Monsters In My Closet

I pushed the door open with my foot and walked into the apartment, the smell of bleach still heavy in the air. The box in my arms obstructed my view so I attempted to remember the layout of the place, stumbling against the counter a moment later. My arms sighed in relief as I set the box on the counter and leaned back, stretching my back.

No doubt I would feel this tomorrow.

“Good God, Becky. I believe these boxes get heavier and heavier each time.”

I smirked as I turned to see my best friend, Lilah walking through the door, balancing two boxes in her arms. “It’s because you know the faster you can get them up here, the faster you can go.”

Lilah set the boxes on the floor, brushing her hair off her forehead. “Now, Becky, I love helping you move.”

I laughed. “No, you don’t.”

“You’re right,” she said, placing her hands on her hips. “I don’t. I’m logging all these moves you know, for the time that I start moving all over the place. Do you think this will be it?”

I shrugged, opening the box marked kitchen supplies. Truthfully, I had moved, a lot, over the last two years, but I kind of hoped this was my last move as well. I felt like all I did was live out of a box. “Maybe I should buy a sailboat and sail around the world.”

Lilah laughed as she flopped into the chair that the movers had brought up earlier. “Yeah right. Then you would miss me, and I can’t live on a boat. I get seasick.”

I chuckled. Lilah did get violently seasick even on the smallest bodies of water. That and I would miss her. Lilah had been my best friend for five years, having met while I was stationed in Fort Hood, Texas. She attended college for management and marketing at Texas A & M after completing her Associates in Maryland. While I was taking part time classes to learn more about military history as recommended by my commanding officer. We were both involved in a running group in Killeen, not that either of us had time to kill, but I needed to run. Even though Lilah wasn’t in the Army like me, we clicked instantly and from there she had been my rock, the person by my side when I needed her the most.

I couldn’t imagine not having her around. “Alright, I guess I will stay on dry land then.”

“Good,” Lilah said, crossing her long legs. “Because you wouldn’t know what to do without me.”

I threw a kitchen towel at her and turned back to my box, a smile on my face. I was really excited about this apartment. The Realtor had called it cozy and full of natural light, which in turn meant tiny and lots of windows. All of which were true.

But I didn’t care. With it just being me, one bedroom was fine and as long as I had a place to write, it was going to be just fine. Plus, it was near a park, where I could do my daily runs.

A new start. That’s what I needed.

“I will move you all day long if it means that you won’t ever go back to Jack. I have never been so happy in my life the day you told me you were through with him.”

Turning back to Lilah, I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear, my chest seizing as I thought about my ex, or more like my most recent ex. It seemed that my luck with guys was non-existent and I was really, really good at picking out losers. Jack was in that line of losers unfortunately, and while I thought he was going to turn my luck around, he hadn’t.

In fact, I had spent more time babysitting him and his friends than I had attempting to build a relationship with him. Jack had enjoyed playing video games and had been pretty upfront with me on our first date. I had just thought it was a hobby.

But no, it was his life, literally. Turns out he played video games for a living and his entire existence was around his video games. I was second in his life and once he was done playing his games with his ‘boys,’ then I might get some time with him. While he wasn’t a bad sort, I was not in the mood to be second fiddle to anything. “He wasn’t that bad.”

“Oh my God,” Lilah laughed, covering her mouth with her hand. “I can’t believe that just came out of your mouth! He was horrible, Becky! I mean, he was like a kid still.”

I pursed my lips, crossing my arms over my chest. “Yeah well, he was going to be a great video player one day. That was his goal in life you know.”

Lilah burst into laughter, her face turning as red as her hair. “You are too funny. You could literally write a book about your relationships, I swear. It would be a best seller. Why don’t you write about them in your column?”

I toyed with the cuff of my sleeve, my grin fading. Lilah was right. I could write a book on my past relationships, but for some reason, I never included them in my relationship columns. I was “Ask Becky” in the life and style section of more than one newspaper, having built my career on solving other people’s relationship problems. To help supplement my income, I also wrote numerous columns for magazines under pen names, offering all sorts of relationship advice from what to do on the first date to what not to do on the second one. While my own relationships ended up being some of my worst ideas, I did enjoy helping others not make the same mistake.

Clearing my throat, I turned back to the box I was unpacking. “Are we gonna have pizza or Chinese tonight?”

“Neither,” Lilah declared, rising from the chair. “Speaking of relationships, I have a hot date tonight. He’s some sort of executive and we are going to this really ritzy restaurant.”

“Good for you,” I said, meaning it. Even if I couldn’t be happy, Lilah deserved to be.

My friend stretched her lean body before rubbing a hand over her hair. “Can I borrow that red dress of yours?”

