Inevitable Death

I live in a small two bedroom house in the beautiful sunny state of CA. My house might be smaller than some but it is cozy and with the hardwood floors and detailed molding that signifies a house of its age I overlook the draftiness and the slight breeze that whisks through the cracks in the creaking old windows and doors. It has character my old house and it is that character that is underappreciated in my generation of demanding non-stop activity that pushes us to constantly overachieve.

I have only lived here a short time but I am happy to share my house with three beautiful young girls. One of which is seven, one who is twelve (she just had a birthday) and one who is fourteen but will be turning fifteen in just a few weeks. The three girls are all lovely young ladies who are not always as respectful as one might hope but have good hearts and softness about them that only youth possess.

In addition to the four of us there are two dogs of vastly differing stature. One is a Labrador Retriever and the other one is a Chihuahua mix of some kind and can’t weigh more than 15 pounds. He is cute compared to his lumbering overly exuberant playmate with her whiplash tail that can only be described as a weapon. While she does not wield it intentionally the affects are the same as I have now been beaten with this flailing appendage on several different occasions. It is not very convenient to be constantly reminded that all objects must be kept at a strict minimum height level in order to avoid the inevitable smacking that the tail can dish out.

The last of our group is the father of the three girls who is middle aged having just turned 42 and with the exception of occasionally raising his voice seems to be kind hearted and easily expresses his genuine love for his three daughters. I love sitting back in a corner as he snuggles the little one in his reclining chair the two of them sitting close together as we all watch an episode of the Amazing Race or American Idol on the flat panel TV hanging above the white painted brick fireplace. He professes not to like American Idol but on the occasions where the three girls are at their mother’s house it is easy to see the contradiction as he watches the show without them as well.

We have only recently moved into our little two bedroom sanctuary as the father split with his soon to be ex-wife about a year ago. The divorce was not well received from the oldest daughter and her adjustment has been extremely difficult. The two younger girls are taking things as well as can be expected but as with all fractures of a family it is not the easiest thing to transcend. Families are made up of all shapes and sizes in today’s society so we have to be ready to openly accept the myriad of structures that are thrown our way.

We have our ups and downs but as families go we are happily making our way through life dealing with the odds and ends and keeping our routines spiced up just enough not to get bored. The father tends to work a little too much but on the days where his daughters are present he comes home on time, cooks a nice meal with vegetables and the rule is there is no TV until after 9 PM. He often makes exceptions starting around 8:30 but in general the beginning of the evenings are filled with meal preparation, a nice family dinner and on most evenings reading.

We are somewhat well read as far as families go. There is always a supply of new books on the modern square coffee table sitting in the middle of the family room. The two little ones as the father likes to call them enjoy reading while the oldest has to be pushed most of the time to sit down long enough and focus her attention on words. She as most high school aged kids prefers her entertainment in the form of her cell phone or her myspace page which was recently taken away. I hope she soon discoveries the joys of reading and the places one’s mind can take you if given the nudge of a few well chosen words placed together to form a magical place.

The only thing that I can admit to finding truly sad is when the father takes the three kids and the two dogs away for the weekend to their lovely house in Twain Harte and for some reason he continues to leave me behind. He speaks to me on occasion but through today we have not spoken about that one glaring issue that I can’t understand and breaks my frail heart. The only reason I can fathom is he must be waiting for me to get stronger and once I have matured to a state of readiness he will then include me in this activity. We continually discuss the stories of this place and I can’t wait to be included and feel like I am finally accepted as an equal.

The only other people that periodically visit our house is a friend of the fathers who comes over every few days. She is nice enough but doesn’t really speak to me directly. I see them holding each other on the couch and I get jealous as I do appreciate the few times where he and I can be alone. We will always have the two dogs with us but I would never count them as competition for affection and the girls and I will always get along splendidly bar the minor altercations that sporadically occur.

It is now approaching the end of May and we have lately been keeping the blinds raised and at times we have been opening the windows as well. It is a wonderful time of year when it starts getting warm and the sun shines almost every single day as a soft breeze blows through the house. I feel my skin getting that soft silky smooth texture that accompanies the springtime weather as you bask in its glowing feel. I as most have to be careful as I see my skin beginning to turn red and the last thing I want to do is get burned. The twelve year old just recently returned from the latest family trip to Twain Harte and she had that unhealthy burnt red tint and I am sure the next time I see her it will be pealing back several layers of lost covering.

There is nothing more refreshing than sitting in the sun as you gulp down a nice full drink of water letting the cool liquid nourish you as it flows through your limbs nourishing your essence. I remember hearing somewhere that the human body is made up of 98% water. That seems like it is too high of a percentage but we are all vastly made up of liquid and can’t afford to get overheated without the replenishment of the much needed source of energy.

