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It wasn’t mere jealousy. It was pathological mental unsoundness. That’s what I believe. And my partner Tom was unfortunately too dim, bless him, to see it. He had looked up to this man for quite a while now. His intelligence, quick wit and humour had him drunk. Their shared interests were a bonding point. He didn’t recognise that there was a lot more going on than he could see.
Lisa was something of a breath of fresh air when we first knew her and a welcome introduction for those of us that knew Larry during his low times. Before her, he’d camouflage his true condition on social media, only showing us small parts of his true self and vulnerabilities, like a first time stripper on stage.
I knew that his skin was the colour of sulphur and he lay in bed on days when his wife couldn’t feed him for whatever reasons, eating cornflakes because a sparrow chested man pecking at crumbs was what he had become. I knew his marriage was decaying and past all redemption, because of the man he was. He talked a big game. Talking was his game. And when he met Lisa, that game became bigger still. So large in fact, it could not be maintained. Like a deflated balloon, in the hands of a clown, the pair withdrew, tail between their legs from the public eye. An overplayed hand of cringeworthy proportions. A millstone of plastic and dime store glitter.
Having angered so many people with their Meghan Markle type bluster and in your face self aggrandizement, they coccooned themselves away, for almost a year, hoping that people would simply forget their braggart behaviour and bullying.
I didn’t. Neither did many others.
Like most people, Tom and I talked about them a little, when they first fucked off. Piecing together the different aspects of their demise out of curiosity. Then, they spiralled away from our thoughts and focus and we forgot eventually that the two of them even existed.
Until three weeks ago.
‘Going out for drinks tonight babe. But will be home around 10:30.’
I frowned.
‘Oh?’
Long pause.
‘Larry got in touch from Bluesky and we got to chatting. It’s just a few drinks.’
I was shocked. His memory was clearly shorter than I knew.
‘You do remember he is a weirdo right and that he was pretty nasty to me and others towards the end? I had to block both him and his raging narc girlfriend Lisa.’
‘Yes, I know. He’s been through a lot. No excuse I know but he has. He’s doing better now.’
‘You do remember that she was doing weird copy cat stuff too? Publishing their own BDSM journey and what not, just like we did? It all felt very odd, considering we had our own stuff already published.’
‘Hm. I forgot about that. I’m meeting him anyway, not her. It will be fine.’
‘Ok. Well just be careful. I’ll wait up.’
‘You don’t have to.’
‘I’m going to.’
‘Ok. See you tonight. Xxx’
I never saw Tom again. I did receive messages though.
Tom’s not coming home.
Larry? Is that you? Tell Tom to call me. I need to know he’s ok.
Not Larry.
Then who? This isn’t funny.
Obviously I called that number and Tom many times. Eventually the police did too, but we got nowhere.
And I’m actually sobbing right now because another message came through just.
Tom had to know that I’m the best.
What the fuck?
Where is he?
He’s in my bed.
Oh Christ!
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