“You’re the worst thing that ever happened to me, Thomas. I hope I never see you again, and if I do see you again, I will stab my eyes out with my fingernails.”
Those were the penultimate words that I heard Vanessa say as she was throwing my belongings from our third-floor apartment onto the hard concrete below while the children of the complex watched, aghast at the remains of my PlayStation 2 lying shattered on the sidewalk. She continued to jabber after that, but by that point, I was too distracted trying to keep my stuff from being strewn all over the muddy ground as well as trying to keep the fingers, sticky from candy and filthy from dirt, of those snotty kids off my DVD’s and PS2 games. The statement seemed somewhat hyperbolic, but then again, one never knew with my darling Vanessa. For all her virtues– of which there were many: she was smart and sexy, giver of the best head I’ve ever received, et cetera– her behavior was uneven, at best. It’s strange how some good head can cloud one’s judgment; and until this point, I hadn’t borne witness to the extent of her mercurial nature. A couple months after we first started dating, she told me of her past relationships. I wasn’t really sure what to make of it, but it must have been the phenomenal head that kept me from picking up the basket of bread sticks and leaving the table at the Olive Garden then and there.
“Well, after Steve, I was alone for a few months until I met Roger. He and I were madly in love. We spent our last two years of college together, and we were engaged; we had even sent out the wedding announcements, but then I woke up one day, and I couldn’t stand the sight of him anymore. Every little thing he did irritated me to no end. I knew that I could not go through with the wedding. Secondly, I had to get out of the relationship, and I had to get out fast. So when he went to work one day, I packed up all my stuff, and I bolted. I haven’t talked to him since.”
“Wait, what? You abandoned your fiancee? Did you leave him a note or anything?”
“Y’know, I didn’t think to. I was so rushed having to pack up everything I own that I didn’t have time to leave him a note.”
“Jesus Christ.”
“Well, I’m a different person now. I even changed my name.”
“You’re kidding me, right?”
“No. I had it legally changed shortly after that little incident to prevent any skeletons from my past wreaking havoc on my future.”
“If your name isn’t Vannessa Mathis, then what is it?”
“Tom, that’s not important. What’s important is that I’m no longer that girl with the spinning head. I’m Vanessa Mathis, and I love you.”
That little episode played itself repeatedly in my head, and I had to wonder what she would do after she had finished helping me move out of my apartment by chucking my belongings from thirty feet in the air. As she was defenestrating my clothes, I wondered what had gone wrong in our relationship. How was this the end? What had happened to us? Things were nominal four months ago; she and I were deeply in love, spending each night making love and spending each day waiting for each night when we could be together again. But then, the tapestry of our relationship quickly unraveled strand by strand when Vanessa lost her teller job at the bank.
Instead of looking for another real job, Vanessa had decided that she would instead try to make a decent living by selling things on eBay. She had watched an infomercial on the auction site late one night when she couldn’t sleep, and she later told me that “if those stupid people can make $50,000 in a year hawking shit on eBay, then so can I.” What Vanessa had failed to realize was that like when starting any small business, one must have the necessary start-up capital before she can begin making a living on eBay. As such, she relied on me to fund her new business, and although I didn’t mind helping her out, I was slightly annoyed at her lack of foresight. Further to that, she hadn’t considered on which eBay category she would focus, and so she spent the first two months searching for her niche. Again, I took this in stride, doing anything I could to help her get started. Finally, after she started making money, I merely suggested that she consider repaying part of the money I had given her.
“Are you trying to make me fail?”
“No, Vanessa. I just need to pay these credit card bills, and you’ve been telling me about all the money you’re making now, so I was merely wondering if you could repay me some of the money I gave you.”
“I thought it was a gift.”
“Well, for the most part, it was, baby, but I’m going broke from the debt I accrued by helping you get started. Anything you could give me would be very helpful.”
“Sorry, Tom, I can’t right now. I need to buy more merchandise with the money I’ve made so far.”
