Victorian Fiancés & The Grooming Process (Saints & Haints, Chapter 3)

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As I've mentioned, I was looking for jobs, without much luck, throughout the month of February. It has always seemed as if I am cursed when it comes to finding tolerable, gainful employment. This is a podunk town in Appalachia, but still. I finally started working at a hardware store, as a cashier, on March 2nd. When I didn't find anything "good," or anything I actually wanted, I thought,
"Okay, something easy, then. Something part-time."
Well, it didn't turn out to be all that easy, or all that part-time; but, that was my thinking when I took the job, at least. To give you an idea of the setting, it was a place similar to a Home Depot. On my third day there, I met a hot guy in the computer room where we did our training and clocked in.

Let me just say that, at that point in my miserable experience as a human on this planet, I had decided to remain single for the rest of my life. My last official relationship had been with my abusive ex, Jorge, and that had been over for two and a half years. When I say abusive, I mean extreme, sadistic abuse. Aside from the typical beatings, he had choked me, nearly to death, on multiple occasions. He had held a gun to my head, dragged me through a field, kidnapped me, and held me hostage. He had made sadistic games out of torturing me, doing things like injuring my arm, and then later slamming a cabinet door shut on it.

I had found the single life to be far less complicated, and that suited me, because I had way too many complications already. After surviving the physical abuse of that relationship with Jorge, I'd gone on to endure the psychological abuse which comes standard with demonic possession. I'd had a rough few years; and I was done with men, whether visible or invisible. Needless to say, the last thing I ever expected was to meet someone who just might be capable of changing my mind --especially not at 6 o'clock in the morning, in a computer room at a hardware store.

It was 6 o'clock in the morning, however; a time of the day which I rank right up there with February, and I was clocking in, half-asleep. A new hire like myself, he was seated a few workspaces away, watching training videos. I noticed that he checked me out when I sat down. I saw him look at my legs, and sort of shutter, as if it were cold; but he smiled at the same time. He was really cute, in an old school kind of way. He was wearing a button down shirt, and best of all, he was clean-shaven... something it seems that money can't buy these days. His features reminded me vaguely of someone I'd known in the past. We said hello to each other. Then, a bit later, I asked him a question about something on the computer, and he got up from his chair, came around behind me, and leaned over me to look at my screen before answering. It was completely unnecessary and obviously a move, and I thought,
"Mmm hmmm..." with a little self-gratified smirk. I didn't know his name yet, nor did I learn it that day; but, for the purposes of this manuscript, he'll be referred to simply as "S."

If you're wondering what S, or any of this, for that matter, has to do with psychic mediumship... well, he actually turned out to be quite relevant, although it will take a bit of storytelling to lay that foundation. In the meantime, bear with me, and allow me to reminisce. This phase of my life was, after all, the very last time that I was anything like a normal human being.

After that morning in the training room, I didn't see S again for a while. Because of our crazy hours, we were never working at the same time. I didn't think too much about him, at least not at that point. Then one day I happened to pass by him as he was walking towards the front door, leaving work for the day. As my nearsighted eyes caught sight of him approaching from a distance, all I could think was,
"Who... is that!!??"
...because all I could make out was his figure, and he looked like an action hero in his tightly fitted dress shirt.
He was looking at me too. He said,
"Hello."
I thought then,
"I'm in love."
I still didn't even know his name.

After that, I started to look for him. I found out his name. I got a little stalkery. We could look at each other's schedules, legitimately, in case we wanted to switch shifts with someone. I began writing down both his schedule and mine, so I'd know when to expect him at work. I noticed, over the next few weeks that I seemed to be working with him a lot more often than before. I noticed also that there were several instances when he appeared at work, but he had not been on the schedule.
"He could be picking up extra shifts,"
I remember thinking to myself. "Okay, no big deal. Doesn't mean anything. Probably."

I found, however, that I just couldn't shake the thought of him; nor could I shake the feeling that he really liked me too, even though we'd hardly spoken. I was always looking for him at work. Whenever I saw him, he'd never say anything more than "Hi," but he'd stare at me intensely. "Wolfishly" would not be a bad way to describe how he looked at me; like he could eat me up. I'd catch him sometimes, staring at me from a distance, sort of stroking his chin, as if contemplating which condiments would go best with this dish.

