Ruthless Creatures by J.T. Geissinger

I lose the battle with trying to hold back tears. They slide
silently down my cheeks in meandering hot trails until they
drip off my jaw onto my shirt.
I don’t bother wiping my face. There’s no one here to see
me but the dog.
Closing my eyes, I whisper, “I can still hear his voice. I
can still feel his touch. I can still remember the exact smile on
his face when he kissed me goodbye before his hike the
morning of the rehearsal dinner. I feel…”
I inhale a hitching breath. “I feel like he’s still here. How
can I be with someone else when it would feel like cheating?”
Sloane makes a noise of sympathy. “Oh, honey.”
“I know it’s stupid.”
“It’s not stupid. It’s loyal and romantic and, unfortunately,
totally unjustified. It’s the memory of David you think you’d
be cheating on, not the man. We both know the only thing he
ever wanted was for you to be happy.
“He wouldn’t want this for you. You’ll honor his memory
much more by being happy than by staying stuck.”
My lower lip quivers. My voice goes high and wavering.
“Dammit. Why do you always have to be right?”
Then I break down and start to sob.
“I’m coming over. Be there in ten.”
“No! Please don’t. I have to…” I try to breathe, though it’s
more like a series of gasps. “I have to move on with my life,
and part of that is to stop relying on you so much as my
emotional support animal.”
She says drily, “You could’ve just said ‘crutch.’”
“It doesn’t have the same ring to it. Plus, I like picturing
you as a big green iguana I take with me on planes.”
“Iguana? I’m a fucking reptile? Can’t I be a cute little
dog?”