Rat Poison

It had been two months since Lily walked out on me. I was too ashamed to admit that I was going to spend another night crying my eyes out and watching Friends episodes when Quince called me.

"We're all going down to the bar. You have to come. That crazy Russian fuck is going to be there."

"Who, Dimitri? Really?" I had to think about it. Was Dimitri worth breaking my solemn vow not to have any fun for? After careful deliberation on the subject I hung up the phone with no ceremony at all and pulled on a pair of jeans and a red hoodie.

At that point I had no stake in life so I had no qualms about walking to a bar at 10pm in the less than reputable downtown area. I was a skinny white kid with a mop of brown curly hair who had never once taken a karate lesson much less landed a punch on anyone and yet I was completely unconcerned with being randomly shanked by angry gangbangers for the measly twenty dollars I had in my ironic Bad Motherfucker wallet and my out of date iPod. Luckily for me this isn't one of those narratives where it's told from beyond the grave.

MacMurphy's was somewhere that my friends and I had been coming since college. It was cheap, it was gross, and it was a source of mischief in our lives that we were always hard pressed to turn a blind eye to. As I walked in, I was greeted by the familiar sight of Quince and Tom sitting near the back. I knew right where to look for them. As promised, Dimitri was there. Judging from the flush color of his cheeks, it seemed like he'd had a leg up on the others as far as how many beers he'd had that night.

As a precaution I glanced around the bar. I was clinging to some junior high hope that Lily might be there with one of her girlfriends and I could forgo the male bonding, instead skipping right ahead to the portion of the evening where I would get my still-beating heart ripped out of my chest and shit on in front of everyone. Figuratively, of course. Then I remembered that she'd never liked the place anyway.

Quince was the first to notice me. He waved me over to the table that we'd normally occupied whenever we could. It was nothing special; just another table that had been utilized past it's prime, covered in beer, sweat, and other assorted bodily fluids. I took a seat next to Tom across from Quince and Dimitri, trying to smile casually.

"Wipe that fuckin' pathetic look off your face. I saw you over there. You were thinking about her, weren't you?" Quince asked.

"No. I was thinking about what your mom's pussy would look like after I finished eating a Twinkie out of it."

There was a peel of laughter from the group, Quince shaking his head at me as he wiped the half-psychotic grin off of his face. "Fuck you, asshole. I could just tell you that myself I wanted." There's a pause as he leaned in, squarely looking me in the eyes. "I thought I told you, man. That girl was a fuckin' whore. You know, you just know she was fucking around. Girl like that doesn't leave a guy like you unless there's some dick on the side, boy."

A guy like me. Boring, over-sensitive, too analytical, and too sentimental. I knew he what he meant. If I hadn't known the prick since grade school I might have been offended. But he was right. He always would be. "Jesus. Lay off the guy," Tom said quietly. "They were engaged for two years." I couldn't help but notice that Dimitri had been unusually quiet since I got there, yet he was smiling at me like a wolf. His handlebar mustache only added to this mental caricature of him.

"Engage means jack shit fuck all. You find a woman who cook you egg and bacon while same time let you fuck her from behind? You find gold." Dimitri's English was shaky at best, his accent still thick even after fifteen years in America.

Quince and Tom laughed at him while Quince shook a finger at Tom and I. "See? That. That right there. This man knows what he's fuckin' talkin' about."

"Jesse boy, we got a story for you tonight. Yes we do. They told me it  cheer you up, da? So I sit here all night, think of a good one for you. You ready?" He asks, his beady black eyes staring at me expectantly as much the others are now. I wave Debra, the same waitress who has been working here since before I was born over, and order a double of whiskey. I can tell I'm going to need it.

"Ready as I'll ever be. Lay it on me."

"This is gonna be good," I heard Quince mutter to no one in particular as he pounded back another beer. Tom seemed to look more doubtful on the subject.

"I date girl once too, Jesse boy. Hair blonde like daffodil, eyes blue, big round titties and little ass. Beautiful. American dream, da? She and I move in together two months. Longest two months my life. I knew she was crazy when I start fucking her. First time she take her shirt off, cuts all over her arms. Cuts everywhere when she takes the rest off. Some still bloody. I say, 'What the fuck's that?' This is what she say: 'Sometime it hurt. I take my mind off by the cuts.' But you can't argue with regular pussy." Dimitri paused and took a long drink from his beer while Quince shook his head. Tom was in a state of some quiet emotion that I would put between vague horror and subtle distaste.

"So I say, okay. Maybe this crazy manageable. Wrongo, bucko. Little things at first, you know. She told me she like to shower with the lights off. Dangerous, but okay. Yeah, whatever, right? Didn't ask about it. Figured safer not to. Then one day I give her money, tell her go buy grocery. Okay. She come home from store. She buy cigarettes, coffee, soda, soup, noodle. All good thing. But then I notice. She buy twenty fucking packs rat poison. I look at her then. I ask about this. 'What you need so much poison for?'"

Then we're all silent and drawn in. It was one of the chief reasons we tried to invite Dimitri to the bar or run into him. He always had the most insane stories. It was hard to believe that the man had collected such a compendium of trash in his lifetime. My whiskey came and I thanked Deb, nodding to her as I pounded back the first shot.

"All she say was that we have rat problem. Probably true. Place was shit hole. But twenty box a little much. We start argue for a bit. She walks out, I keep watch TV. Fine, fuck it, whatever. She come back a little later, smell of fuck. That smell, you know? She smell like pussy and sweat and dick. We fight more that night. Ends up with me getting sloppy seconds off guy I don't know. Not first time." Quince let out a boisterous laugh that made Dimitri smile. There was something in his smile that I didn't like. His eyes were changing too.