Despite all this amusement with S, I was finding it difficult to return to work after taking the previous year off, and after everything that had happened that year. I felt bad; as if I was suffering from some undiagnosed general malaise. This was kind of normal, as I have never really felt good; but it was worse than before. It was difficult to adjust my sleep schedule; and even when I did sleep, I still felt worn out. Of course I had plenty of reasons to feel that way. All the increased mental activity involved with being a medium (i.e., hearing constant commentary from demons while trying to act normal, pretend I don't hear it, carry on rational conversations with living people, and actually get anything else accomplished) was sucking the life right out of me.

During those weeks, my early days on that job, and in that flirtation with S, my demons had plenty to say; but to tell you the truth, and much to my surprise, they were almost... friendly... about it. Sometimes they pretended to be jealous, jokingly saying things like,
"You don't even know what he drives, do you? A puke-green Nissan! That's what he drives!"
Or,
"He's got back-ne (back acne)! And he's hairy too!"
Or, my favorite,
"He only takes tub baths, because showers remind him of his time in prison!"

For the most part, however, they were encouraging, and seemed excited for me. They'd watch me get ready for work and compliment my appearance, sort of cheering me on. When I lightened my hair to a golden blonde, they dubbed me "Vendetta Barbie."
If not that, they called me "Yellow Biscuit."
One day, when I dressed in an 80s-inspired ensemble, they commented,
"Well, fuck yeah, Madonna! Let's roll!"

One of them, who speaks like an elderly woman and calls herself "Grandmama Demon," would watch for S at work with me. Once I caught a glimpse of him from a distance, on one of those nights when he wasn't supposed to be there, and just as I was squinting, and thinking,
"Is that...?"
She chimed in excitedly,
"Yes!! Yes, that is S! Yes, it is! And no he was not on the schedule! Picking up extra shifts, I see... mmm hmmm. Boy, he's sure got eyes for you, that's the truth!"

Once, when I was feeling down and out, thinking that he'd never want me because... well, because I'm basically a person that most people would consider crazy, and because I live in an old, falling-down house with a bunch of animals, she said to me,
"Martha PopTart, you are not that hard of a sell. Any man with half a heart would love this family... and he's got more than half a heart."
(Martha PopTart is another of their numerous nicknames for me.) Of course, at times, various other demons would come along and tell me that I'm ugly and worthless and entirely correct in thinking that no one would ever want me.

They played this game for a while, where they pretended to have a trainee-demon. He was apparently new on the job... ha ha. Sometimes there would actually be two of them, and other times there would be only one doing both voices; but either way, every day when I got off work, one would be explaining things about me to the other one, sort of narrating my life. The instructor demon would be saying things like,
"She always does that..."
Or,
"She is doing that because..."
Whenever I'd acknowledge this banter, the instructor-demon would confirm,
"Yeah, we got a new demon here. Training him up. So what?"

Once I asked them, jokingly,
"Why do you have to tell that new demon everything about me? Is he stupid? Does he not have telepathy?"
The instructor demon then informed me,
"Martha PopTart, you had better not get smart with this new demon... 'cause he's awful stupid, and he ain't gonna understand it." 
There was no "new" demon, though. Perhaps there was one that was new to me, but I saw this act of theirs for the comedy performance that it was. I was a little suspicious about why they were being so nice, but I reasoned that it was because I was working a real job again, and hadn't had much time to write.

I had come to understand that some of my demons had been with me for over a year at that point. They'd watched absolutely everything I'd done; and had been with me constantly, commenting on everything that had happened to me. They were still a bit bipolar, and still attacked me on occasion, as they had when I was finishing the book. Overall, though, they'd transformed; becoming a lot nicer during that time. They now said that they loved me. I'd started to accept that they might actually love me because they knew everything about me. They knew my struggles. They knew the truth behind everything about me that might've looked like a fault to anyone else. I rationalized that simply knowing all those intimate details about someone else might eventually cause love to grow.

They kept telling me that S would love me too, if he ever got a chance to see what a beautiful person I really am. Still, one night, while we were watching "Charles in Charge," one of my demons informed me,
"We're really only interested in the porn show you two beauties will produce for us."
I felt that they were happy with the direction my life was taking, and I knew that was probably not a good thing, given that they are demons, regardless of whether or not they love me.
But, I thought,
"Oh, well, I guess..."
There was nothing I could do about it.