Storymania - An Absurdity by Johan Keylay

An Absurdity
Johan Keylay

He had to look up at her several times, just to make sure she was serious. She was.
     “You can’t be serious,” Bobby said trying to smile. She wasn’t smiling.
     “You told me you would give me anything I asked for,” Sarah said. She crossed her arms and looked at Bobby, waiting for an answer.
     “I meant that I would buy you anything you wanted. I have the money to do that. I was promising you financial security—-maybe even to spoil you a bit--but what you’re asking for—-I just. . . I just can’t do that.”
     “So you lied to me?” Sarah asked. She started tapping her foot on the ground impatiently.
     “No! I didn’t lie to you. Look around, we’ve got a nice house, with all the comforts you could possibly want. A huge bank account, several cars. I told you when we moved in together that if you wanted a new car every year, that I would buy one for you. I give you a thousand dollar a week allowance for crying out loud!”
     “I don’t want a car, and I don’t want money. I want what I asked for.”
     “This is crazy. I’m not going to do this for you, so you can just forget it. I mean, it’s crazy for you even to ask. Why in the world would ask me to do that for anyway?”
     “I’m not asking, I’m telling.”
     “Well, I’m sorry. You can’t have it. Anything that I can buy, it’s yours, but this is going too far.” Bobby knew she had a bit of a sadistic streak to her, but this was insane. Why in the world would she ask him for this?
     “If you don’t give me it, I’m going to leave you. You promised to give me anything I asked for, and I’m not going to stay with someone who doesn’t follow through on their promises.” Sarah abruptly turned around and walked off into the other room. Bobby followed.
     “Now come on! This is ridiculous—-no, this is insane. Please tell me you’re kidding,” Bobby said as he looked deeply into her eyes. Usually Sarah was as easy to read as a book. She’d never make a career out of playing poker; whatever she thought was always printed clearly on her face. But Bobby saw no sign that she was joking. What he saw was honesty. Cold, sadistic honesty. “No. I’m not going to do it. I’m sorry. I love you, but this is too much to ask—-it’s crazy! I don’t want you to leave me, but I’m not going to do it.”
     “Suit yourself,” Sarah said, and walked upstairs.
     Bobby knew that this was just some sort of sick game she was playing. She was constantly testing her limits with him. Sometimes it could be extremely irritating, but it was worth putting up with for her. He had gone past being head-over-heels in love with her, and proceeded directly to a dangerous obsession with her.
She’ll be pissed off tonight, and play her little pouting and punishing game for a while, but by tomorrow morning she’ll have forgotten all about this, he thought. At least, that was the way it had always worked in the past when she didn’t get her way.
     Instead of following her upstairs into the bedroom, Bobby went to the guest room. It was better not to go upstairs right away to try and work things out with her. He knew from experience, that it would only make matters worse.

Bobby slipped under the sheets on the guest room bed. Yeah, he thought, things would be better in the morning.

