by Marie Davis and Margaret Hultz.
Katie lovingly kept the passive-aggressive home fires burning for five years. “Miss Innocent” was her self-ascribed moniker. She reveled in her virtues with a half-smile and a light chuckle following each masquerade of kind chidings.
When Carla told her she was thinking about painting their gloomy apartment, Katie sneered cheerfully, “Well, honey you do love to start projects.”
Carla frowned, Oh God! Of course she means that flippin’ garden again. Who knew it needed so much water? And that “special” garden hose for my birthday—why didn’t I at least hook it up to the damn spigot? Oh no, I’m constantly living down to my inadequacies.
Katie beamed, “I love you sweetheart.”
Over lunch one day Carla finally admitted she wanted a puppy.
Katie replied, “Sweetheart, remember the belly-up goldfish? Or that stunt at a ‘dog walking business’ and how could we possibly forget last summer’s garden?”
What the hell? Does she keep a list of everything?
Katie was a math teacher and Carla could almost remember a time when she thought her quick abilities to calculate inordinate numbers was quirky and sort of fun. Nowadays, math had turned on Carla. Her lover reminded her way too often how she just didn’t add up—in a caring, chirpy way of course.
As their years together wrenched along, Carla often wondered why she stayed in an agonizing love affair? I could find someone else—probably—eventually—maybe? Am I so bad off that I like this bullshit? Am I so damn pitiful that anyone is okay if someone—Some one—is sharing my bed? Carla shook her head. It was unfortunate. No, she needed the emotional beatings—which made Katie right about everything—right?
Back home from work one Thursday afternoon Carla found the letter.
My Dearest, Dearest Carla,
By the time you get this letter I will be standing on the roof of the Capitol building. Très bold, don’t you think? I’ve made a list, my darling, and the negatives far outweigh the positives. Carla please don’t spend the rest of your life feeling guilty that your deficits led me to jump.
I loved you. Cherish my memory forever . . .
Katie
Carla’s mouth fell open. Dropping the letter to the floor she darted across the room and turned on the evening news.