“OK. Well, the rent’s due in a couple weeks. Will you at least have your half of that?”
“Of course, baby.”
In retrospect, it was unsurprising that Vanessa never produced the $575 for her half of the rent on our apartment. Instead, I had to get a job waiting tables in the evening, just so I could make ends meet and keep my money-hungry creditors from beating down my apartment door. Meanwhile, Vanessa’s online business flourished nicely, so much so that she bought more and more merchandise, but she sold less and less of it. Instead, she kept the pricy Luis Voutton purses and the Versace luggage. I didn’t say anything to her about it; I just assumed that she would sense my displeasure with her behavior and make a change for the better. Unfortunately, that never happened. She continued to blow her earnings on luxury items, and I kept working my ass off to keep our asses in that apartment and off the street. I guess it was my foolish devotion to her that kept me from leaving then– well, that and the stud in her tongue.
When this had gone on for a couple months, I had had enough.
“Vanessa, we need to talk.”
“Yes, we do, Thomas. I’m tired of your working until 2 AM every night. You’re neglecting me.”
“Neglecting you? ‘Ness, I have to work to keep that ass of yours in those $300 jeans and $50 thong.”
“Nonsense. I bought these things with the money I’ve made myself.”
“Yeah, but you haven’t repaid ANY of the $1,000 I initially gave you to help you make the money you are now.”
“What are you trying to say, that I used you?”
“Did I say that? No.”
“Well, you certainly fucking implied it with that tone.”
“Ness, I don’t want to argue with you. I love you too much for that. I just need you to start helping me pay the bills again.”
“Tom, I don’t make enough money to pay my half of the rent. I’ve told you that.”
“Yet you can spend $500 in Armani Exchange? What the hell, Vanessa!?”
“I bought those clothes for interviews.”
“WHAT FUCKING INTERVIEWS? You work from HOME!!!”
“Well, that still doesn’t change the fact that you’ve been neglecting me for the past couple months.”
“Oh Jesus, take me now. You are fucking impossible”
“Yes, Jesus, take him now. And get him out of my life.”
“You want me out of your life? Then FUCKING GET OUT!”
“How about I help you out? Here, you see this toy of yours? Consider it gone.”
“What the hell are you doing? That’s my PS2. I bought that with MY money.”
“Yeah? Well, you better go downstairs and get it before the kid in 111 does.”
Finally, she had finished heaving everything I owned out of the window.
“You had better leave soon, asshole. I’ve already called the cops.”
I didn’t even bother to respond. I knew she wasn’t lying, though she had probably lied to the police. I quietly, calmly collected my things and called to her one last time.
“Ness…I don’t know what I did, but I’m sorry.”
“JUST FUCKING GO.”
With that, I stuffed what I could of my things into the trunk of my car and drove away. Where I would go, I didn’t know. Technically, the apartment was in my name, so I knew that she couldn’t stay there much longer. I left my apartment that day feeling confused and saddened by the entire situation, although I knew I should not have been. The girl clearly had problems, and my being in her life merely compounded them. I stayed in a cheap hotel for a few days, at which point I got a call from my landlord, asking if I knew that my apartment had been sacked and burned. Further to that, he asked if I knew who was responsible for it. I told him what had happened between Vanessa and me.
“Well, we found her in the apartment, Tom. She’s pretty badly burned. She claims that you got hostile with her, gathered your things, and left.”
“How then, did I burn down my apartment?”
“She said that you came back that night and started a fire in the kitchen when she was asleep.”
“Randy, that’s not even possible. I had to work at Fiesto’s that night.”
“I don’t know whom to believe, Tom. Why would she do this to herself?”
“Because she’s fucking sick, that’s why.”
“Well, I have no choice but to press charges. Hope you have a good alibi.”
“It’s airtight, man.”
“I hope so, for your sake.”
Thanks to Vanessa, I was given a fresh start as well as a date in court for arson and attempted murder.