Story #208 - Jealous Heart

Jealous Heart

Jealously slithered down his throat, settling just above his stomach in a yellow-hot ball of rage. He was sure if she could manage it, white-hot would have been her first choice, but these things didn't come cheap. Sem had been stupid enough to open the package when it arrived at his work, stupid enough not to notice that the handwriting on the outside was distinct and familiar. She knew enough of his friends to fake an address stamp from one, and he'd greedily swallowed the new “taste sensation” that Arlie the confectioner – a friend since basic school – had supposedly sent him.

Now, he was standing over one of the sinks in the men's washroom, wondering if it was better to force himself to throw up or just live with the pain. Jealously-cubes didn't come cheap, so there was some satisfaction to be found in the idea of sticking he finger down his throat and bringing back up what she'd wrapped in overcooked puff-pastry and spitting it out on the floor. He might even send it back to her, covered in his own bile, but that would attract the attention of the Watchers, and even his rage couldn't stand up to their cold sense of societal duty.

The other choice was just to leave it down there and endure. Sem hated throwing up – something he'd told Eliza several times over the course of their six-year long relationship, one year apart, and brief, four-month reconciliation. She knew almost all of his secrets, but he'd always felt like she was keeping things from him. It was part of the reason they'd split, than and the fact that she was crazier than a Streeter on hoop. He should have known something like this was coming, but he hadn't heard a thing from her for the last three weeks, and had hoped that she had grown up and moved on.

Thoughts of her made him shake with a need to have her back, and thoughts of her with other men swirled in his head. The cube she'd purchased might not have been the highest quality, but it was doing the job. As the minutes went by and the drug-laden device took hold, his mind was filled with images of her clothing, naked, and in every imaginable scenario, but always with another man – or woman – and always leaving him broken-hearted. He slammed a fist forward, forcing it to miss the mirror and strike the tile to the side. The light green ceramic cracked and he felt a sharp pain in his hand, but better a few dusty shards to brush off than a jagged length of glass.

In three to four days, the effects of the cube would wear off, and he'd once again have no interest in his former love; he just had to stay away from her until then. No doubt she'd love to see him come crawling back, even if it was to sate the awful feelings she'd purchased for him, and no doubt she'd kick him to the curb with glee. Where the hell had it gone so wrong?

Sem suffered through the rest of his day, alternatively fueling his anger at her and clenching his fists in a jealous rage. An hour before he was due to leave he found himself unable to perform even the most mundane of data entry tasks thanks to hands that were bent into claws, aching and red. Barry, his boss, was good enough to let him head home early – they'd talked on a number of occasions about the women in their lives over drinks, and Barry had heard an earful about Eliza.

He could feel the nugget in his throat pulsing as he boarded the Jo-train, sending out wave after wave of desire and fear to his stomach. It was as though he were fifteen again, desperate for the girl that sat in the corner but so deathly afraid to speak for fear of rejection. He'd been rejected, as a matter of fact, and by Eliza's older sister. Ephie was only a grade ahead of Eliza, and it had been the younger one he'd always wanted to talk to, but didn't have the nerve. Ephie had shut him down hard, however, and he'd been forced to find the courage to speak to Eliza himself. It had taken three years just to convince her to go on a single date, and two more that they should be together. He'd done all the leg work in the early days, convincing her that he was the right man. As it turned out, he'd overestimated their compatibility.

A pretty girl smiled at him from across the train. They'd been flirting for weeks, but today he didn't have time for her and looked away sharply. He could see her face fall – another opportunity missed. The rest of his ride home was miserable, and by the time he arrived at his front door he was considering throwing up again. By this time, the cube was firmly attached, which meant he'd really have to heave hard if he wanted a chance at getting it back up.

So focused on the cube, Sem didn't notice that his door was already unlocked, and he was halfway to the kitchen before he saw her, standing in the middle of the living room. He'd asked for all of her keys back, but she'd never been one to do what she was told.

“Hello, Sem,” she purred, and he forced himself to look at the ground. She was dressed in one of his favorite intimate outfits, one that was all curving breasts and supple hips. There was something in her hands, but he had no intention of looking at her to find out what.

“Get out,” he grated in return, “this isn't your house anymore.”

“Aww, honey,” she moved closer to him as she spoke, “I think you'll change your mind soon enough.”

The cube in his throat pulsed, and he could feel a warm sensation spread through his body. Desire. She'd spent more than he realized – the object he should have expelled was an omni-cube, available only to citizens of the highest rank.

Pieces fell into place; Eliza was an Operative, and jilted one.

He was in serious trouble.

- D