(no subject)
As I lie here in bed, blankets crumpled on the floor, in total silence I begin to think about the past. All those smiles, all those fights, all those “I love you’s“ murmured into each others ears, it all returns with terrifying clarity. Tears well deserved flow down my cheeks unheeded. I miss you. Everything I see is you, in a way. I never gave as much as I should have, and now, you’re gone. Probably forever.
But you are not forgotten. No, you are still in my heart, and you will forevermore be on my mind. I wonder though; where are you now? Who are you with? Are you happy? Are you well? I hope so.
I look at the glowing red numbers on the alarm clock on my nightstand, almost hidden by the overflowing ashtray and empty beer and liquor bottles, and it tells me that its 4:30 in the morning. Only an hour to go before I have to get up for work.
I sit up and start a search for a cigarette. I finally find one: a single and crooked Newport resting in a crumpled box near the beat up couch next to our…..my….bed. I get up and walk out of my bedroom into the hall, looking intently at the pictures of us hung upon the otherwise bleak white wall. Again, the tears flow, so salty and sweet. I move on into the living room on a quest for a lighter. I look under the couch; nothing but garbage. I look on the coffee table, which is full of more empty bottles and cans that reek of cigarette butts and stale alcohol. No lighter there, either.
I give up and move into the kitchen, finally giving up and deciding to just light it off of the stove. Dirty dishes and even more empty beer bottles conceal the whole counter.
I’m a drunk. I didn’t used to be, not until that night two months ago. The night you walked out of my life. You told me that you still love me, but that you weren’t in love with me anymore. I still see the look in your eyes as you slowly closed the door between us. For a whole long, agonizing month, I waited for you to call, waited for the phone to ring and hear your voice, your warm and comforting voice to answer my frantic hello. A whole month of jumping to the phone every time it rang. A whole month of hoping and praying. You didn’t call even once.
I tried calling you every night, begging you to reconsider, but you never did. You always rushed me off the phone, the rare times that you didn’t let your voicemail just answer for you. And you would always rush me off the phone. You always had something to do. It didn’t used to be that way at all. We used to talk for hours upon hours every night. We used to call each other long distance just to utter those magical little words: “I love you”.
The cigarette between my fingers begins to burn itself out. I toss the still smoldering butt onto the floor and watch its amber glow sputter into nonexistence with mild amusement. I check the clock on the grease spattered wall above the stove and see that its ten after five. I begin to move into the living room to turn the television on when the phone screams at me from the darkness.
I pick up the receiver on the third ring. I wonder to myself who it could be this early in the day. Before I say anything, I look out the kitchen window to see an orange and red glow in the distance.
“Hello?” I manage to croak out of my parched throat.
“Hello.” It’s you!
I’m stricken dumb for a moment, as I try to think of what to say. There has been so much that I’ve wanted to tell you, but now that I have the chance, my mind goes blank.
“Hey! What’s going on?” I squeak.
You don’t answer for almost a full minute. When you finally speak, you tell me that you were offered a good job, your dream job, and you’ve accepted it. I start to congratulate you, and you cut me off by going on to say that the job is based out of Texas, and that you’re leaving today. I ask if I can see you before you leave, and you tell me that it wouldn’t be possibly, because your flight leaves in half an hour. I tell you that I understand, even though I don’t. I wish you luck, and tell you that I love you. I fight the tears that threaten to come to the surface and betray my emotions to you. We chat for a while, mostly trivial smalltalk, and then you say that you just heard your boarding call. You tell me that you’ll call when you get your phone hooked up, and then tell me goodbye. I return the goodbye, although reluctantly.
As soon as I hear that empty click signifying that you’ve hung up, I burst into tears and collapse to the floor. I lie there until my sobs loosen their grip on my body. I slowly push myself up from the floor, tears still flowing down my cheeks.
I stumble down the dark hallway to the bathroom. The very same bathroom that we used to share. You would stand in front of the mirror, the very same mirror I find myself in front of now, meticulously brushing every strand of your beautiful hair while I stood next to you, shaving…..smiling as I watched you.
I see my straight razor on the back of the sink. Without thinking, I reach out and pick it up. I gently unfold the gleaming blade and turn it over and over in my trembling hands. Through tear-blurred eyes, I see my reflection in the grime streaked mirror. I turn and find that almost an hour has passed since you hung up. I only know this because of the clock that you insisted on hanging up in here. The room is filled with the lingering stench of hopelessness. On the back of the toilet, on a picture frame….the small white pile of coke is still there, minus a few lines from last night.
I start acting without even realizing what I’m doing at first. I make the first cut too shallow, only a trickle of blood. The next attempt is perfect: slicing through tendons, muscles, and veins. I switch the blade to my other hand with some effort, and, struggling to grip it tight enough, my other wrist falls victim to my determination. With the blood draining from me and covering the sink, mirror, and floor, I fall. I lay there, not moving, feeling the ecstasy of release as my life flows from me. My last thought is of you, the you that I am forever in love with. My angel. My everything. Goodbye.
Conception 12.19.00
Rough draft 12.01.03