A Piece of Her

From the instant they sat down at her favorite diner in town for chocolate chip pancakes, that was it; she fell, hard and fast. They talked about everything, which was rare for both of them to open up, to anyone. Their most ridiculous fears, like his spiders and her zombies. Their dreams of what they wanted to be when they were little, his dream to be a cowboy. Their pipe dreams, her dream to become a writer. And their deepest, darkest secrets which they guarded very close to themselves. They made each other laugh, a lot. Almost too much sometimes that they’d have to catch their breath. And at night, being together was the rawest form of passion she had ever felt in her entire life.

He was older than her by almost 8 years. She was in her final semester at college about to graduate, and he was a butcher by day, security guard by night. They met while he was working at one of the college bars. She was enticed by his danger; intense, intimidating… scary even. He was huge with tattoos everywhere and had a long, unkept dirty blonde beard and an almost completely shaved head. To most girls his appearance screamed, “I am BAD for you! Stay FAR away.” But to her, this just made her want him all the more. The way he smirked had her completely hooked. From that very first night she met him, she knew that she needed more, much more and he felt the same way.

The night she knew she loved him was a few weeks after they met, when he had opened up to her about his past:

“It was a robbery gone wrong…”

They were laying in her tiny bed, which he could barely fit on, and she was laying on top of him, searching for his eyes to meet hers. For once, he couldn’t look at her. He always made eye contact with her, and this time, with this particular story, he felt so far away. She buried her face in his shoulder, silently waiting for the words to spill out of him…

“I’ve stolen – jewelry, money, drugs, whatever is worth something. I’ve even killed people… I’ve killed many bad people, but I’ve killed innocent people, too. I’ve been running from that life for a while, and it may be behind me now… but I’ve done some really bad sh*t. I’m no good for you, I don’t know if I’ll ever be good.”

Shock and concern ran through her body, but she was not afraid of him. She was drawn closer to him, wanting to comfort him and the pain she could feel he felt for things he had done. Her eyes welled up, but she held her voice strong so he wouldn’t notice, “You are good.” She whispered. “You’re good now.”

“Do you hate me?” he asked worried, his voice unsettled. He was looking at her now searching for the answer in her big, green eyes.

“No.” She paused. “I do not hate you... I never could.”

And it was true, not only did she not hate him, she loved him. He was bad, but she didn’t care. The more she knew and the more he confessed to her, the more enamored she was by him. His sharing of his darkest secrets made her feel honored, cherished. As if he ripped open his soul invitingly and laid it all out for her to either jump in or run away. And oh, was she in. Young, even slightly naïve, and truly in love for the first time in her life.

She never shared her poems with anyone, especially not a man. She could never feel like she could trust any man with her heart, let alone her writing. But with him, her poetry fell out of her and onto the page in a way it never had before. She wrote all of her poems to him in a little black notebook he had bought her one day along with a beautiful quill pen. They were her two most cherished possessions and she only used the book to write poems about him. He made her feel loved, he made her feel whole, until… she graduated and moved home, 200 miles away.

After she left, he quickly fell back into his old ways. When he wasn’t getting into trouble and breaking his promises, they would meet halfway and spend the weekend in a hotel. His former sweetness was now completely bitter, and at times he made her feel so small. She knew she did not deserve the way he had been treating her ever since she left, but she loved him too much to leave him, to end it. In fact, that wasn’t even a thought in her brain. She begged him to change; he promised he would, but he didn’t. He could never be consistent since they were apart. The only thing he was consistent at was making her feel worthless, then coming back to her with the line that made her weaker than anything in the world:

“I’m sorry, hun”

...before breaking her again. He went from being her safe place to her absolute hell.

It had been weeks since they saw each other, and all he did was promise her that he would try. Her instinct told her not to trust him, but her heart did not doubt his words for a second. She had no choice but to trust him, for he held her heart in his big, cold-blooded hands. To her surprise, he asked her to meet her halfway at their usual spot.

“Merry Christmas, hun” he said, as he placed three gifts in her lap. All different sized boxes wrapped in brown paper, which she recognized from his butcher shop for packaging meat.

Christmas had already come and gone, but in this moment she didn’t care. He finally made the effort to see her and she was with him again. Ever since they were apart, she found that she had to work tirelessly for his affection, the opposite of when they first met. It took big moments for her to feel anything close to love from him. This was one of those big moments, one where he was giving her everything she always needed just by being there and looking at her the way he did; warm and full.

