Cancers

“Have you decided how much you hate me yet?”

“If you’re talking about Linda, she doesn’t hate you. She finds you beautiful and intelligent and kind, all of which frustrates her because she’d like very much to loathe you. As for me, I like you as a woman and I respect as a doctor, but I think it’s sad that you don’t have any self respect.”

“What makes you think I don’t have the utmost respect for the masterpiece that is myself?”

“You wouldn’t get involved in this mess with the love triangle if you did.”

“I didn’t ‘get involved’ with it; the situation developed like a weed in a garden.”

I interrupt her there, immediately defensive of my best friend.

“So Linda is a weed in the garden of your perfect marriage, which up until two weeks ago, no one here knew about because he kept declaring how Linda was the only one he wanted.”

“Are you asking if I resent her, because you’ll be disappointed.”

“Will I?”

“Yes, I resent her. I resent her because she’s younger and hotter than I could pretend to be, because she’s rapidly rising in her promising little career and everyone thinks she’s brilliant and she’s that kind doctor who keeps this hospital afloat and because she’s holding her pride and so is that terrible husband of mine. And, speaking of him, I resent his beautiful, brilliant, compassionate girlfriend because every laborious day of that woman’s life makes it even more impossible for me to heal the cancers of my marriage.”

“Cancers, huh? This whole situation is just a stage three cancer bowling through everyone in a five kilometer radius,” I half-groan. Megan nods her agreement, a pensively annoyed expression falling across her features.

There’s no one involved who isn’t in pain and it’s all over the exact same things. Except me, but I’m not really involved, I’m just trying to be protective. Linda and Megan get along surprisingly well, all things considered, but I had almost forgotten before that conversation that everyone was hurting. And the three of them, at each other’s throats though they may be, are brewing in resentment all because of love. I never want to fall in love, looking at what it does to people. It’s like being given a rose just so you can bathe it in tears.

Thank you for reading, and please do let me know what you thought. This began as an excerpt of a larger body, but I thought it worked better as a piece of a micro-fiction. I’ve been doing a lot of different things with it over the past few weeks, and it turned out like this.

Read my last short story here:

My past few posts have been poetry- prime example being “No One Needs a Mouth Anyway”- and essays on topics such as mental health and sexual harassment, including “Nevertheless the Problem Persists”.

I write poetry, prose, and personal pieces. All images are mine unless indicated otherwise. Feel free to leave feedback on my work anytime; I hope you enjoy.

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