“Sure,” I smiled. “It should be in the bedroom.”

She grinned and started forward, her legs colliding with the boxes on the floor, sending them careening. “Shit, sorry, Becky,” she said, kneeling as I moved to help her. My hands stilled as I realized the box she had knocked over, the one I like to keep hidden deep in the closet, even away from my eyes. The box traveled with me from place to place, but I rarely opened it these days, knowing each individual thing that was in the box by heart.

“Why do you still have these?” Lilah questioned, looking at the pictures, a frown on her face. “Man, you should burn them.”

I snatched them out of her hands, feeling embarrassed that she had even seen them and shoved them into the box, shutting the lid. A flush filled my body, partly embarrassment, partly shame that she had seen them. “I, I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Beck,” she started as I picked up the box, mad at myself that I hadn’t put it where it belonged the first time, carrying it to the tiny bedroom where my bed was already set up. Once I got done with the bedroom, it would be my calming oasis, a place for me to relax, but right now it felt like the walls were closing in, especially with this box in my hands. The closest thing to me was my bed so with a deep breath, I pushed the box under the bed, out of sight, but not out of my mind.

Never out of my mind.

I didn’t know why I kept them, really, but I couldn’t get rid of them, no matter how I tried to do so. It was much more than the pictures. Those memories, those scars, they would be with me until the day I took my last breath. No amount of destroying those pictures were going to rid me of what I had gone through.

“Becky?” Lilah called from the other room.

Drawing in a shuddering breath, I walked to the closet and reached for the red dress, pulling it off the hanger, willing my heart to stop from thundering in my ears as I made my way back to the living room. Lilah was waiting there, a worried look on her face and I forced a smile on mine. “Here,” I said, thrusting the dress toward her. “Enjoy your night. You will be a knockout.”

She took the dress, her frown only increasing. “I know you don’t want to talk about it.”

I stopped her before she could go any further. “No, I don’t.”

She nodded. “Okay.”

I walked over and gathered her into a brief hug. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap.”

She hugged me back before clearing her own throat, stepping back a few steps. We had never been good at the whole comforting thing, both of us so independent that we did not like to depend on anyone. It was one of the reasons I believe Lilah and I got along so well together and could literally read each other’s minds sometimes. “I’ll call you tomorrow and give you all the juicy details. Hey, maybe I can even give you a topic for your column next week!”

“That would be great,” I laughed as she headed toward the door. “Thanks, Lilah, I mean it.”

“Love ya,” she said with a little wave as she disappeared through the door.

I walked over and shut the door behind her, throwing the lock before sinking against it. I truly hoped that my friend had a great time tonight, that she had found her Prince Charming and she would have the happiness that I was never meant to have. No matter how hard I tried, how much effort I threw into my relationships, they never worked out. Either the guys were too immature like Jack, to have an adult relationship or the relationship itself never got off the ground. I had dated all sorts of guys: smart, sexy, funny, serious, fitness buffs, you name it I have probably had at least one date with the type.

But the happiness never came. In part, I was to blame, unable to truly enjoy myself with these guys. I tried to, believe me.

Drawing in a deep breath, I pushed myself away from the door. There was no use crying over spilt milk. My life was not the best in terms of relationships, but it had been a heck of a lot worse in the past years. My two-year stint in the military had helped me become a stronger person. The Army gave me the will to survive. I had survived, like I always did and one day I would find my happiness. I just had to be patient. I walked over to the desk I had set up near the window and opened my laptop, booting it up. I had an article due in a few days, part of a series of articles I was doing on first date disasters. We all had them, whether it was part of the plan or not. My research had brought some pretty hilarious ones and I was dissecting each one I had found to give some pointers on how others could overcome relationship disasters.

Pulling out my chair, I stared at the screen, waiting for the document to load. My past was what had made me the person I was today and those photos, those mementos, were nothing in the grand scheme of things. Lilah would have likely burned them a long time ago, but I hung onto them, reminding myself of what I had overcome. Even my best friend only knew pieces of what had happened, the entire, horrible story trapped inside me as it would stay. I had no reason to tell anyone what had transpired.

This was my new start, another start in a series of new starts that was going to work this time. I was going to stay in this apartment longer than a year and I was going to be happy.

Poising my fingers over the keyboard, I found myself smiling as I looked out the window at the beautiful orange and red skyline. The sun was setting now and the view of Occoquan Bay was amazing. Moving here to Woodbridge, Virginia was a good choice. It was going to work out, I could feel it.

Monsters in My Closet

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This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, organizations, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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Copyright © 2018 Margaret A. Daly

ASIN: B07MDQK5NC

Also in paperback:

ISBN-10: 1794235450

ISBN-13: 978-1794235458