condoms in his back pocket, and thought Who does he think he’s fooling? Then I tried to picture myself walking out the door, but I didn’t have to. The same woman was there staring at me with her cold beady eyes. I knew I looked stupid, but she wouldn’t understand. I tucked the condoms into my back pocket as well and unwrapped my lollipop. I looked her dead in the eyes and popped that sucker in my mouth. She turned away. I was a disgrace. She couldn’t stand to look at me, and that made me sad, but then I remembered. I thought of how she probably comes home every night to a cat named Darlene and a library of Netflix movies at her fingertips. I can imagine her sitting there, wondering when life was going to happen to her. Never. Never like this. I followed them outside where they walked and talked hand in hand. It was pretty crowded with the usual teenagers. The ones who think they are cool because they smoke, the Goth punks who look out of place and needed to climb back in their coffins, and the baby mamas whose baby daddies couldn’t pay the child support so they were stuck waiting for the bus. Despite all this, they only saw each other. It was like they were lost in each other’s touch, some force field surrounding them, making the backdrop disappear. It was cute, I guess. Interesting is more of the word, and that’s why I followed them. I followed them to the side of the mall where no one ever ventured and I disappeared behind a shipping truck. I knew I looked stupid, I looked real fucking stupid, but I couldn’t help it. I wanted to know what people did when they thought they were in love. They stood and talked a little, then they flirted a little, and then they got real physical real fast. Like a rush for time I saw them kiss each other like they have never kissed another person before. You know, when you see it on TV and it’s like they’re scared they’re going to lose each other? The urgency between them was beautiful, and I couldn’t help but watch every second of it. It was stunning. Stunning in a way that I can’t describe, and I wanted to know what that felt like. I wanted to memorize it, so that I could replay this scene and mimic it exactly. I wanted to… “The fuck are you looking at?” the boy screamed over at me. “You watching my girl? What you perv?” I didn’t know what to do. I couldn’t even understand what he was saying. Was I perv? Was I not perv? “You think I won’t kill you? You think you’ve got balls?” “Babe,” the girl put a hand on his shoulder, “let’s just go…” “No, I was talking…” He turned to me, but I was already long gone. My feet, moving on their own accord, ran to the other side of the mall where I had parked my car. I’ll have to find love some other way. September 15, 2010 I met a girl Charlotte online. I’m going to see her today. We’re supposed to meet at 114 East Street; there’s a semi fancy restaurant there that she really likes. I didn’t slick my hair back. I read that’s out of style, and I don’t want to be out of style. I’m wearing a blue shirt, because I read blue is a calm color. I want Charlotte to be calm when she sees me, but I want to stick out. I don’t want to be a background wallflower, so I think I’ll wear my red tie. In China red is the color of prosperity and joy, so if I wear red I’ll be prosperous…I think. Just in case I’ll put the stem of that penis lollipop in my pocket. I’m not sure, but I think that will help. No. I know that will help. Help me fall in love I’m going to be a gentleman. I’m going to come early and wait for her to be fashionably late. Then I’m going to pull out her chair when she finally arrives. She’ll think to herself, “Wow, he’s so sweet,” and I’ll smile a confident smile, just to win her over. I’ll look clean and professional, and if she asks, I’ll show her that business card I made. Personal Injury Lawyer. She’ll be so happy. I’ll show her what a real good time is like, without her jerk husband. I’ll make her understand what it feels like to really be in love. I don’t think I’ve ever felt this alive. I want to run around the world and scream, “LOVE DOES EXIST!” Even though, I haven’t seen her yet, I know it does. She thinks I’m handsome, funny, and refreshing, everything that she has been lacking. I’ll be her knight in shining armor, just like the movies. I’ll remember everything about tonight, every time she laughs at my jokes, every time she flips her hair, every time she finds a subtle way to touch my hand, I’ll remember it all. It’ll be the love I’ve always waited for. September 23, 2010 I just got back from my second date with Charlotte. She’s beautiful, absolutely stunning. Sometimes I watch her and wonder How in the world did I get blessed with a girl like her? She’s amazing! The best I’ve ever met and she’s mine! She loves me! She laughs at everything I say, because I’m funny, and she tells me to stop being so adorable, because I am. I love the way the corners of her eyes crinkle when she smiles, and the way her cheeks get flustered when