Break Up

Friday, November 3

 

Struggling to contain her feeling of violation, Lina sat on the narrow bed with her arms folded and legs crossed, while Chad angrily rifled through his trailer. He got no right going through my stuff!

Methodically opening every drawer and cabinet, Chad moved to the compartment over the table. Setting a large green plastic storage container on the dusty tabletop, he began pulling out handfuls of books, CDs, and a portable player.

“Hey, I listen to that!” Lina complained, leaning forward and putting her hand out.

“Go to hell. You’re lucky I don’t kick your two-timing ass out. The second you find another place to live, I’m doing just that. Good thing for you Luke’s letting me couch surf.” Pulling out a black vinyl photo album, Chad flipped through the stiff cardboard-backed pages. “When I get time, I’m burning every picture with you in it.”

“I done mine in the day you went to jail.” Least I will after you disappear.

Toting the container over to the bed, Chad banged it down on the floor and knelt beside the bed; he reached to open the storage compartment underneath.

Lina leaned forward and slapped her hand over the door. “Ain’t nothing’a yours in there.”

Everything in here’s mine,” he said, pinching the skin on her wrist and twisting hard enough to raise a red welt.

“Ouch!” She jerked her hand back. “You cain’t treat me like this!”

“Goes around comes around.”

Opening the compartment, Chad glanced within at the clutter of junk. “Can’t believe how much crap I’ve stashed in here since Mr. Tollman gave me the place four years ago.” He pulled out a Frisbee, a worn pair of black-and-white sneakers, and a mildew-riddled brown jacket. Leaning back, he flung the coat onto Lina’s lap, sending up a thick cloud of mold spores. “You can have that.” He smiled as she recoiled in disgust.

“The stink reminds me too much of you,” she said. Picking up the jacket between her thumb and middle finger, she slung it at Chad’s head. “Jerk.”

He ducked and it landed on the linoleum floor behind him.

“That’s it for now,” he said, tossing the last few belongings he wanted into the container. Snapping the lid closed, he stood and carried it outside to put beside an identical green bin in the back of his Nissan. Three cardboard boxes already filled the passenger seat. Without another word or backward glance, Chad climbed in his truck and drove away.