This following short story was written right after things ended with me and him, when the feelings I had were still fresh and raw. It was the first thing Id’ written in 2.5 years and I’d chosen to share it with only a select few. I’m at the point now where it’s okay to share these things. The feelings that were there before, aren’t anymore and I’m glad I can look back at the girl who wrote these words down with tears in her eyes and say, “You’re so much happier now.” I still write about the pain and sorrow of losing a person you thought would be there for your whole life because I know so many people that are going through the same struggle. The stories people have reached out and shared with me basically telling the same thing over and over again is heartbreaking. So I will continue to write these things so someone out there knows they aren’t alone, and that holding onto unhappiness isn’t worth it in the end. I promise you.

The room is dark and quiet except for the whir of the fan. She glances over at the smooth, cold, side of the bed, his side. The pillow is rumpled in a way that proves he’s been there before and the balled up sheets in the corner give off his scent, something she’s found, she can no longer sleep without. Her night stand holds her watch which slowly ticks reminding her as each second passes that he’s still not here. She reaches over and warms the cold side with her hand and breathes in that moment.

Her mind is racing, he’s not back yet and this worries her. She’s confused and frustrated, she never used to worry, she never used to get this upset, but his behavior the last two months has left her anxious and insecure. As she lay there alone, she tries to push down the memories that keep trying to pop up but it’s to no avail. A small one begins to creep through and she shuts her eyes tight trying to block out the pain.

It was another late night and she was in bed waiting for him to come home. She’d been with him earlier but the bitterness he’d held over the night when she was around was beyond painful and she’d hope by giving him some space he’d have come around by now. He finally showed up and she could tell because she woke to the smell of booze and the heat from his body. She glanced at the clock and noticed she had to be to work in a mere 4 hours, still, she rolled over and wrapped her arms around his warm body and held him close. The sickly, sweet smell radiating off his body made her stomach turn but she gently kissed his naked back and whispered, “I love you.” To which he muttered something incoherent back.

What felt like a short time after, she was startled awake by a loud crash and some muttering. Immediately she jumped up and turned on her light, what she saw in front of her twisted her stomach. He was on the floor and the dresser was on top of him. She jumped up to help and saw glass shattered all around, that’s when she saw the blood. He was cut and bleeding, she looked to him for help as she lifted the dresser off of him. He instead proceeded to pull away from her grasp and crawl over to the corner. “Still drunk.” She realized quickly, setting her anger aside as she usually did when this happened. She then ran into the bathroom holding back the tears that threatened to spill over and grabbed bandages, then went over and begged him to let her help. After some cajoling she got him to give her his hand and she slowly and carefully cleaned and wrapped it. It took more quiet promises and small touches but she finally got him back up and into bed. As she lay down exhausted she glanced again at the clock, 1 more hour until she was up again.

She grabs one of her many pillows that fills their bed and places it over her face, willing the memories to stop, willing the clock to stop and willing for the sound of his tire tracks in the driveway. That memory that found it’s way through wasn’t even the worst part of that night and it was like torture that her brain felt pleasure in giving her. “When did I become the last person he wanted to be around?” She thinks as the tears fill her lids. As she silently cries a happier memory from months before the last fill her mind, as if her brain is apologizing for it’s cruelty but she continues to cry a little harder because those are the worst to bear.

They were on the beach, the air had bites of cold in it but was still warm enough to walk around on the rocks, exploring the area. It had been his idea to come down here and she was pleased because she knew he didn’t particularly like it, so she knew it had been only for her benefit. They walked around hand and hand, something she also knew he wasn’t normally comfortable with. She looked up and smiled at him and he led them over to a spot where they sat and looked out on the beautiful coastline. She laid her head on his shoulder and felt comforted as he began to vocalize his thoughts for their life together. “How did I get so lucky?” She thought as the happiness swelled inside her. 

Now she’s up pacing the hallway, glancing out the window for any sign of him. Her phone lights up with messages from his friends and family, all out looking for him. The alcohol that had been on his breathe when he’d left earlier has everyone’s hearts racing as they search for him in the dark. Panic sets in her heart. She has never cared for anyone so deeply as to be this worried. Thoughts of him being injured on the side of the road break her heart in two. She sits on the bed wishing she could leave and go out searching like the rest but knows that it’s best she stay where she is and just wait. This makes her feel like a shell of a person that she once was. This quivering, worried, uncertain girl is not the same one he met that short time ago. As she sits staring down, hoping the phone will ring with his picture in the background another thought comes flooding back like a tidal wave.

Vacation, the windy city, just a year before. From the moment they’d left for the airport that morning he’d had a black cloud over them. Angry about something but not willing to speak up. She knew better than to ask, she didn’t want to risk a potentially happy trip. She’d hoped this was a passing feeling and he would be over it soon, as he usually was. “How could he be upset, we’ve been looking forward to this weekend for so long.” She thought to herself as they boarded the plane. As the trip wore on his agitation and patience with her only became more and less. He rolled his eyes when she couldn’t keep up with him walking the streets, and he cringed when she asked that they do shopping or sightseeing. She was used to dodging his bad moods and usually could put him back in a pleasant one but this one wasn’t changing, everything she did just seemed to make him angrier. As the weekend wore on she gave up trying and confronted him about it. What followed was a blow up that had never occurred between them to that extent before, he claimed she was ruining his vacation by not letting him relax and she begged him to tell her how that could be possible. Nothing came from the argument that night and she felt the loneliest she’d ever felt with someone else sleeping just a fingertips length away from her.

Finally the call comes in, it’s him. A sense of relief fills her from head to toe and she immediately answers. “Hello?!” She says her voice cracking. “What the hell?!” Is his response. “What’s with all the calls, you, my mom, and my sister have been calling me non-stop.” He asks trying to sound indifferent but there is an anger underneath. “I’m sorry, we were worried. Your family called upset that you hadn’t made it home yet and I’ve just had all these thoughts going through my mind and..and…I can’t lose you, I just can’t do it.” She says this all in a rush, trying to get it all out before the tears come. His voice gets softer and he says, “Hey it’s okay baby, I’m okay. I’ll be home soon. Don’t worry, I just went for a ride to blow off some steam.” His tone is assuring but his words cut deeper. At first a blur of good memories blaze through her, their first date and way he looked at her, the moment he told her he loved her, all the lazy Sundays and inside jokes. But then reality sets in. “Why isn’t he home? Why can’t he be home? Why can’t I be the one to make him feel better?” She finally speaks again, her voice under control, “Okay, I love you.” “Love you too.” He says quietly back.

The night’s crisis is over but this is still another day out of many since he’s been home that she’s cried over her confusion as to why she can’t keep him close anymore. ‘I love you’ doesn’t hold the same tenderness and respect it has for many months before and it hurts her heart too much to wonder what that means.

She begins to drift off to sleep with a restless feeling deep in the pit of her stomach. Knowing that tomorrow will bring no more comfort than today.The end is nearing, she can feel it, but as tears roll down her cheeks and onto her pillow she sends a prayer out that she’ll be okay anyway.