Just A Little Guy

I am standing in front of her -- she's a woman if I ever saw one. Tall, her body running down like water from her head all down to her feet. I'm close to death.

"What's that?" she says. There's a rustling in the closet.

"Oh," I say, flinging around but then looking back at her. "That's just my little guy."

She laughs. "'Your little guy'?" She mimics. Who's your little guy?" I can tell she thinks it's a cat or something. I'm slightly annoyed that she suddenly seems more interested in this and less interested in me.

He crawls out and makes a grueling sound. She shrieks.

"What the fuck is that?"

"Don't worry about it." I used to be scared to touch her but now I haphazardly grab at her as if the water's running away.

"No, Kyle, what the fuck is that?"

"Look." I'm frustrated. It's a defense mechanism I think. "He's just a little guy. He's not gonna hurt anyone." He makes a noise like he's throwing up.

"Oh my god."

"He hasn't done anything." I want the situation to end -- so badly. She seems too engrossed in it to feel the same.

"Is it like an animal? Why do you let it walk among your clothes?" He crawls up to her with a gargling sound. Just to sniff, but she shrieks again and jumps away, onto the bed.

I bend down to him. "Look, he's not-"

"Don't touch him!"

"Why not?" God, don't cry, not now.

"Because he's disgusting!" There's a pause, and then suddenly she laughs. I've forgotten how drunk we both are -- the interruptance made us both sober up. But now she's laughing, her drunk, jumping laugh. "Oh god, I'm hooking up with a guy with a thing in his closet."

I say nothing.

"No, but seriously, don't touch that, he looks slimy and-" I can feel her looking at me. "I was hoping you'd touch me, not that."

I look at the floor with one hand on his back, pushing back tears. "Look, if you don't like him maybe you don't like me."

"What?"

"I said if you don't like him, maybe you just don't like me."

"You're not a slimy guy, Kyle, even if you keep one as a pet." A thick silence ensures, the type I usually try to avoid.

"Look," she says. "Maybe I'll just go. This is weird." She always had a way with words. She puts on her coat and leaves the room -- I hear my apartment door close behind her.

God, I think about killing the little guy.