Clicking Together

She clicked into all parts of him like a puzzle piece of a Rubik's cube, fitting herself in all aspects of his life: he played guitar and sang a song for her, she punched on her phone and ordered an ukulele to make music together. He taught her chords and how to strum, but she grew tired of having to practice every day. She shoved the ukulele to the back of the closet. He liked to watch racing cars and she gifted him a one-day $2,000 Xtreme Xperience racing car course months ahead of his birthday. She watched him speed around and round while she sat on the first row, jumping and shouting as he zoomed by, tears from the wind and rubber flecks streaming on her rosy cheeks, her words drowned by roars of engines. He donated money to Adopt a Gorilla in Tanzania, so she bought a yellow Cockatiel so they could raise it together, but the bird's shrieks gave him a headache, so she took it out of the cage and left it on the balcony rail before a cat got to it. He danced salsa with a school friend once a week. She signed up for the same class and he felt obliged to switch partner with her. She stepped on his feet, kept forgetting the moves. He turned around to steal a glance at his old partner who was twirling and shaking her hips with someone else. He got the silent treatment that night. Then she burst into tears. How had he dared gape at another woman after everything she'd done for him, the gifts, the support she offered for his hobbies, his favorite curry fish dishes she'd cooked for him, the chocolate strawberry cake she'd baked for him. He agreed to not see his friend anymore. He even bought her apology roses. She beamed of joy. They stopped going to salsa for fear they would run into his friend. How awkward that would be! She kept a close watch on his phone while he showered at night. There was no part of him that should be foreign to her. She had turned and twisted herself in all shapes so each part of her became his and his hers and he tumbled along until all the pieces broke apart. He left her a note at the back of a picture of a hand holding a Rubik's Pyramid "I feel claustrophobic. I need some fresh air elsewhere. I hope you find someone you click with better."