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As I sip my drink, I try to count how many I've had before I look at the bottle that sits on my desk. It was brand new when I bought it at the liquor store last night and now it's only half full.
I should be writing, my publisher has been on my back about getting the book out, calling and emailing me. I can't blame him, though, because I keep pushing the deadline further and further away. I just can't write anything that's actually good anymore, I haven't been able to for two years, and I don't see that changing anytime soon.
I close my eyes and take a drag from my cigarette before stubbing it out into the ashtray as I exhale smoke, and slowly swivel my chair so that I'm facing the windows. I turn my floor lamp off, return to my chair, and stare across the park at her building.
I do this a lot, too much, sit in the darkness and stare across the small stretch of green and trees. There's a light on, I can see it from here, and I wonder if she's there now. It's nearly four in the morning, so I assume she is. Unless she's out with a new lover. The thought makes me close my eyes once again as I clench my jaw before finishing my drink.
Does she have a new lover? Who is it? Someone I know?
Does she think he's handsome? Does she love him? Is she with him now?
I place my thumb and index finger against the bridge of my nose and squeeze so hard that it hurts as I stand. All of those questions are none of my business, she hasn't been my business in over two years.
Why am I watching her building? Why do I still care?
Why do I despise her yet still love her so deeply that it hurts?
I'm jealous of a man with no face, a person that I don't even know exists. That was always the problem. My jealousy. My insecurities. My anger. My moodiness. All things I've never bothered to try to fix, things that are incapable of being fixed, things that have been a part of me for as long as I can remember. All of my imbalances are the reason she left, aren't they?
That's what I've assumed because I've had no other choice. She got tired of it, of me. So she moved on. That's what people are supposed to do, aren't they?
You get tired of something, you leave it alone, you stop, you give up.
But it was supposed to be different with us.
I shake my head as if that would stop me from thinking of her, but I know by now nothing is going to stop this... except for being with her again. And that possibility is long gone, she's made sure of that. It's not easy to keep her off my mind, no matter the time of day or night.
We usually saw each other during the day. We could go out for lunch, go and watch a movie, go shopping, but only outside of the city, but only when her husband was out of town. She was serious about us not being seen together.
