A Break-Up

"Come on, baby. It's just a little thing I want to do with you." Sam's voice was almost whining. He narrowed his muddy brown eyes and rubbed his pasty, flabby gut in a weak attempt to look sultry. He leaned towards me on the bed and rubbed my leg with his free hand. I found myself rolling my eyes skyward, as I prepared myself for another argument with him.

"It's my body, Bulldog. And I'm not ready to let you touch me down there yet." Why couldn't he get that simple fact through his thick skull?

"But it will make you feel really good, baby."

I tried to remember the last time he called me by my real name. It seemed that the only word he could utter in reference to me was "baby." He always introduced me as his girl, never his girlfriend or his fiancée. The diamond engagement ring he gave to me for Christmas was starting to feel like a mere trinket.

"And your point is?"

"Well, don't you want me to make you feel good?" Sam's beefy hands started pawing me. I flinched as his long, grimy fingernails tickled my fair skin. He grinned at me, showing the yellow teeth that he hardly ever brushed. What had I seen in this bastard in the first place?

"Yes, but there are other ways to do that..." As I shrugged him off, I could sense the anger rising in Sam as his lips pursed under his ratty mustache. I felt my inner voice sigh as if to say, "Here we go again."

"But I want to make you feel good, baby. When we get married, we're going to do it anyway. So I might as well do it now to get you used to it."

"I don't want to get used to it, Sam," I snapped at him. My own anger was starting to build up at Sam's utter refusal to take "no" for an answer.

"What did you call me?"

"Sorry. Bulldog." I had to fight back the gag rising in my throat. He looked more like a half-starved yellow mutt than a cute little bulldog. He was trying to distract me from the original argument in hopes that it would weaken my resolve to not allow him to touch my most private area before I was ready. It wasn't going to work this time. "But I don't need to get used to it right now. We have plenty of time for that."

"But don't you love me?"

"Of course, I do, sweetie."

"Then why won't you let me touch you?"

"I just don't want you to." Why did I bother? I knew this was going to go nowhere, but I was determined to win this argument with him. I had lost so many battles and given in to his sexual advances so many times that I felt that I just had to win this one. Call me crazy.

"Dammit! I've done everything for you. I've tried so hard to change and you won't give me this small thing."

"Because it's my body. How many times do I have to say that?"

"All my life I've been shit on, baby! My dad left my mom and me. I was beat by my stepdad. And every girl I have ever been with has used me. You're no different. All you do is take. You never give." He squeezed his eyes tight, trying to work up some tears and add credibility to his overused, cliché-ridden sob story. "If you loved me, you would allow me to touch you there for just five seconds."

"And if you loved me, you would respect my wishes. I keep giving in to you just to shut you up, Sam. I'm sick of arguing with you."

"Well, I'm sick of you always giving me mixed signals. I never know what you want. Just let me touch you there tonight and I'll never ask again. I promise."

My hands tensed as memories of his "promises" came back to me. They were little things that he only paid lip service to and never followed up on. Like the time he promised to get tickets to a concert that I really wanted to see, but they "fell through" at the last minute. God, I wanted to hit him then. I jumped off the bed and avoided his hand as it reached out to stop me. Picking up my jacket, I started for the door. "Your promises ain't worth shit. I'm out of here."

"Baby, don't leave me! I love you."

"Fuck off. You don't know what love is." I paused for a second at the door and turned back to him. I felt a mix of sadistic pleasure and sorrow in watching his perfect little world revolving around pity and sex crumble as I slipped the engagement ring off my left ring finger. He whimpered as I threw it onto the nightstand.

"Baby, don't do this! I can't live without you."

"What about all the women that you told me want to have sex with you, Sam? I'm sure they'll keep you company." I grinned as Sam bowed his head, both of us knowing that was just another one of his wild stories to get me to cling to him as much as he clung to me. Yeah, I was being a bitch. And I loved it.

"Please, baby..." As I turned to the door, I could hear him sniffling. When I opened it my heart felt lighter than it had ever been. Not even Sam's noisy tantrum could stop me. The high-pitched pleas fell on deaf ears. The tears fell for someone who had ceased caring. I found myself grinning even wider as Sam pounded his pillow and himself for nothing.

But it was a small click that stopped me. I turned inside the threshold to see Sam pressing a revolver to his temple. He was still crying.

"Baby, please don't go. I'll kill myself."

He had threatened suicide before to make me stay, but he never actually held a weapon on himself. I hesitated for a second, thinking that he may actually be serious this time. But I then realized that I had stopped caring about whether he lived or died. I wasn't kidding when I said that I was sick of arguing.

"Sam, you ain't got the balls."

The coldness in my voice made Sam shiver. He pulled the trigger, and I flinched along with him. But there was only a metallic click. I was right. He put the revolver down and reached both of his hands to me. His eyes were downcast. Perhaps he knew that making me stay was a lost cause.

"Baby, please..."

"Goodbye, Sam."

I could hear Sam's dramatic wailing as I walked down the hallway and out of his house. Outside, I saw a crow flying away from the house. The crow followed me down the road, as my feet started skipping to the beat of a tuneless song in my head. As I heard Sam's distant cries for me to come back, I started whistling. The crow cawed at me, and I cawed back. I didn't even blink when I heard the gunshot. I kept whistling.