Spiders
by
T. L. Sherwood
Popping out, pulling the door shut, standing as a wedge between me and the bathroom, my hinge hookup says, “Let’s elope!” and I nearly piss myself in confusion.
“What?”
“There’s a spider.”
“Spiders are everywhere,” I make for the door handle.
She grips it tight. “No. It’s big.”
“I’m sure, but—”
“We can leave right now, be in Vegas before the sunrise.” Her fingers edge their way up my forearm. If I had any weapons, she could have peeled them away, and I wouldn’t have noticed. She coos, “I have enough points, we could stay there for a week. Spider’ll be dead by the time we get back.”
I’m not proud of considering it. She was prettier than the picture she posted. Thinner, but her voice…soft, with an undertone of a siren calling to a rowboat in choppy water. I needed to use the bathroom. “Sure, it’ll be dead, or its baby spiders will overrun your apartment.” I leaned my shoulder against the door, snaking my arm around her, hand searching for the knob. “I’ll kill it for you.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” She jumps a little, mistakes my reach as a protective gesture, and falls against my chest.
Confounded this time, I spout, “Me? Dra—look, just let me go—”
“Go outside for that.” She stiffens in sulk. “Go home then if you won’t marry me.”
Did I mention her looks? Her Pilate’s arms, her Yoga legs? I thought it was strange she invited me to her place, but the building was in a good neighborhood and had an actual doorman. It wasn’t the kind of place you’d think would attract insects or vermin, but no one is immune to such things. I did want to scoop her up, carry her away with piss dripping down my leg if it came to that if it came with the promise of her being all mine. She never would be, though. Every sense I had told me the spider behind that door was a man.
“What?”
“There’s a spider.”
“Spiders are everywhere,” I make for the door handle.
She grips it tight. “No. It’s big.”
“I’m sure, but—”
“We can leave right now, be in Vegas before the sunrise.” Her fingers edge their way up my forearm. If I had any weapons, she could have peeled them away, and I wouldn’t have noticed. She coos, “I have enough points, we could stay there for a week. Spider’ll be dead by the time we get back.”
I’m not proud of considering it. She was prettier than the picture she posted. Thinner, but her voice…soft, with an undertone of a siren calling to a rowboat in choppy water. I needed to use the bathroom. “Sure, it’ll be dead, or its baby spiders will overrun your apartment.” I leaned my shoulder against the door, snaking my arm around her, hand searching for the knob. “I’ll kill it for you.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” She jumps a little, mistakes my reach as a protective gesture, and falls against my chest.
Confounded this time, I spout, “Me? Dra—look, just let me go—”
“Go outside for that.” She stiffens in sulk. “Go home then if you won’t marry me.”
Did I mention her looks? Her Pilate’s arms, her Yoga legs? I thought it was strange she invited me to her place, but the building was in a good neighborhood and had an actual doorman. It wasn’t the kind of place you’d think would attract insects or vermin, but no one is immune to such things. I did want to scoop her up, carry her away with piss dripping down my leg if it came to that if it came with the promise of her being all mine. She never would be, though. Every sense I had told me the spider behind that door was a man.