Writing Prompt: His deception was obvious.

Morning all and welcome to the middle of the week. I do not know what is happening but I am having a really productive week this week. It’s kind of nice. February was filled with non-stop interruptions but thus far March is leaving me to do my thing. Which is a good thing as I am so far past one of my deadlines it isn’t funny. No clue how long the quiet will last but I plan to take advantage of it while I can. So let’s wake up the brains with the morning prompt and get things started. Timers set for fifteen minutes and we are off.

I like this. I think if I were to go back I would make the realization slower and draw it out more. Show the details more and then have the snap of it is time to go. But I think I got enough notes in there that when I do come back to this I can see where my thoughts were, and sometimes that is half of the battle.

Wednesday, March 4^th: His deception was obvious.

His deception was obvious.  He couldn’t look me in the eye.  He ducked his head low, turned slightly sideways and slowly slid an eye in my general direction.

“So you know nothing about this?” I asked.

If anything, he dropped lower. I sighed and looked back into the living room.  Three separate couch cushions had been decimated in the rampage.  Foam filler and cotton batting was spewed across the living room. 

I heard nails click on the tile.  I looked down and saw that Riley was edging closer as though to gage how truly angry I was.  In truth the couch was not a loss.  I had purchased a new one and it would be delivered in a few weeks.  This old one was in so bad a shape that I couldn’t donate it.  A short time prior something vital snapped in it’s interior architecture.  It was fine when I left for work but somehow broken when I returned.

I was fairly certain Matt and his friends rather than Riley was responsible but he was more than happy to let the dog take the blame. 

I went into the kitchen and grabbed a trash bag.  I got down onto the floor and began gathering up the spewed cough insides.  Riley came over and gave me a tentative lick on the cheek.  “You know you can’t do this on the good couch,” I told him.  He wagged his tail and trotted off certain now that he would be forgiven.

“Apparently pets do become like their owners.  The dog was Matt and he expected I would forgive him for the couch as well.  As I cleaned up, I thought about it.  The couch had lasted me a long time.  I arrived with not a single stain on any of the cushions and only a few worn spots easily covered by the slipcover.  In the space of six months the slipcover disappeared, there were a multitude of stains, something vital snapped and now the cushions were decimated.  It was, if I allowed myself to think about it, a good metaphor for my life with Matt. 

I had three weeks, maybe a little less before my new couch arrived and it represented a substantial investment for me.  I didn’t wish to see it destroyed in a few months as well.  ‘If it lasted that long.’

Lately both Matt and Riley seemed to be on a tear and somehow it was always my stuff that suffered.  The thought stayed with me as I cleaned up from the destruction.  I put the bags in the giant trash bon and left the now deflated looking frame of the couch in the living room.  As I walked back across the house, I couldn’t help but catalog the destruction. The television stand I bought was now chipped on the corners and covered in gaming paraphernalia. Sheets and blankets had holes.  I lost more shoes than I kept. 

And yet when I looked at Matt’s things, they were pristine.  His shoes always looking nearly brand new, changed out as soon as they got so much as a scuff on them.  His gaming systems new and top of the line, new controllers purchased as soon as any wear showed on one of the buttons.  I knew part of that was his parent’s money.  They paid his credit card bill and therefore he thought nothing of spending their money.  Just as he thought nothing of letting my belongings get destroyed.   I picked up my purse and realized I was finally done with it.  Which meant things needed to change.  As usual, I would be the one who needed to change them.  I headed for the door.