A Dialogue
The Nightmare Believer and Her Cheater
In a quiet, secluded gray suburban house on top of a hill overlooking the town
live a man and a woman who have been married for ten years. It’s early morning when
the woman walks into the kitchen as she ties her purple bathrobe. Her husband sits at
the counter, reading the newspaper comic strips, drinking black coffee. He looks up at
her as his shoulders tense. He tries to hide his caution.
“Good morning, Love”, he says.
“Good morning”, she replies. “How was your sleep?”
“Pretty good and yours?”
“It was absolutely fantastic.” The woman’s dream was indeed not fantastic.
“What’s wrong now?” the husband asks as he puts down his newspaper.
“Nothing”, the woman replies as she walks towards the coffee maker.
“Okay then.” The man picks up his coffee mug to take a drink. A few seconds pass
by, and the woman is surprised., Why didn’t he continue asking her what was wrong?
She pours some coffee into her Who You Gonna Call” mug and turns to her husband as
she takes a sip.
Right before she goes back for another sip she says, “So how was that secretary
yesterday?”
“My god, here we go again,” her husband says with a sigh as he puts his mug
down.
“You’re damn right here we go again. Rise and shine, motherfucker.” She takes
another sip and raises her cup to the air, almost saluting him. The man puts his
newspaper down as well as his glasses.
“Why can’t we ever just have a peaceful meal? Huh? You always have to RUIN IT
by bringing up some shit that isn’t even true.”
She sets down her mug on the kitchen counter. “That isn’t even true?!” she has
her hands on her hip now. “Okay if it isn’t even true then why do I keep having dreams
of you cheating on me with that slut?”
“Okay first of all her name is Eileen”.
This was a mistake. “Her name is Eileen,” she says mocking her husband’s
voice.“Obviously, she means something to you because she is the first person you
thought of.”
“Oh, stop it with the bullshit already.” The husband starts waving his hands
around. “DAMN I can’t even drink my coffee and read the newspaper in GODDAMN
PEACE.” The man stops flailing his arms around.
“And you’re not even gonna deny it?!”
“How am I supposed to reassure you about something that happened in your
Goddamn dream? I’m not some fortune teller that can interpret your dreams alright”.
“Wow, I can’t believe my husband is cheating on me.” She looks up at the ceiling
toward God. “What did I do to deserve this?”
The man stands up from the counter and starts walking away from her, shaking
his head in frustration. The woman throws a plate at him, nearly hitting his head and
shattering to the ground. He turns back.
“WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU DOING?”
“How ‘bout you try and interpret that, huh?” she says, lightly jumping around
like a boxer; she looks proud of herself. “You lousy motherfucker”.
The man turns around and stares at her. He starts walking towards her, his hands
shaking. She starts walking backward away from him, making sure not to lose eye
contact. She holds her breath as he’s coming toward her.
“Oh I’m gonna do more than that, I’m gonna show you exactly what I’m
thinking.” He takes a step forward as the woman starts running away from him, he
follows her all over the house.
“COME BACK YOU LITTLE BITCH,” he yells as he almost trips over his flannel
slippers.
“STAY AWAY FROM ME YOU PSYCHO,” The man chases the woman all over
their American dream house. Pillows, vases, and picture frames fly across the living
room as they each try to hit each other. Both the woman and the man are panting from
anger and exhaustion, a bang stops them in their tracks. It’s coming from upstairs. The
woman begins to whisper:
“What the fuck was that?”
“How am I supposed to know?” The man answers her idiotic question.
“Well, go check and see what it is.”
“What?”
“What?” The wife says mocking her husband yet again. “Don’t be stupid and go
check.”
The couple is still in the living room, waiting for another loud bang to come from
upstairs. The man is unsure if he should go up and look or continue chasing his wife, his
thoughts are interrupted when his wife pulls at his arm. The woman glares at her
husband.
“What are you waiting for? Go up!” Another bang comes from upstairs.
“Okay okay damn, just… give me a second.” The man tries to mentally prepare
himself, almost ready to go up, his thoughts are interrupted again.
“Stop being a bitch and go up already,” the woman steps closer to him,
whispering in his ear.
“Why don’t you go up since you wanna see what it is so badly.”
“Don’t act smart now.” The man and the woman tiptoe from their living room
past the kitchen to the foot of the stairs, careful not to trip over all of their Halloween
decorations that were thrown and ended up on the floor. They stop at the end of the
stairs. Suddenly the couple hears creaking coming from the second floor. A piercing
rush of cold air goes up their backs to their ears.
“Shouldn’t you get a bat or something?” The woman asks too scared to look away
from the stairs.
“You’re right.” The man does not get a bat or even a knife instead he gets a:
“A fucking sandal? And what the fuck are you going to do with Birkenstocks?”
The wife takes in a deep breath to calm herself. It doesn’t work. “You were about to
murder me with a vase and you chose Birkenstocks?”
“Oh stop exaggerating.” The man grabs a fireplace poker and the couple slowly
ascends up to the second floor. Pictures of the couple, family barbecues, weddings, and
an empty picture frame to the side of the stairs are all crooked and broken. The empty
picture frame seems to have a wet handprint on it. The woman notices this and moves a
little closer to her husband, but not too much. They make it to the top of the stairs. The
floor is covered in wet footprints leading to the room right next to their bedroom. The
couple looks at each other.
“What should we would do?” The wife asks her husband still looking at the small
footprints in front of her.
“Call the police.”
“Good idea.” The couple quietly go down the stairs, still clinging to each other,
still careful not to step on the things on the floor. The couple make it to the kitchen. The
man unhooks the phone on the wall. The woman starts to breathe down her husband’s
neck.
“Hurry up and call the police.” She crosses her arms and hesitates to bite her
nails.
“Okay okay, I’m trying.” The husband tries to reach the buttons, this was too slow
for his wife.
“Try faster.” She clenches her teeth this time no longer hesitating to bite her
nails.
“I mean it’s not that easy when someone is breathing down your neck,” The man
says as he whips his head to glare at her. “So stop rushing me.”
“Get out of the way and let me do it.” The woman gets the phone and pushes the
911 buttons on their yellow home phone. But as she raises the phone to her ear the
power inside the house goes out.
“Well, fuck.”