My therapist’s advice was to not follow the snake into the woods. If a snake bites you, do you traipse into the trees, looking for its slithering body–turning over rocks only to uncover it’s already bitten you? We cannot convince the snake to take back its bite. You cannot ask the snake why it bit you. Why?, I ask. I want to know what he’ll do, what kind of snake it is, what symptoms the poison will bring. Still,I repeat the mantra in my head when I chop off all my hair, whiten my teeth, and drive to the bookstore alone, blasting Adele from my car stereo. Some days from now, I’ll find the confidence to redownload a dating app and meet Mike or Matt or Mason, and I’ll swear never to go out to dinner with another man that has the flawless complexion of your skin or the sweeping stagger of your walk. We feel better, distancing ourselves from the snake and swearing to everyone who will listen that we have been inoculated. The venom is gone! Still, at night I can feel it pulsing through my veins like butterflies that eat me from the inside out, scraping away at M-names and my vaccination with their tiny wings. Find the snake, they say, and I will shake out my new hair and rat them out to my therapist.
Tonight, I open up my backpack and prepare for my next hike. I am ready to meet a bear, a grand stag, a strong creature that will provide and protect. Yes, I have all of my items–water, compass, whistle, granola bar, what’s this? In the bottom of the bag, there is a shiny white membrane, the texture like bubble wrap, rough and hard—shed skin. Somehow, he slithered in when I hadn’t noticed.
Jacqueline Malloy is writer, blogger, and avid reader. She is currently studying in the MFA Creative Writing program at Lindenwood University. Jacqueline is at work completing her first novel and regularly writes book reviews on her blog, AfterTheLastPage. Connect with her at @after_the_last_page on Instagram.