she’s telling me a long drawn out story. I love it when she laughs that big throw back laugh, and her long wavy brown curls roam loose all over the place. The way she says my name, as if it were previously engraved on her tongue…it’s too precious. I love her, and she loves me! I just know it! But there’s the problem of her husband. She’s not sure when or how she’s going to break it off with him, but it will be soon. She’ll wait until he’s on vacation to draw up the papers and run away with half of the house’s assets. That part was my idea, but she seemed all for it. She wanted to know if I could get her some documents, divorce documents, but I said no. “I’m an accident lawyer not a divorce attorney.” Then she sighed this big sigh which made me wish I was a divorce attorney. Only if it made her smile. When she went to the bathroom, I peeked through her purse. I didn’t mean to look in it, not really. It’s just that it was there. It wasn’t calling me or anything, I’m not cheesy like that. It was just sitting there, normal, not saying a word. So I opened it even more. Not because I needed to, but because I wanted to. There’s nothing wrong with wanting to do something like that, it’s only natural. A man’s curiosity you see. I found lipstick, powder, a planner, a credit card, some cash, and an empty condom wrapper. I wondered if she had sex often. I wanted to know how often and with whom she had it. Was it an old wrapper? Did she have lots of wrappers lying around? Was she the type that was always prepared? Should I be the type that’s always prepared? So I took out her phone and scrolled through her contacts. She had some girls, and a lot of guys, so many guys it scared me. Now I know why it’s so hard to find single girls, they all have a million guys chasing after them. I wondered if she ever went out on dates with them and how I compared to them. What if she thinks Jack dresses nicer than I do or Rob pays a bigger tip than I do? What if she leaves me for Daniel? Would she? But she can’t. I love her. I can’t let her. I jotted down a few numbers on my napkin, and erased the SD card. Zero contacts, which means no one else to talk to but me. I think I did the right thing, that was smart of me wasn’t it? Then I took something I didn’t need to. I took her lipstick because I wanted to know what it felt like to put it on. Did she feel pretty when she wore it? Did she feel sexy? I wanted to wear it. I wanted to smother it on my lips and look in the mirror and say, “I’m Charlotte and I feel pretty.” I think she’d say something like that. I wonder if she would. Maybe. When she came back she didn’t even look at her phone. She talked on and on about her life and her job, and this and that. I just smiled, because I knew at that moment, there was no one else she’d rather share this information with than me. I knew at this point she was falling for me. Just like the movies. “Do you believe in love?” I asked. Her cheeks quickly grew red as she slowly took a big gulp of water. I waited until she was done, keeping my eyes locked on her the entire time. “Well, I suppose so…” “I think I love you Charlotte.” Her eyes widened out of either surprise or amazement, I’m not quite sure which –maybe both. “You know…I’ve been through a lot,” she replied, “I don’t know if love is really an option for me right now.” I smiled knowingly and let that be. I knew it. I knew that she was in love with me, but she’s not ready to admit it. When the waiter came over I paid him a generous tip and I made sure she was watching. I wanted her to know that I tipped bigger than Rob. November 6, 2010 I saw her today, Charlotte that is. We had a date last week, but I haven’t heard from her since. She hasn’t answered any of my calls. I think she’s scared. Scared of commitment. I asked her to move in with me and she panicked. She acted like I had asked her to fly to the moon and back. This was normal for couples in love. I saw it on the television. When people are in love they live with each other, but maybe I was wrong about her. Maybe she’s the “wait ‘til after marriage” type, and I just scared her off. I didn’t mean to, I really didn’t. I love her, I want her to be happy, but everything I do is….not happy making. Not at all. I saw her in the window of Kristine’s coffee shop. She was with some man. I didn’t know who he was. I wondered if he was her husband. Or maybe that was Jack, he was dressed rather nicely. I stood off to the side watching them and I saw as she laughed at his jokes like she laughs at mine. I saw my face in his. My smiling happy face in his, and I knew that he had stolen it. No one can be as happy as me when I’m with Charlotte, so I know he had stolen my face. Last time I was with her, I felt like someone was watching us, but I just shrugged it off. But now I know. I know it was him, and that he was studying my face and that he was trying to be just like me. He saw how Charlotte loves me, and he wanted it too, but it’s not the same. A copy