We have modest furnishings in our little home with only a couple of couches, one chair and enough beds to get us through the chilly nights. We have a dining table and a couple of end tables minimal amount of dressers and the father is always proudly mentioning that everything was bought used on Craig’s List keeping the costs to a minimum. He is a frugal one that father as he turns the heat off or way down at night and during the first month I was here I must admit to getting shivering cold at times. While he watches what he spends on everything possible he contradictorily spends a fortune at times on frivolous items surprising me with his lack of judgment.

Happily that is my biggest complaint. Listening to the stories of others as they come and go I have it better than most and count my blessings that I have a family as good as the one that I lucked into. As I now sit in the family room waiting for the father to come home and realizing that tonight is a night we will spend with the kids I excitedly look forward to the evening. The clock seems to be taking its time as it clicks by each second in slow painstaking motion with the minutes tick tocking back and forth in steady rhythmic fashion. How can time move so slowly yet not actually slow down. Perception plays tricks on my mind at times as I sit impatiently looking out the window on the sunny day just slightly beyond my reach.

Finally the father has made it home walking through the front door somewhat out of breath. He has ridden his bike to work again today which is about eight miles away. It is not a long ride but I have noticed that he is starting to look trim from the cardiovascular exercise. I have also observed him spending a renewed effort in the mornings with his pushups and sit up routine. He attempts to do 250 pushups and 300 sit ups every morning. He falls short of this on most occasions but even his feeble attempts are showing some results in his physic.

As he puts away his bike he walks in my direction and for the first time in several days’ addresses me directly stating that tonight will be a special night. He will be making some cheeseburgers for the girls and with me in attendance he is sure the meal will have a delicious flare that has been lacking for the past several months. I have no real understanding of what is making tonight special but I begin to fathom the possibilities of a surprise that he is so thoughtfully instigating.

After he spends a few minutes admiring my skin and complementing my complexion he moves to the bathroom where he quickly freshens up changing out of his sweaty t-shirt but leaving his shorts on for what appears the remainder of the evening. He is always in a little bit of a hurry on nights when the girls are coming over to get the meal prepared so he can spend as much time with them as possible.

I hear him in the kitchen as he is turning on the oven mashing the hamburger into patties and I feel myself getting caught up in his exuberant energy as he is now quickly banging pots and pans. It is with surprise when he approaches me directly for the second time this evening and I now admire the strength that he possess as he picks me up rather easily with one hand carrying me with him carefully setting me way up high on the countertop. He has never asked me to help in the food preparation before so this will be a truly historic evening indeed.

I feel very little as he detaches me from my slumbering state of comfortableness and contemplate all the possibilities that the evening might hold. I don’t understand the large slab of wood that he places me on and the large knife sitting next to the block has me somewhat unsettled. I have now know this man for several months and it is with a little trepidation that I am watching him fluidly navigate on his continued course. Why would he insist on my staying put and what could be using this oversized knife for?

He again is complimenting me on my beautiful skin tone and how my perfectly proportioned figure sits stoically entrusting him with my life as I have done with no other. He hovers over me staring into me like he owns me and I feel my nerves beginning to perk detecting a hint of something in his voice that should have been enough to warn me of the impending dilemma quickly approaching. I felt I now knew what was going to happen and the scream that welled up inside my physical being was stifled by his hand as it held me firmly in place.

With his fingers wrapped completely around me keeping me from moving in any direction he laughingly stated how delicious I looked and what an honor it would be for him to have me for dinner. Not have me to dinner but have me for dinner. The subtle dynamics of this difference vastly underscored the meaning of what was about to occur. The times that I had spent in his family room, with his children keeping him company and holding my breath waiting patiently for their arrival. I was part of this family, a member of this group who loved and needed love as much as any other living thing would.

As he raised the knife slowly arching it downward I realized how little the father really cared. He pretended to like me, spent time talking to me nurturing me to a healthy full complete existence but in the end it was all for his own personal carnal pleasure. The knife entered me slicing downward cutting through me as if I were soft as butter. It didn’t feel as I had imagined as the life fluids began draining from my insides onto the slab of wood that had only recently been placed like a coffin awaiting my arrival. He did this again and again as I no longer struggled but fell into sliced pieces like dominos on a playing board.

Once this was complete he through both the top and bottoms of my physical remains in the left drain of the sink where the hot water ran slowly over me cascading down what was left of my physical remains. I now lay in pieces a mere semblance of what I had once been and I realized that I was only going to remain conscious for a few more short seconds. Through the fog I heard a knock on the door and realized the kids must be here as they too were apparently going to partake in this carnage of my frail soft being.

The last words that I heard uttered came from the father in his excited happy tone that I had grown so accustomed through the many stories I had heard him reading out loud to the two little ones. He uttered almost under his breath “Kids, we are finally going to eat our first fresh tomato. I just finished slicing it for the cheeseburgers and dinner will be ready in just under five minutes.”