I asked Andy out on Wednesday and felt like a my seventeen year old self trying to get ready or the prom all the way to Saturday. I didn’t know what I should do, what to wear, what topics to talk about, in fact the whole nine-yards on what to do on a date was lost to me. I went shopping three times, found a dress, but decided against it right at the counter only to pick out something from my closet. I didn’t think to look there because all I thought I had were work related outfits. My version of the dress code consisted of black skirts and a simple blouse with my only variety was a solid color jacket or sweater every day. For the first night in a long time, I wore something with a pattern in it. I picked out a lavender sweater, with a velour dark blue skirt, matching tights, and a pair of cute calf-high wedge boots that were outrageous in their heel height.

Andy was a lot taller than me and I thought to make standing and kissing easier, if it came to that. I doubted but really, I just wanted to wear those boot for the date I was ecstatic about and really it was the getting out part than the date. But when I got to my hanging mirror on my bathroom door, I questioned it all. Why had I even agreed to do what I was doing? I didn’t know? I thought about Lidia’s advice as I fluffed the shoulders of my sweater so it would hang right. She would want for me to find someone way too young for me, go to a club, and get drunk.

I did that and I found Cockroach.

“You’re an adult, try an adult relationship,” I told myself on the way out of my room and turned to my fish tank and said. “We could go out only a few times and if we decided we weren’t each other type, then fine. I can go out and have fun, right guys?”

My fish all went to the top of their aquarium so I walked over to feed them and continued talking. “Its mutual beneficial going on this date like you guys and your snails.  He probably doesn’t get out much. I don’t either since I’m talking to a bunch of fish.”

It was a ten minutes till seven when I heard a fist on my door.

“Coming,” I shouted sliding on my heel to my couch to get my coat and hand bag and swung the door open to be greeted by the stubble of Cockroach’s chin.

“Pam,” he smirked.  

“You,” I rasped venomously. “Go away,” I snarled and swung the door to slam it in his face but it bounced off his shoe. He waltzed into my apartment.

“Believe me, I don’t want to be here. I just want my stuff,” he said walking straight to my new loveseat and sat his greasy butt down. I moved to my kitchen using my bar counter to separate us.

“I don’t have any more of your trash. Everything that belongs to you is in storage, a storage building you have the key to,” I reminded him.

“Well my albums aren’t in there.”

I stared at him incredulously. “Why would I have a bunch of records I can’t even use?”

“Did you sell them,” he accused.

“Oh, so this is about money,” said reading between the lines easily. “You want them so you can sell them. Well news flash, I don’t have them. I don’t have anything of yours.”

“You were the last one looking at him,” he went on.

He always came to me with petty crap.

“Yeah like six years ago. They were in some washed out looking Rubbermaid, I don’t have any washed-out looking Rubbermaid. I don’t even own a Rubbermaid. If I do, I would gladly look though them to get your stench out of here but not tonight, I’m going out with a friend.”

Cockroach snorted at me derisively. “Just like you brushing me off. That’s all you do now.”

“Let’s see, why I would brush you off,” I said tapping my chin and foot for a second or two, as if I had to think about, then exclaimed coming to my brilliant conclusion. “Oh I know why, you cheated on me and you divorced me. The only obligation I feel is to brush all your needs off, now get out!”

He stood up and instead of leaving, he walked towards me. I backed to my stove.
“Go,” I yelled pointing over his shoulder.

He stopped but he was close enough to me that he could easily grab me.

He looked at me with a need in his eyes that no longer thrilled me as it sickened me.

“Pam, you look hot tonight. You never dress this nice once for me.”

He grabbed me by the shoulders and pushed himself on me. I fought but he held me tight.

“Don’t worry babe, you always liked this,” he whispered kissing my neck.

In the past, that manipulation would have gotten what he wanted but this time it didn’t work. While his head was down, I twisted my arm fishing for the handle of the frying pan that cooked my sausage and eggs that morning. Right as his lips touched mine and I slammed it into the side of his head. He shouted screaming profanities and stumbled backwards from me. I charged again shouting my own profanities at him and swung at him again. He was good at dodging my assaults and stepped back and to the side. I swung time and time again missing him. There was nothing else to do, so I threw the frying pan at him. It caught his shoulder and he gripped that facing me. A knot was forming on his head where I hit him. He was lucky that was the only knot he had.

I pulled out my chef’s knife from its block rearming myself and pointed it at him.

“Get out of here,” I said between my teeth.

Cockroach picked up my pan and drew his hand back.

“If you throw that at me, you damned dirty bastard, it will be the last thing you will ever hold,” I threatened.

He didn’t, instead he sent the pan into my fish tank.

“No,” I cried and rushed over there as he backed away. I threw a nearby steak knife at him and after that he ran. He threatened something at me but the words didn’t reach my ears. I just let him run off as my 36 gallons of water flooded my apartment.