Missing Piece

I knocked on his door and waited, shifting the cardboard box I carried to hold it better. My mind toyed with the idea of turning around and running, but I fought the temptation. This needed to be done.

A couple seconds later, Zak answered, wearing only boxer briefs. I never understood how he wore those things.

We stared at each other for a long moment, unsure of what to say. What exactly is the proper way to greet someone with whom you broke up with the previous night? Finally, Zak stepped aside. "Would you like to come in, Codi?"

"Sure," I said, filing past him.

Once I was inside he shut the door and yawned, rubbing his eyes. Obviously he had just woken up. Seven o'clock was probably a little to early to make this call, but I'd wanted to get it over and done with.

"Do you want to sit down?" he asked.

"No," I said, holding out the box towards him. "I just came to give you this--your stuff.

"Oh," he said, slowly reaching out and taking the box.

"It's all there," I said, trying to sound casual. "Your physics and theology books, your family guy DVD's, your Gryffindor shirt. Oh, and your record player."

He nodded, still staring at the corpse of our relationship in it's cardboard coffin. "Thanks. I haven't gotten your stuff together yet, but if you'll give me a minute-"

"No, no, it's fine," I said, shaking my hands. "You can keep it. Really."

I looked at him and could tell he understood-I wanted him to have something to remember me by.

"Alright," he said. "If your sure."

"I am."

We stood still, not talking, defiantly not making eye contact. The clock's ticking second hand seemed to scream at us.

AWKward.

"Well...goodbye," I said, and turned towards the door. I had my hand on the doorknob when I remembered.

"Oh, wait," I said, spinning around. "There is one thing of mine that I do want back."

"Yeah? What?"

"The, well...you know."

Zak's eyes widened as he understood. "Oh, that. I was really hoping you'd let me keep that."

"I know you'd like to, but I just can't part with it," I said. "It's best I take it."

"Alright. Give me a second," He said, setting the box down on the coffee table. He walked into his bedroom and shut the door behind him. I could here movement and rustling about. I pictured him rummaging through his closet, trying to find it.

God, what if it was damaged!

I looked at the room around me, trying to take my mind off that thought. Bittersweetly, I realized that this might be my final visit to this apartment. Just last year I had helped Zak paint the walls (thought I never liked this shade of light blue). And I remembered, not long after we had first started dating, when he bought that couch, and I helped him carry it up the stairs. In the past three years I had spent a lot of time here, even more so than at my own place. The realization that I was about to end a chapter of my life hung in the air.

Zak emerged from his bedroom carrying a shoe box.

"I hope that's good enough for you to carry it home in," he said, handing it to me.

"Yeah, it should be," I opened the lid.

Resting in the shoebox on a soft bed of old wash cloths was a piece of flesh. Not a hand, foot, leg, or any other recognizable appendage-simply a hunk of living human. It was pale and soft, with blue veins running over it's surface and red slime seeping from it's pores. If you watched it closely you would notice it expand and contrast in a weird jellyfish like, sluggish fashion: the flesh was breathing. I stroked two fingers across it's surface, and it quivered.

This was the piece of myself that I had given Zak when I fell in love with him.

I closed the lid. "Looks like you took good care of it."

"Only the best of care."

Again with the long silence and heavy goodbyes. After a few minutes which felt like hours, I closed the door behind me and walked towards the stairs.

The piece of myself in the shoebox moved about gently. I clutched it tightly, and, despite the pain I felt, began to smile. For the first time in three years I was completely myself again. Not that it was torture letting Zak have a piece of myself. In fact, what I really want to do was turn around and shove the shoebox in his hand saying, "Here. Keep it. Let's work this out." But that wasn't the route to go, and there was a strange peace which being whole brought me. Perhaps this was going to be easer than I thought.

I was almost at the steps when the weight in the shoebox lightened suddenly. I opened the lid and gasped.

The piece of myself was gone.

All that remained was several washcloths, all of them ripped to shreds, and a gaping hole in the bottom of the box.

The piece of myself was on the floor moving, inchworm like, towards Zak's apartment. I leapt on it, but it was surprisingly quick and evaded my grasp. Within seconds it had arrived at the door, leaving a trail of bloody slime behind it.

It threw itself at the door not once, twice, but three times, mimicking the sound of knocking. When Zak opened the door, the piece of myself crawled towards his foot and wrapped it tiny fleshy body around his leg, the way a little child clings to a parent.

Zak looked down at the thing, at first confused. Then realization spread over his face. He looked up at me, trying desperately to hide a smile, but I could tell he was happy. He didn't even have to voice his question.

I nodded and sighed. What else could I do? "Keep it," I said. "Just be sure to take good care of it. I'll come back in a few months and see if it's ready to leave."

Zack nodded and picked up the piece of me, holding it tenderly to his bare chest. A trail of slime was already sliding down his stomach as he stroked the piece of myself gently. "I will," he said. "Don't worry, Codi. It will be fine."

The piece of myself quivered a little, obviously reinforcing that statement.

Once again un-whole, I descended the steps. This was just great, I thought as I walked down the sidewalk, the wind bitterly cold. Now I would have to keep coming back here for god knew how long. What I thought would be a clean break from Zak was going to be extremely messy. I did the math on my fingers and decided I would come back on the seventeenth of February-a month and a half from today. Surely that would be enough time; It would be ready to come home by then.

But, deep down, I knew the piece of myself would never be ready to return.

Keyword: Missing Piece

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Comments (3)

Posted by Ashutosh 2008-08-12 10:28:26 Hmmm Interesting piece. Surreal. I liked it. Overall, I like the idea and the way it's been executed. It's quite simple in it's own way. These things can become awfully complex and yours wasn't. I could read it easily and it made sense to me without putting in any effort. Slightly awkward sentence constructions, some grammatical errors though. The story needs some editing and pilishing. + Report this comment
Posted by resistanceisfreedom 2008-08-12 18:51:35 .... i really liked how you presented this story. it was very interesting how you made the piece of yourself as an actual living thing in the story. it was clever, i thought. + Report this comment
Posted by shirin 2008-08-17 02:51:56 .... it was interesting!i enjoy it alot,you know i would be happy if i had that peice! something that can be used to remind us of past good relationship,sonething that can be a reason for coming back... + Report this comment

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