is never the same. I saw her flip her hair as it fell in the way of their conversation. And then…and then I saw her finding excuses to touch his hand and it made me sick. It made me so sick I wanted to just run up there and throw up over the whole damn thing, but I didn’t. I waited until he was leaving, and I watched as he gave her a kiss on the cheek, the same cheek that I kiss her on. I watched him get in his nice car and pull away. She stood staring out the window, smiling at him as if he were the best damn thing on earth. And it hurt. It hurt real bad. I walked in there just as she started to gather her things. “Who was that?” I said a little bit louder than I should have. She looked startled at first, but composed herself quickly. “Babe, funny seeing you here.” I wasn’t taking that bullshit. “Who was that? Jack? Did he leave a big tip? Was it Rob? Your husband?” “How do you…how do you know those people? And what’s it to you?” “I read some stuff. You had guys all over your phone and I don’t know why. You didn’t need those numbers anymore, so I deleted them. I deleted them; so that they wouldn’t bother you Charlotte. Charlotte, who was that?” “You did what?” she said standing up. She wasn’t smiling anymore. “How dare you go through my phone! What made you think something like that was okay?” her voice now higher than before. “Whatever, fine, have it your way whore. Don’t tell me who that was. I forbid you from seeing him ever again. You hear me? If I ever fucking see you with him again I’ll…” “You’ll what?” she spat back. Her face was boiling red from frustration, and I knew she was angry with me. She was angry, but she had no right to be. I was the one who should be angry. I was wronged. She went off with some other guy without my permission. She told me she loved me, I knew she did in her head. There was that connection, how can she get mad at me. I only wanted to know what was going on in her life. I didn’t mean any harm, I was just helping her, protecting her from those would want to use her. Those who want to destroy her innocence. I grabbed her by the shoulders and pushed my lips against hers. I tried to kiss her passionately, like they did in the movies, but she wouldn’t let me. She pushed away from me, so I pulled tighter. She pushed even harder, so I squeezed her until I could feel my knuckles turning white. She then kneed me in the groin and I doubled over in pain. “Who do you think you are!” she hollered, gathered her stuff and left. And I stood there, bent over the table. Everyone was staring at me, like I was some kind of a criminal, but they didn’t understand. We had our first fight just like all lovers do. I smiled replaying the moment in my head. I would always remember our first fight, even when she had long forgotten. I even took a napkin as a memoir. It says Kristine’s on it, so I’ll never forget the place where her ears grew hot out of frustration. Love is often frustrating. In the movies it’s always frustrating. November 8, 2010 I called her for the fourth time today, twenty-seventh time in the past two days. She’s still mad at me. I called her house twice, but no one answered. I didn’t leave a message though. I didn’t want her to know it was me; I just wanted to hear her voice. I wanted to hear her pick up the phone and say “Hello, this is Charlotte speaking,” but she didn’t. The third time I called someone finally answered. It was a male voice, and I knew it was her husband. I could tell by the way that arrogant bastard picked up the phone. “Hello, this is Dr. Kowalski speaking.” As if everyone in the world needs to know you’re a doctor. As if the prefix doctor was an actual part of your name. I didn’t say anything at first, and I could hear nothing but breathing on his end of the line. After a few moments of silence he repeated himself, “Hello, this is Dr. Kowalksi speaking.” I rolled my eyes. “Is this Charlotte’s husband?” There was a long pause on the other end, and for a moment I thought he hung up. It’d be just like him to hang up too. “Yes, this is he. And who might I be speaking too?” I chuckled at his formal way of speaking. He sounded like he was born with a bow tie on, all stuffed and trimmed. He was probably an image type. One of those guys with the real clean shaven faces that you could just eat on. Probably never went outdoors without a button down shirt and tie, and went to the gym with his buddies, doctor buddies in the afternoon. They probably all swapped stories about whose life they saved the hour before, and in which volume of Med Counsel would they be featured in. It made me sick just thinking about it. “Did you know?” I asked. “Did you know I’m fucking you’re wife?” My lips twitched as the words came out. I couldn’t wait for him to rage, for him to slam the phone in fury, for him to call me a sick bastard and threaten to come to my house and beat the living daylights out of me. “Isn’t everyone?” he replied. I hung up. November 12, 2010 I can’t take it anymore. I