Nostalgia

Interlude VI

Jo

Sophia, Bulgaria

2020

I blink slowly, flinching as my eyes open to the glare of incoming light. Reaching for the plush comforter at my side and pulling it over my face. Trying to ease the pain pulsing behind my eyes.

A swallow scrapes my throat. The residual taste of cheap wine assaulting my senses, and I feel my heart drop into my stomach with the memories it triggers.

No...

I sit up with a start. Closing my eyes tightly. Trying to erase the thoughts that flood my tired mind. The memories creeping back in, as the events of the previous night resurface like thick oil in water.  

They don't disappear though. They stay. Taunting me behind my eyelids.

I open them again, fighting the sting of tears as I look rapidly around my hotel room.

Settling on the nearly empty wine bottle on the table first, followed by the room service tray left discarded at the edge of the bed. As flickers of last night continue to flutter through my mind's eye. Turning the contents of my already queasy stomach.

I strain to make sense of the sequence of events. Of what is real and what I pray to god is a fucking alcohol induced nightmare.

Hero. Here in the hotel room.

Him smoking on the balcony.

My lips on his and then -

Nothing. 

I feel all the blood drain from my face. An overwhelming sense of shame weighing down my already tired limbs. Seeping into every pore. The heat of it filling my belly, my chest, my throat, before rising to the backs of my eyes. Both raw and swollen. Still irritated from a night of non stop tears.

I look down to find I'm still dressed in my clothes from last night. Never having bothered to change. My unwashed hair is tangled and split around the ponytail I never removed.

I finally did it. After all this time. I fucking threw myself at him...

And he rejected me.

I feel my chest caving, and I close my eyes tightly against the crushing pain. Like if I can't see I wont feel.

But it doesn't help. Not even a little. I still feel it. All of it. Like every inch of my chest has been scraped tender, and raw.

Left completely hollow.

When I finally find the strength to throw back the blanket, and step out of bed I feel dizzy. My legs shaking beneath me as I make my way to the bathroom.

Everything feels surreal. The embarrassment grating on my every nerve. Mixing seamlessly with an overwhelming feeling of regret. Like nothing I have ever felt.

What the fuck did I do?

I run my hands over my face as I chance a glance at the clock on the dresser. Seeing that it's not even past 8 am.

I feel like I may be sick, and when I make my way to the bathroom to scan my face in the mirror I wince at the sight. My eyes are red and swollen. Puffed up over dark circles, and wet, flushed cheeks. 

I run the tap cold. Splashing the water over my face and hanging my head. My palms gripping the marble counter for support. A sob threatening to escape me.