Promises and Pomegranates by Sav R. Miller

of trouble if I’d just listened.”
“You and I are nothing like your mother and me.” I take her chin between
two fingers, keeping her in place while I lean in and force her to look at me.
“What I feel for you isn’t even in the same fucking universe.”
Trying to pull away, she huffs when I refuse to let go. “Then why
couldn’t you tell me?”
Pinching my eyes closed, I let my head fall forward, shame flowing like a
river through me. It empties in my blood, making me feel more like a
goddamn monster than any crime I’ve committed ever has.
Off to the side, we hear footsteps as the house lights dim even more, and
a voice asks the people in the box next to us if they need any refreshments
before the show.
“Ice?” a familiar voice asks, the immediate recoil of my soul at the sound
making me regret not just putting a bullet in her at the house.
I hope her face is purple and swollen. A nice little homage to the way I
arrived at that hospital all those years ago.
I’m a little surprised they still showed up, and so soon after me. Perhaps
they’d been hoping to corner me, and instead found themselves escorted to
their seat.
Elena jerks her chin from my grip, and I let her go, blood rushing
between my ears as my body tries to block out the sudden onslaught of noise.
The director trots on stage, asking everyone to be polite and courteous.
A sniffle here. The unmistakable crinkling of a chip bag being dug into.
Another sniffle. Someone’s baby crying slightly farther away, all completely
audible through the musical score.
Tensing up, I lean back in my seat, attempting to focus on anything but
the noise around me.
The auditorium darkens until our box is almost pitch black, the stage
erupting in flashes of color as the lights crew introduces the first scene. I
don’t know shit about ballet, so for the first few minutes of the show, I sit
watching the dancers as they flit about in time with the music.
But somehow, even as the orchestra crescendos, I still hear the little
noises from before. They worm their way into my brain, little parasites
looking for bits of sanity to feast on.
I hear the ticking of my old Rolex watch and that fucking pendulum
statue. The slurping sounds Rafael made the day I went to his office and
convinced him to give me Elena.