He could have given her anything, no matter how big or small, and she would have absolutely treasured it forever. She sat on the bed, facing him with her legs crisscrossed as the presents laid in her lap. She looked up at him, thrilled like a little kid for whatever was is inside.

“Well, open em’!” he said with a smirk, her smirk.

Inside was a pearl necklace, a set of pearl earrings, and a pearl ring. Her eyes looked up at him and before words could escape her mouth, she threw her arms around him and kissed him.

“I love them so much,” she whispered in between the kiss. He pulled away a little quicker than she had wanted.

She asked him, “What made you choose pearls?”

He met her eyes and said, “Pearls are beautiful and classy, just like you… and every successful woman needs some pearls.”

She smiled from ear to ear, and even though he didn’t say it, she knew he loved her and that he was proud of her, which meant more to her than he would ever know. While he didn’t always give her enough, in this moment she knew that he truly believed in her, which made he feel anything but small.

Now it was time for him to open up her gift, and she was oddly nervous to give it to him. As he picked up the perfectly wrapped present with his large hands and started to open it, she held her breath. Her heart was racing as he ripped off the gold paper and revealed what looked to be a small journal. He looked at her puzzled, but in a good way. Their relationship was practically surrounded by him being greatly mystified by her, which is probably why during times like this, she felt on top of the world. He smirked, her smirk, as opened the black front cover of the notebook with his rugged hands. It was the black notebook he bought her months ago. It read:

here is a book

filled with all

of my poems

to you

merry christmas

my hunny

my heart belongs

to you

Every poem she ever wrote to him lie in this book. It was the only way she knew how to give her heart to him fully. Vulnerable was an understatement as she searched his face for a reaction.

He looked at her and breathed, “I will keep this, forever.”

His attention suddenly snapped out the window where you could hear police sirens in the distance getting closer. With his hand on his gun, he ran to the window and peeked out seeing police cars approaching the hotel.

“Get the f*ck out of here, now.”

She panicked and quietly shouted, “What is going on?! Why?”

“Listen to me,” he said, “You get the hell out of here, and never look back. Take the jewelry to a pawn shop far away and sell them as quickly as you can. Don’t keep it, should be worth about $20,000 collectively, but it could be more. Keep the money in cash and never tell a soul. Do what I say or else you will be in serious danger. If anyone asks you if you know me, you’ve never met me before a day in your life. Okay?”

The police sirens were approaching the building, she listened and quickly put her sweatshirt on and pulled the hood over her head, as she grabbed her bag to leave the room, leave him. She started to panic at the thought of goodbye.

The tears ran down her face as he was stuffing the pearls in her bag. She cried, “How could you do this to me? How could you put me in this position? How can I just leave you here? I love you.”

“God damn it, would you ever just do what you’re told?! We are done, it is over now. They found me. Get the f*ck out of here!” he harshly said.

His words made her wince as if she had been physically hurt and with her eyes welled up. She went to leave.

“Wait.” He spoke.

She turned around and he was already right there.

He said, “I love you, forever. I’m sorry for everything I’ve put you through.”

He kissed her on the forehead and turned her around to face the door again. She walked out of the room and out the back exit of the hotel where her car was parked. She drove away with tears rolling down her cheeks, the stolen pearls in her bag, and leaving her heart there with him.

He sat on the hotel bed and opened the book...

Page 1

Dare

Serious face that

frightens those who

dare to challenge him

Except –

For one sweet

face who dared

to make him smile.

Page 2

Butcher

Piece of meat

Fresh + savory

Carve your name

on my heart.

Page 3

How can hands

that have done

such bad things

Feel so safe

Feel so good

Feel like love.

Page 4

Angel

Every single piece

of him.

I can feel on

my heart.

They sing songs of

a tortured soul.

And one mischievous

angel.

Page 5

His dark soul

needed light

An angel giggled

+ softened him so.

Page 6

my poems

have always spoken

but you

made them sing

Page 7

When you leave

my biggest fear

is that you

won’t

come

back

Bang, Bang, Bang! “POLICE! OPEN THE DOOR!”

And that was the last time she would ever see him, and she would never love another man, write another poem, or wear pearls, again.