The next morning, Bobby was up by eight o’clock. He’d spent the past fifteen years getting up at five a.m. every morning and heading out to the office by five-thirty. He’d worked an exhausting twelve hours a day, seven days a week. He was now a very wealthy man, and was able to choose how he spent his days, which he would start off by sleeping in until eight.
     After he started the coffee, he grabbed the newspaper from the front porch, and sat at the kitchen table to read. Over the top of his newspaper he saw Sarah come in the kitchen—-she was still upset.
     “Have you changed your mind?” Sarah asked.
     “Have you?”
     “Come on Bobby! You have nine more!”
     “Come sit down with me for a minute, we need to talk.”
     “Yes we do,” Sarah said, sitting down across the table from Bobby.
     “I want to know what’s gotten into you. Why in the world would you even want my finger?”
     “I have my reasons,” Sarah said, looking down at the table, avoiding eye contact.
     “I’d like to know what those reasons are. Did you actually expect me to say ‘Yeah, sure! I’ll go downstairs right now and cut it off!’? What’s the matter with you?”
     “Nothing,” she said defiantly. “What’s the matter with you? You told me I could have anything I wanted! What I want, is for you to cut your finger off and give it to me. It’s not like I’m asking for an arm or a leg. You can function perfectly fine minus one finger. It doesn’t even have to be a big one; you could give me the little one if you want.”
     “Do you hear yourself? Stop and think about this for a moment. Think about what you’re asking. Do you love me?”
     Sarah was momentarily startled by the question. “Of course I love you.”
     “Well, if you love me, then you wouldn’t ask me to cut my finger off. People who love each other don’t ask their partner to cut off body parts!”
     “Remember when you first asked me to move in here?”
     “Yes,” Bobby said, proceeding cautiously.
     “Do you remember how you told me your lawyer drew up a contract for me to sign, that would protect your home and assets?”
     Bobby paused for a minute before he answered. The contract meant almost nothing; it was a smoke-screen that he had his lawyer draw up because he was a paranoid about her moving in and taking his money. Yes, he had asked her to move in, but he still had trouble, even after they had been dating for four months, believing that someone as beautiful and intelligent as Sarah would agree to go out with him, much less move in with him. He thought that she was after his money, so he had his lawyer draw up the agreement, that basically said she would give up any claim she might have in the future regarding his assets. Even though it wouldn’t hold up in court, he wanted to see if she would sign it. It was a test, and she passed it with flying colors.
     “Yes, I remember,” Bobby said, unsure of the direction this conversation was taking.
     “Well, I signed it didn’t I? I’ve always known that you were testing me with that agreement.”
     “And yes, you passed. So what’s your point?”
     “My point is, think of what I’m asking you, as a test.”
     “A test?” Bobby said incredulously.
     “Yeah, something along the lines of: If you really love me, you’ll do it. Like your test with the agreement.”
     “But I tore up the agreement right after you signed it! Besides, I asked you to sign something, not cut off a body part!” Bobby cried.
     “True, but I’m going to need a little bit more of a commitment from you than just signing a piece of paper.”
     Bobby stared at her wide-eyed. He was beginning to actually believe that she might leave him if he didn’t do this.
     “So what’s your answer?” Sarah asked.
     “I love you Sarah, but I can’t do this. I’m sorry.”
     “Fine then,” she yelled, and stood up, pushing her chair in violently, knocking it over. “I’m glad that I at least found out that you don’t really love me before I wasted anymore time living here with you. I’ll be gone by ten.”
     “No, Sarah, wait.” Bobby stood up and followed her to their upstairs bedroom. “Please, talk to me. Don’t leave me.”
     “Unless you give me what I asked for, I have nothing more to say to you.”
     “But--” Bobby said, but Sarah slammed the door in his face cutting him off, and leaving him out in the hallway.

Bobby went back downstairs to the kitchen ten minutes later. He stood outside their bedroom door, begging with her to come back out and talk about this, but she ignored him. Bobby got a cup of coffee and sat down at the kitchen table to think. How could she ask him to injure himself like that? Didn’t she care about how much it would hurt, or the fact that she was asking him to deform himself?
Cutting off my little finger would hurt less than if she were to leave me, he thought. He finished his cup of coffee and prayed that when Sarah came back downstairs that she’d have come to her senses.
     Fifteen minutes later, Bobby was working on his second cup of coffee when Sarah appeared in the kitchen doorway. She was carrying two suitcases, and had a coat draped over her arm. “Have you changed your mind?” she asked.
     “I—-I can’t do it. Please don’t leave me,” Bobby cried.
     “Then that’s that,” Sarah said, picking her suitcases back up. “Please save us both the embarrassment of you running after me and begging me to stay. I’ve made up my mind. I’m leaving, and there’s only one thing you can do to stop me—-and you know what that is.” She turned and walked away to the front door.

It’s only my little finger. I can bandage it up, and it’ll probably stop hurting after a few minutes. I can’t imagine what I even need that finger for anyway. . .

