Talk To Me

Oliver

I sit at the edge of my bed with my hands harshly gripping my sheets, staring at the picture on the wall of me and a blue eyed blonde. The picture felt like it was taken yesterday. I can still feel how my heart was pounding when I got down on my one knee and popped the box open, and how it dropped the moment she turned around then started back up at an unmatchable pace when she said yes. It's been three days and it's still just as hard as when I woke up to all of her things gone but her ring sitting on her night stand.

Three days isn't a long time, but I feel like I should be healed by now. Weird. Her floral scent stayed put on my sheets, making me fall asleep each night with the thought that she's next to me. I find myself with a slight smile on my face everytime I lay on the bed and get a whiff of her. I roll over every morning after my alarm goes off and instead of my arm catching on the soft body of hers, it falls limply onto the now cold sheets; a heartbreaking reminder of how she's not here anymore is the opposite of what I need to start every day.

I bring myself to my feet and pull the picture off the wall, holding it tightly in my hand as I walk around the bed. I grab the ring that I kept right where she left it, in the event that she decided she wanted to come back. In case she wanted to continue on and start the family we had dreamed of a million times. An exasperated sigh leaves my mouth as I walk to the bathroom and throw the picture in the trash, hoping to throw away the memories of her with it.

The ring was expensive so I won't be throwing it away, instead returning it. I toss it in the top drawer that all her makeup things used to sit in. I won't check the drawer. I have no reason to. I look up into the mirror and get smacked with how I look. God, Oliver. You've let yourself go in three days.

My eyes are pulled down by the bags under them and my usually short beard is long and untamed. I look fucking homeless. I put my hands on the edge of the counter and lean forward, dropping my head in defeat. For a second, I swear I feel the warmth of her short arms wrapping around me, feeling my abdomen up. I open my eyes and shoot my eyes up at the mirror in the hope to see her peeking around my arm with that giddy, goodmorning smile one more time. Again, a disappointment when her bedhead isn't behind me.

Oh, Mariah. Sweet, sweet girl. I never thought that the loss of her evil giggle after she would pinch me or pull my hair every morning to make sure I'm awake would leave me a mess. The roughness of her morning voice always made me go insane. I'd always attempt to put her up on that counter or throw her on the bed and please her but she'd usually tease me and then walk away to leave me needy for the rest of the day. Fuck, I miss her. I miss her full body under me with her blue eyes locked on mine, her silky skin against mine as she traces my tattoos. I miss her.

I'm taken away from the memories of her when I feel the warmth of a tear dropping down my cheek. Am I seriously crying over a woman who couldn't even leave a note? Pathetic, Oliver. Pathetic. I wipe my tears and turn the shower on, now seemingly bare after her things were taken out. I undress and step in the shower, scrubbing away my weariness.

A student of mine, Ada, saw me the day she left. The one day I decide to run and I knock my student on their damn ass. I still feel bad because she looked up and seemed taken aback by how I looked. She seemed disgusted. Poor girl now has that image of me in her mind instead of the prestigious Professor Levine I used to be. She was dressed in a fitted crop top and leggings with her hair in a neat ponytail. Ada looked more put together than her thirty-four year old professor. Yeah, that's a great look for me.

The heat of the water swarms me as I scrub my body, trying to not focus on the blood rushing to my groin at the thought of Mariah stepping in the shower with me. Her stout figure being able to turn me on immediately. The fullness of her chest and everything below it. God, so much more to love. So much more that was just for me. So much more that I could uncover every time I took her clothes off of her. So much more that I now miss.