Poison

By Amy Teegan

From the author of No Day Like Today comes a collection of short stories about how we destroy others and ourselves.

A secret, a manipulation, a predator, a disagreement between neighbors and more.

Each story in this collection explores how we hurt each other in every way possible.

• Language: English
• Publisher: James Mountain Media
• Release date: Apr 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393461456

Book preview

Poison

Poison

Stories

Amy Teegan

Contents

Date

Bruises

Marriage

Cocaine

Support

Strangers

Bedsheets

Intuition

Waffles

Funeral

Rooted

Tattoos

Running

Staircase

Reunion

Groceries

Free stories!

Author Note

Acknowledgments

Also by Amy Teegan

About the Author

For Spencer,

who sees me

Date

Have you been here before? she asked, skimming the menu.

Yeah. A couple times. He looked over her shoulder for the waiter.

Do you have a recommendation? I think I’m in the mood for fish.

My ex-wife always used to love the ribeye.

Oh. She paused. Yes, that looks good too.

I told you about my ex, right? Ryan’s mom?

I’m not sure . . . I thought you told me your son was named Jeremy?

"That’s my oldest. I haven’t talked to his mother since he turned eighteen. No, Ryan is my younger boy. His mother and I used to come here all the time."

Oh. That’s nice. She returned her eyes to the menu.

Of course, she always had to tell me not to order too much alcohol. Was always watching the budget, that one.

Yes, well, cocktails are expensive.

Yeah. He chuckled. But I don’t have any other vices left. My doctor wants me to cut back, but I’d rather be dead. Might as well enjoy the poison while I still can.

Oh, I’ve never thought—

That’s what I tell Jeremy sometimes. He laughed again, loudly, drawing attention. Make him promise that when the day comes he’ll take me out into the forest and put me out of my misery. Like you do a dog.

She blinked at him, forgetting what she had just read on the menu. Uh. Um. Are you going to drink tonight?

Of course. In fact— He signaled for their waiter. What would you like?

Oh, well, I guess . . . white wine?

White wine for the lady, whatever you think is best, and I will have a whiskey. Double. One ice cube.

As the waiter left to fetch their drinks, he turned his attention back to her.

Tell me about you. You write video games?

I do. Yes. Right now it’s mostly providing the necessary dialogue for patches, and preproduction for the next game.

He leaned forward on his elbows. I bet you’re great at it. I could never do that. I’m just so impressed by all of this.

She was taken aback, but laughed. You are? Any reason in particular?

Oh, just the way you handle yourself, and the way you communicate. Just the little I’ve seen in the texts. You seem to be very insightful about people. And when Eric told me about you, I was just so intrigued. I couldn’t wait to learn more.

She smiled. Wow. Okay, thanks. Yes, I wondered what he had said. He’s a good salesman.

No, no. He put up his hands. I’m sure he didn’t say anything that wasn’t true. I kept asking him questions though.

Well, he didn’t tell me anything about you.

Nothing?

She shook her head. That you sell life insurance and you’re a father of two and that you had seen my photo and were interested in meeting me.

Well, what else do you want to know?

The waiter silently delivered their drinks. She caught up her wine immediately and took a sip.

She tilted her head, inspecting him. What do you want to tell me?

He shrugged. Anything, I guess. I feel like I’m pretty transparent.

I guess, um . . . tell me about your sons.

Oh. He sat up a little straighter. My boys are the best part of me. They’re good kids. I’m really proud of them. But I don’t want to violate their privacy.

I— Okay. Sure. She looked down at the candle flame—right in the middle of the table, directly between them—and then back into his face. She took a deep breath and smiled. What did you want to be when you grew up?

He clenched his jaw, and his face flushed. I was supposed to be a priest.

The waiter appeared at her right side. Have we decided?

She glanced across the table.

Go ahead. He nodded and gestured to her.

She looked down at the menu. I’ll have the grilled scallops.

Oh, I thought you were getting the ribeye.

No, I—

That’s what I’ll have. He addressed the waiter. Ribeye. Rare. And another whiskey. He drained his first glass and handed it to him.

After the waiter had left, she tried to revisit the previous conversation without upsetting him. When I was little, I wanted to be an astronaut.

He laughed. Well, I suppose you’re young enough that there were actually female astronauts when you were a kid.

