Nica's Rotten Life Part 3

Warning: The following contains: strong language, verbal abuse, and references to violence. Reader discretion is advised.

Author's Note: Tinker is the name of the character Tony Moran played in one episode of "The Waltons" (season 7, episode 16, 1979). That character is a jerk, too. Not as bad as this Tinker but close enough.

Disclaimer: The following is a work of fan fiction. It is intended for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to actual persons living or deceased is purely coincidental.

~o~

Tinker returned home for dinner.

“Don’t bother,” he told me when I offered him a plate. “I wouldn’t eat that crap if you paid me.”

I remembered how excited Halloween Mask had gotten about a lasagna dinner. I wished I could get a real-life reaction like theirs.

Tinker disappeared into the bedroom, and when he came out several minutes later, he had showered and changed clothes. He still carried the odor of motor oil with him, but I had gotten used to it after all these years of dating a mechanic.

He ignored me as he headed to the kitchen and opened the fridge.

“Did you drink my beer?” he asked, sounding annoyed as usual.

“No.” I set down my fork. I couldn’t eat with him in the room on the prowl for a fight.

“Fuck it.” He shut the fridge. He passed by the counter, glaring at the covered casserole dish. “How can you eat that shit? It stinks.”

“I...”

“Typical dumb bitch stinking up the apartment.”

I bowed my head. Tears welled in my eyes. My hands curled into fists where they lay on my lap.

“I’m going out. Don’t wait up for me.” He grabbed his leather jacket off the coat rack and slipped it on. There was a moment of silence he shattered with one final insult. “You keep eating that shit and you’ll need a bigger wheelchair to hold your fat ass.”

I nodded because it was what he expected me to do—take the abuse because I deserved it.

He uttered a mocking laugh then headed out the door.

“Don't come back,” I whispered, once I could no longer hear his footsteps in the hallway. I picked up my napkin and wiped my eyes.

As for my lasagna dinner, I scrapped what was left on my plate into the trash.

I didn’t feel up to washing dishes, so I returned to the table and opened my laptop.

Once the computer had booted up, I checked my e-mail.

Twenty new messages—half from Freddy, the other half from MyStory.

I opened the MyStory messages first.

Nica-Chu,

I understand. I’m sorry if I overstepped my boundaries. Forgive me?

Halloween Mask

I smiled and clicked open a new tab on my Internet browser. Once I had logged on to MyStory, I opened their private messenger and composed a reply.

Halloween Mask,

I wasn’t mad at you. LOL

Nica-Chu

I sent it and returned to my inbox. As I read through the reviews I had received for chapter eleven of “I Didn’t Order This Doll”, a new message popped up in my inbox. Halloween Mask had just replied to my private message on MyStory.

Nica-Chu,

I’m so relieved!

Have you read my review for chapter eleven of “I Didn’t Order This Doll” yet?

Halloween Mask

I had left the tab open in the browser so I clicked on it and returned to MyStory. I typed my reply.

Halloween Mask,

I didn’t realize you were online. LOL

I just read your review. I can’t say what will happen to Nica yet. It’s a surprise.

Nica-Chu

I sent the message and returned to my inbox. I finished reading the review emails and deleted them before tackling Freddy’s messages.

He had sent me a ton of pictures he had taken while walking around Ohio.

He didn’t appear in any of them except for a shadow stretched out on the sidewalk.

All the pictures were full of sunlight, trees, and places I would love to visit—a bookstore, movie theater, a used record store, and an antique dealer.

PLEASE let me come get you, Nica! Freddy begged in his emails. I need someone to share all this boring with. LOL

It doesn’t look boring at all, I replied. I would love to go to all those places with you.

I sent the e-mail and moved all of Freddy’s e-mails to a locked folder so HE wouldn’t see them. I didn’t want to delete all the pictures Freddy took.

Inbox cleaned up at last I noticed I had a new message from MyStory.

Nica-Chu,

It’s my online time. I’ll probably be online all night. Insomniac, remember?

And you are one evil writer. My favorite evil writer, though.

Halloween Mask

I made up my mind.

I returned to MyStory and private messaged Halloween Mask.

Halloween Mask,

My e-mail address is: nicachu11988@hrrrmail.com.

Nica-Chu

I closed the MyStory tab and waited.

A message appeared in my inbox five minutes later.

The message was from halloweenmaskmm@hrrrmail.com.

Hi, Nica-Chu!

Are you sure this is okay? Won’t your boyfriend get mad?

Halloween Mask

I clicked on Reply and typed.

Hey, Halloween Mask! LOL

It’s fine. He’s not home tonight.

And you can call me Nica. It’s my name. LOL

I clicked Send and waited.

Halloween Mask responded minutes later.

Okay. Nica. I like it. It’s a pretty name.

I replied just as quickly.

Nica is short for Monica. I prefer Nica, though. Never call me Monica.

What’s your name?

I hesitated to include the question, but I couldn’t keep calling them Halloween Mask.

I sent the message and waited for a response.

Halloween Mask took longer to respond this time. Five minutes elapsed before a reply appeared in my inbox.

Michael.

No more.

I replied.

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked. I like your name, though, Michael.

Michael (a.k.a. Halloween Mask) replied faster this time.

It’s okay. My parents were Bible freaks.

My sisters have Biblical names, too.

I sighed with relief. I hadn’t overstepped my boundaries yet.

I replied.

You have siblings?

Michael: Mm. Two sisters. The older one is dead. She died when I was six.

Me: Oh. I’m sorry.

Michael: It’s okay. (Here he changed the subject.) What time is it where you are, Nica? It’s almost eight o’clock here. You don’t have to stay up all night and keep me company.

Me: It’s almost nine p.m. here. You live in America, too, then?

Michael: Mm. Midwest.

Me: I have a friend who lives in the Midwest, too. He sent me a bunch of pics today of Ohio. It was pretty. I wish I could go see him.

Michael: Your boyfriend won’t let you go.

Me: No, he won’t. (I paused then resumed typing.) It’s okay, though. Travelling is something of a pain. I’m confined to a wheelchair, and money is tight.

Michael: I’m not allowed to travel out of state. Doctor’s orders.

Me: Oh? Are you okay? Other than your insomnia.

Michael: I’m fine. I had a mental health crisis a few years ago. I’m still in my psychiatrist’s care for another year then I’ll be free.

Me: Oh. Sorry. I’m really overstepping my boundaries.

Michael: No, it’s okay. You would have found out anyway. Look up “Michael Myers Illinois” in a search engine. If you still want to keep talking to me, I’m here.

I yawned.

Me: I’ll look it up tomorrow. I have to go, Michael. I still have dishes to wash, and I just yawned. LOL

(I yawned because I’m getting sleepy, not because you’re boring me. I’ve enjoyed talking to you.)

Michael: Good-night, Nica.

I smiled and sent one more message before I shut down the computer.

Me: Good-night, Michael.