Worth Living For

Chapter 27

Kathy was crazy, for bringing me out that night. Or maybe I was crazy for going along with it. But, she insisted that I needed a night to just have fun, forget about the pain I was in for a few hours. And damn, did I forget.

She led me to a bar that she called ‘the best in town’. I followed her inside, feeling like a lost puppy for a while. But as soon as she set a beer down in front of me, I fit right in.

I got drunk. Drunk as hell. I lost track of the beers that I downed after around five or six. The bartender just kept shoving them into my hands. I hadn’t drank alcohol since I was in high school, back when my friends convinced me it was “cool.” It was the only way I could fit in with them, so I did it. And now, I did it to numb the pain.

Kathy drank just as much as I had, but wasn’t half as wasted as me. She must drink a lot; she must be used to it.

My vision became blurred, my actions foggy, and I forgot about my pain for a few hours. I was numb. Kathy and I danced. Once I was sober, later, and my brain was functioning properly, I was glad that she hadn’t tried to make a move on me. Sure, she had danced up against me, and as a normal male human, I had been turned on. But she hadn’t kissed me or tried anything else, and I was thankful for that. I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself for it later on.

Around three in the morning, Kathy drove me home. She hadn’t drank since one, and she was somewhat sober, so I trusted her. I stumbled in the door, making my way through the dark apartment and collapsing onto my bed, passing out instantly.

~

I hadn’t had a hangover in years. And the one that I woke up with that morning reminded me why I never wanted one again.

Coffee helped with making the headache calm down. I needed to get the photos from Gerard’s last night with me developed soon, and I figured that in this state of mind, the alcohol still buzzing in the back of my head, and the pain was still somewhat numbed. This would be the best time to do it.

I still had a headache, so the music would be a no-go. The silence was what I needed, anyway. It gave you room to think, too much, but I felt like I needed to do that in order to get over Gerard.

The dark room was my escape. It made me feel alive, even in the numb, death-like state I was in. Maybe photography was my real passion. The one thing that I thought was my passion had left me. Photography was my escape, made me feel free. It could be my new passion, too.

Even with the pain numbed, I cried. Seeing his face again was hard. We were so happy, so in love. Had he known that night that he was going to leave me the next morning? No, he couldn’t have known. He wouldn’t have done everything he had with me that night if he knew he would be gone.

Didn’t it hurt him? Didn’t it cause him pain that he would never see my face again, never touch me again. We’d never make art together again, never have a family or grow old together. Maybe we weren’t meant to be together, and that’s why he left. Maybe he found someone new, someone better than me. Had I gotten boring? Is that why he left?

Even though I cried, and I wanted to get it over with, I took my time with the pictures. I couldn’t ruin them. No, not these ones. They were the most important pictures I had taken in my life.

I finished after a few hours. My headache had gotten worse from the crying. Or maybe the pain just wasn’t numbed anymore, and it had gotten so bad that it had broken me as much as it could emotionally that it had to use its energy to hurt me physically, too.

I sounded so pathetic in my mind. I sounded like the movies. But it hadn’t just been my heart that was broken. It was my everything, broken. Shattered. Gone. My whole life had walked out of the door, left me. Maybe for someone else. Maybe because I had just gotten boring. Maybe because I wasn’t good enough in bed. I’d never know.