Arin - Lucy
He loved her very much. He loved her enough to want to keep her forever.
So that’s exactly what he tried to do.
Arin and Lucy had gotten married straight out of high school, dizzy with young love. Their only problem was the lack of knowledge between them; they’d known each other for barely three months. But what kind of barrier was that against true love?
“True love” held a very different meaning for Lucy than it did for Arin. To her, it meant looking past flaws, overcoming obstacles, and growing old with a lover. To Arin, it meant murder.
In his sense of the word, Arin had been “in love” with five different things throughout his life, but none had lasted so long as Lucy. With her, he wanted to draw things out, and savor the pleasure of the end. The rest had been quick.
The first had been his mother, Lynne. Arin was eight years old and very clingy, but it had always been that way. He loved his mother, and he always wanted to be able to reach out his hand and feel that she was there. Arin would follow her about the apartment, sneak after her when he walked to work, and even sit against the bathroom door when she took a shower. He behaved like dog, a second shadow.
So she bought him one. It was a little white dog with a short tail and a happy bark. It made Arin think that she was trying to replace him like he had replaced his father. When he was born, his father left; now that this dog had forced its way into the family, it was someone else’s turn to leave. It wouldn’t be him.
It would be his mother.