ocean, she would tell her students, hands on their bellies as they
breathed in and out in waves, she would teach them how to breathe,
all the while unable to breathe herself, thoughts of where he was and
who he was with stuck in her chest.
she would arrive at his home at 6, in time for coffee or a drink,
then, he would go out. she did not know where, or with whom,
sometime after midnight he would return. I need to be alone, he
would say as he turned away from her on the bed or shut himself up
for hours in the bathroom, then, sometimes, he would roll on top of
her and bang away, then, he would sleep,
she had been asked not to answer the phone,
at the end of 2 weeks, he could not look at her anymore* his eyes
sought the floor, the walls, the plants, he had scheduled a meeting
with several theatre people for that afternoon, she was not invited, he
suggested to her that she take her clothes and leave, they had accumulated into a sloppy pile.
that night as she lay again in her own bed the tarantula was right by
her left shoulder, it seemed to rear itself up on one side and lunge
out at her, its hairy legs just brushing her shoulder, nothing was
there, she looked, she checked, she looked again, nothing was next
to her. but still it was there, right next to her, just beyond the edge of
her eye.
she did not remember when she had first seen it. her eyes had been
open, that was certain, they were open and still she saw it. it was in
front of her eyes, superimposed on everything she saw, or it was just
behind her and she seemed to see it out of the back of her head, if
she closed her eyes it would disappear for a moment then appear
again, vivid, clear, magnified a hundred times, sometimes it would
be on the edge of her vision, almost out of view, but not quite, as if its
shadow was falling over her face.
she would be in a room, she would see everything in the room as
surely it was, chairs, walls, radio, clock, television, books, all truly as
they were, but the tarantula would be there too, just behind her or
just to her side.
now, in bed, in grief, in her sorrow and shame, having been thrown
out, having failed, he did not love her, banished in shame, cut out,
told to leave, his eyes cold and indifferent, he could not look at her
anymore, he could not stand the sight of her, it was there again, over
her left shoulder, a chill went through her. she blinked, she stared,
she closed her eyes, still it was there.
the next months were cold and sweaty, filled with nightmares,
desperation, phone calls in the middle of the night just to hear his
cold cold voice.
she had known now for a while about his other women, women just
like her. how had God made so many women just like her. smart,
strong, killers every one. this one and that one. she hated them all,
all of them, she hated them and she hated anyone like them, anyone
who reminded her of them, any woman with ambition, she hated,
any woman with strength, she hated, his woman if he ever finds her.