"Two week later she come in with pregnancy test. Oh fuck, I'm thinking. She tell me that she think we have problem on our hands. She does test. Positive. Now I really think oh fuck. She start talking about how we get married. But then something else happen. She decide she needs last shebang, da? I tell her fine. Maybe you drown the thing in alcohol. Pickled. Then we don't have paternity test." Dimitri laughed, reaching into his pocket for a pack of cigarettes. It was a cheap brand that was going to stink the whole room up even more in two seconds, but no one cared. He put the cigarette into his mouth and light up, taking a few puffs before he continued.

"We go out to some club she pick. I don't know what the fuck. Places like that really piss me, you know? Rap music, flashing light. But my fault. I told her she could pick. We go inside and sit down at the bar. She has drinks, dances by herself and with other guys. Fine and dandy as they say. I sit at bar get shitfaced for last time since I know it's all downhill when you become papa. After bit, I see I lost sight of her. Probably out fucking some other guy, I think. Whatever. But no. Worse." Dimitri took another pause, Quince's eyes starting to bulge out. He'd always had that insatiable curiosity. He was the kind of guy who always looked when someone said 'don't look'. There was a silent urging to Dimitri that he should press on and after taking another drink of beer, he did.

"I start stand up, leave. I'm almost to exit when big black guy drags bitch to me. She's crying. Makeup all down her face. She won't look at me. Her top is off. Cuts showing all over arms. Not like her. She covers up most time, but I figure they were doing something. But now I wonder what she done. He looks at me and says, 'She yours?'" Dimitri snickered. "Loaded question, as they say. I nod. Don't know what else to do. So then he shove her at me. She cling to me, crying and saying how she sorry. Now I'm really getting fucked up in the head. Then I notice that he's missing his arm. Right up to elbow." Dimitri shook his head a little bit. "He says, 'Yo bro. Sorry for trying fuck her. Everything okay 'til she see arm. Then she tell me stump fuck her. When I tell crazy bitch to go away, she start screaming and crying. She grab my arm, start trying force it in her pussy. I restrain her and bring her here. She tell me she with guy with mustache.'"

Quince's jaw had dropped open. Tom was looking like he might be sick. I, on the other hand, was cool and composed. Inside my stomach was churning and I could feel my palms getting sweaty. Even if I wasn't reacting visibly, I was on the edge of my seat. All of us were still silent until Quince started to let out his asthmatic laugh.

"I look at her. She look me in the eyes, look away. The guy wasn't bullshit to start with. But now I know it's really true. I apologize to him. He didn't even look mad. Just... sick. So I drag her out to car and put her in. All the way home so angry with her. She cry and cry, ask me to forgive. 'What the fuck is wrong with you?' I ask her. She keeps mumbling over and over that she don't know. Everything quiet for a bit. I think she's asleep when I hear some plastic. Look from corner of my eye. Her hand is in her purse. I keep looking then while I try to drive. She take box of pills out of purse. At first I think maybe some kind of Tylenol, you know? No. Nothing simple. I see label. Rat poison. She got four, maybe six tablet in her hand already. I start swerve off road when she put in her mouth. Too late. By time I get stopped and try to take it out of her hand, she already has swallowed. In heat of moment, I backhand her. Call her stupid cunt." Dimitri didn't look proud of it. But he didn't look apologetic either. It was what it was to him. Quince wasn't laughing anymore. Tom had turned a shade of green that every school child with an unexpected flu wears at least once during lunch time. I had reached for the second shot of whiskey brought to me and was lifting it to my lips, downing the liquid as if it would help Dimitri along.

"She start crying, spit all over. I floor it to hospital because I know then... she really crazy. Like she has to make sure, she take knife out of purse and start cut her arms with it. Cut over cut over cut. She bleeding everywhere, screaming, 'It make me feel good!' By then I not even tell her to stop. Too busy trying to dump her ass at hospital. We get there and I drag her in. Even here, big scene. Blood all over. She freaking out. 'No, they come get me if I go here! No!' I tell them she ate the poison. They dope her to calm her and patch her up. I ask them... run pregnancy test. They said they have to anyway. I sit in waiting room. I don't care about her now. I want know if she really got baby inside. Doctor comes out little later, says I'm going to be a father. No congrats." Dimitri snickered again before finishing his beer and raising his hand for another one.

After a pause, I finally spoke up. "So what did you do?"

"Doctor came back out. Said she had mental record illness. He said they were going to send her somewhere for psych eval. I only laugh. After that, who need doctor to confirm crazy? I leave her there. I go home. I think for bit. Then I  toss her things out in hallway, get mine into boxes, leave. Landlord not pissed til he finds what she did. Every time we eat chicken, bitch put bones under mattress. Whole place starting to stink. In closet she wipe blood all over walls. Never use it, never see it. He found knives under couch cushions. I get slapped with fine while she in mental hospital, pregnant with some poor bastard's baby." I could tell that Dimitri was including himself in the poor bastard category at that moment.

"So that's it? You just left her there? Did she ever find you? Don't you wonder if it was your kid or not?" I asked, vaguely wondering what I would do in the same situation.

"Da, I just left her there. She never found. Maybe she still there. I don't give fuck. And no. Don't think it my kid. Had vasectomy when I was when twenty-four. Least what I tell other girls now." That made Quince laugh and give his nod of approval while looking over at me.

Finally, Dimitri looked at me, stared me in the eyes. "Maybe next time you have bad break up, you think it not so bad, eh?" He reached out to pat my cheek lightly before calling for Debra, just returning with his beer. "Another round for my comrades, then more stories."

It was going to be a long night.