REMlationship: A Story of Heartbreak and Phantasmagoria

By Lebron James Bond and Rochelle Levy

     There are hard breakups and there are breakups that send you into a spiral of nightmares that grow increasingly difficult to discern from reality.  REMlationship tells the story of one man as he attempts to navigate through his heartache, facing questions about what love is and how his own choices may have lead him down

• Language: English
• Publisher: Christian Porter
• Release date: Jan 22, 2016
• ISBN: 9780997078206

Book preview

REMlationship:

A Story of Heartbreak and Phantasmagoria

by Lebron James Bond

This is a work of fiction. All characters, organizations and events portrayed in this are either products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously.

Copyright © 2015 by Christian L. Porter. All rights reserved.

Contributors: Rochelle Levy, Luther Berry

ISBN 978-0-9970782-0-6

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For the dreamers.

REM sleep is defined by the presence of desynchronized (low-voltage, mixed frequency) brain wave activity, muscle atonia, and bursts of rapid eye movement (Carskadon and Dement, 2005). It is also referred to as paradoxical sleep.

CHAPTER ONE

My alarm clock starts blaring at 5 AM every morning. It’s supposed to give me enough time to work out, but I never go to the gym. Usually, I just lay there for the next hour and a half hating the fact that my commute will probably be another hour and a half, if the traffic isn’t terrible and the trains are on time. I’m pretty sure almost everyone in the world can relate to some degree: Doing a routine that you dread to deal with people that you don’t like to get a pay check that isn’t enough to pay for stuff that you need to live. My budget was spandex tight with rent, car note, and dodging the calls from the vultures circling the carrion of my bank account. And still none of that mattered.

Six years of gradually increasing happiness. I spent the first three trying to convince her that I was worth it. Anyone that truly knows me knows that’s a hard sell. Chasing and courting. Making sure to open every door, pull out every chair, even walk on the outside of the sidewalk. What’s that about? We just ate pizza, I don’t know if I’m ready to die for you just yet. My mom would be proud. She was proud. Happy that I had finally settled down. She was just as surprised as I was. She loved me. She did. But she knew who I was.

Looks like you’ll be getting married after all. Well, shit, I remember her saying shocked.

We’ll see, I’d laugh. But I believed it. She died believing it.

Three years together and each one was better than the last. I loved harder than any of the other girls I dealt with in the past. Unconditionally, I guess. I overlooked the flaws of the individual trees to see the beauty of the forest. I see now, I was really projecting what I wanted from her: to overlook all of my self-destructive shortcomings.

My parents split up but I was grown by then, developed enough in my manhood to not suffer any type of emotional effects. No major ones, anyway. More important than that, I’m grown enough to realize that my mom and dad were a man and a woman before I was a thought and they still had the same problems that any man and woman had. My therapist says otherwise. Well, said otherwise. I’m pretty sure she didn’t know what the hell she was talking about so I stopped going.

My single friends always grimaced when she came up in conversation. I had become the annoying one that recounts stories of what him and his girlfriend did over the weekend as the buddies listen on with strained faces. Yeah, I was that guy. They even started calling me My Girl because I used to say that all the time in conversation. My girl this, my girl that. Me and my girl went to the fabric store over the weekend and…you get it. There was a reoccurring theme of the conversations, though.

"How did you pull her?"

Your guess is as good as mine, man.

That was a sign in itself, if I would have noticed it. My friends joked that she was out of my league, which was a polite way of saying I didn’t deserve her. It was probably more that they knew what I would inevitably do to her, and that she didn’t deserve it. Said I would unknowingly blow everything up like I was texting in a mine field. Literally, someone said that. The ribbing came far too frequently for it to be solely jest. The laughs started to sting. My defense was to laugh along with them. And a part of me still didn’t care what they said. It was awesome walking into restaurants and the owners knew us by name, made my broke ass feel almost famous. She taught me how to swim. That was kind of a big deal, I was scared shitless. With anybody else I would have been embarrassed. But with her? It just worked. We just worked.

Until we didn’t.

CHAPTER TWO

My alarm clock goes off and I turn to turn hit the snooze button. It’s blinking 2:14. Must be messed up or something. A storm might have knocked it off since it looks cloudy outside. Really dark, too. All that disappeared when the smell hit my nose. Baconl. It’s luring me out of my bed like a cartoon.

I swing my feet around and hop out. My head’s feeling kinda funny. Maybe I’ll take some meds before I head out to work. Or…? Nah, I gotta ease up off of that anyway. I walk down the stairs and turn the corner to the kitchen.

There