This is part four. Read part three.
John sat on the edge of his bed, nursing a beer. He had stopped and picked up a twelve pack on the way home from work, as a sort of celebration. A factual timeline would show that tonight was the second anniversary of his moving to New York City. On a lonely Thursday night, however, John tended to focus on other things.
He could still hear the sounds of her sobbing.
They laid in bed, staring at the ceiling. The room was mostly empty, with assorted boxes stacked against one wall, and red, numbered stickers on all of the furniture. He could feel her roll over to face him, and he sensed that something was wrong. Fear kept him from looking at her.
“Please.”
His entire body tensed. “Please what?”
“Please take me with you.” Her voice cracked noticeably. He felt as if she was barely holding herself together. He tried to distance himself from the moment. The kitchen. He wondered if he had finished filling out the inventory for all of the kitchen stuff. The movers were coming tomorrow, first thing, and if he hadn’t finished–
“Are you even listening to me?”
He sighed and adjusted his position on the bed. Her face briefly came into his field of view. He could see the tears welling in her eyes. He remained quiet, and unwilling to compromise. It wasn’t his fault that she couldn’t deal with this situation. She was being foolish and stupid, which was so typical for her. Only thinking of her emotions, and what she felt like she wanted, rather than doing what was logical, or what made sense. She was completely ignoring everything that they’d discussed, and the decisions they had made together. Not only that, but she was being incredibly selfish. She knew what he wanted, and he knew that. She knew he knew. Why was she being like this? He hoped it was only temporary. A last minute lapse of judgement that would quickly be tempered by reason. For the most part, she was an intelligent and responsible woman, even if a little immature at times. She’s probably working through the last few issues right now, he thought, right at this very moment. And in a minute or two, she’ll be fine.
Her last emotional barrier crumbled. It was as if a higher power had suddenly robbed her of her sanity. Tears began running down her face. She sobbed uncontrollably. Her body heaved with each gasping breath she took. He did not see any of this. He couldn’t bear to face her. In his mind, he could imagine what she must look like. He squeezed his eyes shut, and tried to shake the image loose from his head. Her sniffling only served to irritate him. He could feel his resolve slipping away. If this kept up, he would crack. He would roll over, and see her laying there, helpless and alone. A strong, independent woman, laid bare a helpless child. He would have to comfort her. Only a monster could remain emotionless in that sort of a situation. He opened his mouth slowly, his chapped lips cracking apart painfully.
“I’m going to go double check the kitchen.”
The sounds of sobbing had quieted. He felt her roll over, but did not look to see how she was arranging herself. He rolled off of the bed and stood up, then walked out of the room, moving slowly and purposefully towards the kitchen.
As he dug through boxes of pots and pans, mulling over a checklist and trying not to think about much else, he heard the front door of his apartment tear open, then slam shut. She had left.
Tonight was the second anniversary of the last time he’d ever spoken with her. Usually, he could go an entire night without recalling the details of that incident. Once, he’d even gone as long as two weeks. Lately, though, he relived it daily. Hourly. In the span of a moment, his mind meticulously replayed each word, each sound, each sob, with crystal clarity. Each time, the motivations for his decision became muddier. And each time, his feelings of remorse and regret were amplified.
Through his closed bedroom door, he heard Joey come into the apartment. John froze. Every muscle in his body tensed. He listened intently. Several seconds passed. Each one felt like an eternity. After twelve to fifteen lifetimes, he heard Tiffany’s voice. He relaxed, and let out a sigh. She was in the apartment. He hadn’t seen her since their dinner. Hurriedly, he leapt to his feet and put his beer down on his desk. He ran his fingers through his hair. Why would he do that? She was just a friend. He just wanted to make sure it wasn’t all sticking up, he assured himself. He gave it one last run-through just to be sure, then straightened out his shirt and fixed his collar. He strode across the room to his door and reached his hand out towards the knob.
He heard Joey’s door shut.
They had gone into his room.
John’s hand fell to his side. He looked around the room, as his brain struggled to come up with an excuse to be standing in front of the door. It failed to think of one in time to stop the embarrassment.
John picked his beer back up from the desk, and sat back down on the edge of the bed.
Read part five.
Tags: Narratives
this actually made me sad
GOOD JOB