Well. Yes. Sally Ride. I have such a strong memory of my parents making a really big deal about it. They pulled out the newspaper article and sat it at my spot at breakfast. I must have read that ten or twelve times just in the first few days.

That’s one of the downsides of being a white man, you know. Since I was raised being taught I could be anything I want, the expectations were really high. There was no way I was ever going to live up to it.

Oh . . . I hadn’t thought of that.

Whereas all you have to do is get one more step up on that ladder than some other girl and it’s a goddamned parade.

He was smiling, but she couldn’t smile back.

She took another sip of her wine and was dismayed to realize it was already half gone.

His phone vibrated where it sat on the table. He looked down, tapped a couple buttons, and chuckled to himself. Picking up the phone, he leaned back in his chair and typed out a text.

She watched silently.

By the time he was finished, their food had arrived. She ordered another glass of wine, promising herself it would be the last.

Wow, this smells great, he said, returning his phone to its spot by his plate. I’m so glad I ordered the ribeye. You should try this.

No, thank you.

He cut into the meat, then groaned in pleasure after tasting it. I mean it. You have to try it. You’re not one of those hippies who doesn’t eat red meat, are you?

Before she could answer, he had already cut a piece of red-rare steak and placed it on the side of her plate. The bloody juices ran down the slight curve of the dish, onto the closest grilled scallop, mingling with the lemon and butter of her meal.

She stabbed her fork into the beef and tasted it. He was right—it was delicious. But it’s not what she wanted. She was satisfied with what she had ordered. She cut herself a piece of her scallop and took a bite.

They ate in silence for a moment.

Her second glass of wine, and his second (double) whiskey were delivered.

She reminded herself to pace this last glass. Eating would help. She could feel her head swimming.

Eric tells me you live out near Marketown. You renting or . . . ?

No. She cut off a small piece of asparagus and ate it.

He raised his eyebrows. "Wow. You own a place out there? Nice. Not bad for a single girl. What did you say you do again? Play video games? It’s amazing you could make that much money doing something like that."

"No, I create video games. She set down her silverware and gave him her full attention. I’m the Lead Engagement Designer for the biggest release Hemisphere Online Games has had in the last five years. It is part of my job to make sure that the release can be that big, that everyone who plays it loves it. And I’m great at my job." She spoke a little bit louder the longer she went on. Upon realizing this, she took another sip of wine, forcing herself to stop talking.

Yeah? That’s incredible. I’m really impressed.

His whole face lit up; his frank smile disarmed her.

Thank you.

I’m pretty good at my job, but I don’t have anything nearly so impressive to tell you. I mean, sure, yeah, I hit almost twice my quota every single month, but— He shrugged. That’s just the job. I just need to like people and like talking to them and the job handles itself. Easy.

Yes . . . sure . . . that does sound easy.

Oh, absolutely. You get to know your client, you really become friends with these people, and then you know exactly what will trigger them to spring for the life insurance. You know what their fears are and what they value. Once you know the right triggers you can pretty much get them to do whatever you want. And you get to do the whole thing over steak and whiskey. He raised his glass in a mock toast, chuckled, and took another bite of steak.

After a pause, she ventured, You know I don’t want life insurance, right?

He laughed, loudly and heartily. Several of the tables nearby turned to look.

Oh, of course. Of course. That’s not what this is. Like I said, Eric told me all about you, and I just couldn’t resist. I’ve been on a handful of dates since my separation, but you are the one I was most excited about. I’m just so fascinated by you.

Thanks. She drained the rest of her wine. She needed more. She needed to have that shield.

So, you live alone in a big house over in Marketown. No roommate or anyone waiting up for you to come home tonight?

She looked behind her for the waiter. A third glass of wine was in order. It would be her last. She would make herself stick to that.

My neighbor knows I’m out and she’ll be looking for me to come home. She’s lovely. She and her husband have lived there for over ten years and have more or less adopted me since I moved in. My house was in rough shape when I bought it, so they’re grateful I’m helping to shore up their own home’s value.

Oh, you didn’t buy a new, fancy house?

"No. No, this fixer-upper was more in my budget. It was livable, so I could move in right away, but since basically everything needs to be updated I get to make it my own. I’m really happy