Beloved Beast

I walked up to her apartment door, a medium sized, autumn leaf in my hand. I heard the soft clacking of her claws on the hardwood floor as she approached. I steeled myself, preparing to say goodbye.

Her powerful tail wrapped around my waist. She pressed her soft full body against mine and tilted her head back against my chest. She took my hand, holding it near her mouth.

I marveled at the ridges on the roof of her mouth, teeth radiating like the maw of a shark. I sat silently and waited for the worst, the pain which would soon make my hand feel like melted glass.

The protrusion appeared, erecting, widening and sharpening until it rested on my hand like an iron claw.

"I hate it when you do that!" I told her. "You're always interrupting my work without even asking. Why don't you knock?"

I looked down at the growing lump on my hand. A frigid wave of pain washed over me, followed by numbness. I looked down at my hand and saw that the lump had gone slightly smaller. I looked back up at the rock spider and asked what she was going to do.

She sighed, like she was tired of doing this every time. I suddenly got it. I was an annoying human. I loved her but wasn't making it easy on her.

She dropped my hand and walked around the room, trying to find a place to display the paperweight. I sat on the arm of the couch, watching her. She stopped, cocking her head to one side, looking at it from different angles. She moved the paperweight around, holding it in different positions. She was pondering it, or me.

I believed I knew which one it was.

I got up and approached her. My body, on autopilot, nuzzled her. I was saying hello, trying to comfort her, hoping to cheer her up.

"Hi," I said. I was standing behind her now.

She raised her head, her eyes fixed on mine. "Hi."

"What are you looking for?"

"What are you looking for?" she asked in return.

"I'm looking for a special way to say goodbye to you, a way that says that I still care."

The rock spider twirled a lock of her hair with her claw. "Did you know that the action of the strand of hair is a giveaway that they are evil?"

"What?"

"They're clean-like," she said.

"That's because I'm good."

"And how does that make you good?"

I looked at the ground, mumbling something inaudible. The rock spider cocked her head again, like she didn't understand what I was saying.

"See?" she said. "It probably should have been something more in line with a sound judgment."

"Fine," I said. "But if you touch me again, I'll pop you."

She chuckled. "I do like your vindictive side. Terrifying, but appealing."

I looked at our feet, avoiding eye contact. "It's just a joke, okay? I didn't mean it like that. You're the one that brought it up."

She nodded, taking the paperweight from one corner of the room and the phone from another. I twisted my toes at the thought of her leaving. I missed her.

"You were never evil," she said.

I shook my head. "I think you might have been into longer neckties than I was."

"You've got a point there," she said. "But I wasn't. I've never been one to do anything cruel. Funny, yes. Amusing, absolutely. But cruel? That's a trait that comes in stages and usually happens after you've lived three or four lifetimes, when you stop caring about consequences. And I've been caring about consequences my whole life."

She hung the paperweight on the end of the living room table. "I've missed you," she said. "Do you want to go for a walk?"

"Sure!" I answered. "Where should we go?"

The rock spider cocked her head, but then smiled. She pointed to the bathroom . . . which is where she went.

I started towards there, but stopped when I noticed a strange lump on the ground. I poked it, then looked at my hand. There was a large round indentation in the concrete. I tapped it again and it jumped up, rolling to the left. I tried to grab it and I chopped my hand open.

The pain was so intense that I screamed into the bathroom.

I sat on the edge of the tub, crying and holding my hand. She entered and sat next to me. I looked over. "The paperweight," I moaned.

I was referring to my attack. "What?"

"The paperweight."

She laughed. "You were holding a rock?"

I nodded. "It was a paperweight. I didn't know. I thought I was holding a paperweight."

She rummaged through the drawers, pulling out a roll of gauze and a syringe with a long needle.

"No! No, I'm fine," I told her.

She nodded and kept looking. She got up on her feet. "You sure? Because I'm out of tampons."

I laughed through my tears.

"Let me show you some of the things I learned while I was in hell," she said.

"Okay."

She moved closer, reaching for my hand. I flinched and pulled it back, afraid that she would try to grab it. She grabbed both my hands and held them.

I started shaking. I was afraid that she was going to break my fingers, or twist them backwards in a position that people aren't made to bend in.