Threatening Zippers

zipper on a suitcase, image to the short story about the human condition of staying with someone who hurts you.


Threatening Zippers


Rico Lamoureux

All Rights Reserved


Like a butterfly flapping its wings a half a world away and in so doing sending energy that will slowly form into a powerful storm by the time it reaches us, your untrustworthy words have once again created chaos in our little world that I have tried so hard to keep peaceful.

Ironically, this time your fury blew in mere minutes after we had made love, holding soon met with conversation, such an embrace showing no signs of the sudden thunderstorm about to break.

But that’s exactly what came striking down to tear us apart as I reminded you of the promises we made to each other, you now swearing of having never uttered such words in pursuit of following impulsive desires rather than moral integrity.

And so the rain begins to pour, hurtful words pelting each of us as we strive to defend, marching off into separate rooms only to march back in when one of us feels we have a valid point. But this ends up only adding fuel to the fire until we once again are blown apart.

And then my gut begins to twist, telling me what I fear most, that I’m about to hear that dreaded sound of you playing your ace.

Most psychologists would agree with the saying, “show me a couple that doesn’t argue and I’ll show you a couple that hasn’t been together that long.” It’s part of human nature, part of the human condition. But most couples have the sense to know it’s temporary, just a spat of emotions, nothing to etch in stone.

But not you, a callous willingness to throw away years upon years of the love we have built as if it were nothing, as easy for you as flipping off a light switch, and so you throw forward your ace, the sounds of those threatening zippers opening and closing with such force, such anger as you pack your bags, claiming with such conviction that you’ve had enough and it’s all over now. So final, so permanent, such a willingness to throw it all away for something so small.

But then again, this is part of who you are, is it not? Such overreactions forbidding you from getting over what others would forgive and forget before closing their eyes for the night. ‘Don’t go to bed angry’’ A quote I framed and placed upon the wall opposite our bed as a reminder to us both that at the end of the day nothing should be stronger than our love for one another. And yet I can’t count how many times I’ve fallen asleep looking up at that missed message through teary eyes while you turned your back and dove ego first into an angry snore.

Whether we’re going to end up as a statistic or not all rests in my hands now as you head for the door. I know in my honest heart I’ve done nothing to deserve this, any logical observant minds clearly being able to see this. But those same rational minds would tell me what my soul can’t handle, to set you free out into the world to self-implode once you realized just how good you had it with me.

And so I follow my weak heart and move in to stop you, wishing with all my soul that this is really the last time we’ll ever go through such an intense level of disagreement. But that logical side of me, that side that dares to have me wonder in the possibility that I would find someone more deserving if I were to only let go, that tormenting truthful side lets me know that I really know better than to believe we have fought our final round.

And so I continue to live life in prevention mode, trying my best to keep at bay those threatening zippers.


Tip jar with a purpose…

RICO LAMOUREUX has been writing stories for over three decades now. He feels the greatest tale he will ever tell is to his future child, of how important it is to follow one’s passion. Part of the story involves the fact that the universe ended up placing a price tag on Rico’s dream of having a child(in the form of needing a surrogate), and so now he’s working on making this dream a reality. If you would like to help bestow the gift of fatherhood you can do so here…

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