can’t live without Charlotte. I sleep with the Kristine’s napkin under my pillow and I wear her lipstick every day. It’s a routine now. I wake up, put on the lipstick and say, “Hello, I’m Charlotte and I feel pretty.” Sometimes I change it up and say, “Hello I’m Charlotte and I feel sexy.” Then I wipe the lipstick off with that memorable napkin, and I remember our first fight and wonder when the next will come. And then that makes me think about the next time I will see Charlotte, and I just can’t wait. I love her. I need her. I want to marry her and live with her forever and ever. I called up one of those names I copied from her cell phone. Jack answered the phone and I asked him if he’d been with Charlotte lately. He chuckled and said, “depends what you mean by been with…” then he let the end of the sentence trail off like it was no mystery what had happened between them. I shuddered, thinking of the lengths he’s gone with my Charlotte. I threatened to ruin him. I threatened to find out where he lived and slit his throat that he couldn’t suggest such horrible things about my Charlotte. I told him I’d cut off his fingers and force feed them through a tube to make sure he never touched her. I told him I’d ruin everything that mattered to him. I told him I’d even kill his cat. He laughed at that. Apparently he doesn’t have cat. I cursed him out until I was blue in the face and he just kept on laughing until I hung up. I called her friend Tracy, and asked if she’d seen Charlotte. She asked me who I was. Why does everyone need to know who I am? Why can’t I get straight answers? I told her I was her boyfriend, and she chuckled. “Boyfriend…right. Listen, if you can’t reach her cell phone then maybe you should just buzz off. Charlotte’s got a lot of boyfriends.” I hung up on her, because she was wrong. Charlotte doesn’t have any boyfriends, just me. And if she can’t have me, she can’t have anyone. *** You feel her trembling underneath the light weight of the blade. The blade that she knows can stop her life at any moment. You snicker because you’re a genius. If only you had thought of this before, wouldn’t everything have been simpler? There’d be no confusion as to what was going on, and she’d stay with you always. There’d be no one else for her but you. The two of you would be happy, and in love. “Do you love me, Charlotte?” “Please,” she replies. Her tears rolling down her face like constant rain drops. “I want you to love me, Charlotte, can you love me?” She tries to nod her head yes, but your blade gently scratches her skin causing a trickle of blood. She stifles a scream, and you stare at the blood, rolling down her neck and disappearing into her white shirt. You roll out your tongue and lick the line of the trailing blood right up to its origin. You taste a mixture of metal and salt, and notice the tears and sweat covering her face. “Don’t cry, Charlotte. I love you. Do you love me?” She cries harder than before. “If you love me, Charlotte,” your voice louder, “you’ll stop fucking crying!” “Please,” she heaves, “let me go! Let me go, I won’t tell anyone! Let me…” Wrong answer. With the flick of your blade you slash her throat and throw her onto the ground. You hear the gargling noises as she scrambles on the floor, hands holding her neck as pools of blood seep through her fingers. “Why won’t you love me!” you scream, kicking her in the chest, a burst of blood now pumping out of her throat. You watch her frantic movements slow down, and you know she’s dying but you can’t help yourself. Things could’ve turned out differently, and you think that, every time you kick her. Every time you stab her, you think, she drove you to this. This is all her fault. Why couldn’t she admit it? Why couldn’t she admit she loved you? Even when she’s no longer moving you stab her until you can’t differentiate her insides from her outsides. All you can see is her face, her beautiful auburn hair, now swimming in a pool of blood. Whore. You stare at the blood lower yourself to your knees and begin to cry, letting your blood covered hands hold your face. You did it. You succeeded. She’s yours forever and ever, now she’ll never belong to anyone else. You crawl to lie beside her, wrapping one arm around an indistinguishable form of a body. Your own body is soaked in warm blood and you smile remembering the moment. You pull out her lipstick tube and gently press the red lipstick to her mouth. You’re not sure if it’s working. You’re not sure if her lips are lipstick red or blood red. You kiss her. Just like those kids at the mall. Kiss her as if she was the only person in your world right now, because she is. You take her by the head, attached to her body with only a few folds of skin, and you kiss her passionately, like she’s never let you kiss her before. You press your lips against hers and you taste nothing but metal and salt, and you know that you taste her insides. You know her now, inside and out. Just like the movies… | 
