REVENGE
My sides ached from the laughter. Rebecca, my work bestie, was telling another one of her jokes when the text arrived. How cute. Mark was always thinking of me. “I know you're having fun, but don't forget you have a busy day tomorrow. Just thought I'd mention it. Love you.”
Rebecca had paused telling her joke and was reading the text over my shoulder. “OMG Leigh! Did he just do that?”
“Do what?” I asked naively.
“What an asshole. He's basically said you need to go home.”
I stared at the message dubiously. “He’s just being thoughtful, isn’t he?”
“Seriously Leigh, you need your head examining if you believe that. My dad used to say...”
And that was the trigger. “My dad used to say...”
Her words were drowned out by the memory of Dad flooding my senses. I could see his face, brow furrowed, eyes intent and piercing, wagging a finger at me. “Let me tell you this, young lady. Do things because you want to do them, not because someone else wants you to.”
Mark arrived in my life a few months after Dad passed. He made me feel alive again. Loved. That’s something I’d been missing, so I didn't notice Dad's words fading into the hazy shimmer of an old memory. Still there, but with the fragility even a gentle breeze could blow into nothingness.
Mark said I was his soulmate, and plied me with gifts and compliments. How could I not fall hard for him. So hard, I’d rather stay in and listen to him talking about himself than being out having fun with Rebecca. How could I have been so stupid? The manipulating bastard. Rebecca was right. My dad was right. I'd allowed myself to become a victim.
Rebecca's voice interrupted my thoughts. “You ok? You look like you've seen a ghost.”
“My dad. Oh, and Mark and I are done.”
The following day, Mark didn't fail to disappoint. The irony of only seeing the obvious when you know it's there. “You look tired. Next time, come over to mine and then you'll look much fresher for your meetings.” My dad's face loomed in my head, wagging his finger. A warm comforting feeling enveloped me, the arms of protection from beyond the grave. This was the kind of love I needed.
Life without Mark led me on an interesting journey. Rebecca had told me the best way to get your own back on a narcissist was to show them you thrive without them, you don't need them. So I did. We did. I cringe now about how over-the-top we were, and we made sure to post and re-post our exploits on social media. Mark gradually faded from my thoughts, but I clung to the memory of my dad like a life ring in a rough sea.
The still tender tattoo on my inner arm served as a permanent reminder. In a plain font it simply read, “My dad used to say...”
Rebecca had paused telling her joke and was reading the text over my shoulder. “OMG Leigh! Did he just do that?”
“Do what?” I asked naively.
“What an asshole. He's basically said you need to go home.”
I stared at the message dubiously. “He’s just being thoughtful, isn’t he?”
“Seriously Leigh, you need your head examining if you believe that. My dad used to say...”
And that was the trigger. “My dad used to say...”
Her words were drowned out by the memory of Dad flooding my senses. I could see his face, brow furrowed, eyes intent and piercing, wagging a finger at me. “Let me tell you this, young lady. Do things because you want to do them, not because someone else wants you to.”
Mark arrived in my life a few months after Dad passed. He made me feel alive again. Loved. That’s something I’d been missing, so I didn't notice Dad's words fading into the hazy shimmer of an old memory. Still there, but with the fragility even a gentle breeze could blow into nothingness.
Mark said I was his soulmate, and plied me with gifts and compliments. How could I not fall hard for him. So hard, I’d rather stay in and listen to him talking about himself than being out having fun with Rebecca. How could I have been so stupid? The manipulating bastard. Rebecca was right. My dad was right. I'd allowed myself to become a victim.
Rebecca's voice interrupted my thoughts. “You ok? You look like you've seen a ghost.”
“My dad. Oh, and Mark and I are done.”
The following day, Mark didn't fail to disappoint. The irony of only seeing the obvious when you know it's there. “You look tired. Next time, come over to mine and then you'll look much fresher for your meetings.” My dad's face loomed in my head, wagging his finger. A warm comforting feeling enveloped me, the arms of protection from beyond the grave. This was the kind of love I needed.
Life without Mark led me on an interesting journey. Rebecca had told me the best way to get your own back on a narcissist was to show them you thrive without them, you don't need them. So I did. We did. I cringe now about how over-the-top we were, and we made sure to post and re-post our exploits on social media. Mark gradually faded from my thoughts, but I clung to the memory of my dad like a life ring in a rough sea.
The still tender tattoo on my inner arm served as a permanent reminder. In a plain font it simply read, “My dad used to say...”