     Bobby stood up, but then sat right back down. He was horrified. Was he actually considering doing this?

It’s just a little finger. Cut off the one on my left hand, I don’t even use it. In fact, after a little while, I probably won’t even notice that it’s gone. Besides, is life really even worth living without Sarah? I’ll never find someone like her again. Like she said, she’s not asking for an arm or a leg. . .

     Bobby stood back up, and this time he didn’t sit back down. He looked out the kitchen window and saw Sarah open her car door and step in. He ran through the kitchen and out the front door just as Sarah was started her car. “Wait!” he yelled to her. She didn’t drive away--but she didn’t turn the engine off. Bobby ran over to her and stood beside her car. “If it’s that important to
you--”
        Just a little pain, and then it will be over. I don’t even use that finger—-it’s only my left hand.
“—-I’ll do it,” he said. Sarah turned off the car, and looked up at him and smiled, her eyes bright.
     “You mean it? You’ll really do it?”
     “Yes. If it means you’ll stay.”
     “Of course, yes, yes, if you do it I’ll stay,” she said, getting out of the car.
     “Come on inside then,” Bobby said, and grabbed her bags, carrying them inside.

A few minutes later, they were both back in the kitchen, sitting at the table. Bobby had a grim and determined look on his face, and Sarah looked like she’d just won the lottery, she was practically giddy.
     “Okay, how do you want to do this?” Bobby asked.
     “I’m already prepared,” Sarah said, pulling a roll of gauze from a kitchen drawer along with spring-loaded pruning shears. She set the gauze down in front of her on the table, and handed the pruning shears over to Bobby.
     Bobby swallowed as he picked up the shears. His face was pale, his hands were shaking, but he was determined to do this for her. “It has to be this way?” he asked.
     “Yes,” Sarah said, apologetically. “Prove to me how much you love me.”
     Laying his hand down on the table, palm down, Bobby lifted his little finger slightly. Using his right hand, he opened the shears, moved them close, and slid his finger in between the blades of the sheers. He breathed heavily for a moment, and then closed his eyes. Sarah was riveted by the sight of his finger in between the blades. Holding his breath, Bobby squeezed the handles of the pruning shears together hard and fast, neatly severing his little finger.
     For a second, he felt nothing. He kept his eyes closed and wondered if he had done it or not. Then the pain hit. He opened his eyes and screamed. Blood was spurting from where his finger used to be, in rhythm with his pulse. The pain was unbelievable. He looked down and saw his finger lying on the table. It looked small, and unreal to him. His nerves were screaming out, insisting that his finger was still there. He could still feel it as if it were attached; it was throbbing and burning. He looked over to Sarah, and she was mesmerized by the sight. Gritting his teeth, he said: “The gauze. . . I’m going to bleed to death. . .help me.” Sarah snapped out of her daze, and walked around the table to Bobby, and wrapped the gauze around his hand, slowing the flow of blood.
     “I’m going to need more bandages,” Sarah said. “I’ll be right back.” She returned a moment later and wrapped several layers around his hand, finally stopping the flow of blood. Bobby was still in a great deal of pain—-his little finger still insisted it was there. Sarah walked over to a drawer, and pulled out two small plastic bags. One bag she set down on the table, and the other bag she put the severed finger in, and then sat back down.
     “Are you happy now?” Bobby asked.
     “Yes,” Sarah said, still in shock. “I can’t believe you actually went through with it.”
     “Now will you stay?”
     “Yes, I’ll stay.”
      Bobby’s hand jerked involuntarily as a wave of pain washed over it. “Now does this prove to you that I really do love you?” he asked.
     “Yes. Well—-I’m almost convinced,” she said.
     Bobby looked up. “Almost?” he asked quietly.
     “Almost,” Sarah agreed. She looked over to the bloody shears lying on the table near Bobby. “If you really want to convince me, I’m going to need another finger. The little one from your other hand will do.”