Forgetting Roman

{ten}

{ten}

                “Aspen?” Roman said as he walked into the room we were sharing for the weekend. “Aspen, where are you?” He asked as his heavy footsteps filled the room on the other side of the door. Locked away in the bathroom, I sat in the old, yellow rub with my knees pressed up against my chest.

                I hadn’t left after our argument. After Roman had left saying we weren’t the same, I couldn’t find it in me to move, to leave.

                Something in me told me that if I left, Roman and I would end, and I didn’t want that. The mere thought of him and I ending made the strings in my heart stretch. As pathetic as it sounded, I couldn’t lose him.

                So after hours of being locked away in the room, silently staring into the mirror across the bed where I sat, I found myself searching through his bags. I found what I was looking for.

He always carried his own.

The voices were louder.

The urges were stronger.

My will was weaker.

I caved.

                “Aspen,” Roman said again as he twisted the bathroom doorknob.

                It was locked.

                “Aspen, what are you doing in there?” he asked, his voice strong and deep yet still laced with worry as he tried to open the locked door. “Aspen, baby open the door!”

                With shaking hands, I brought the colorful pipe up to my lips and flicked on the black BIC lighter. The strong smell of weed filled my nostrils and with a deep inhale, smoke filled my lungs.

                The constant twisting of the locked door knob was distant as I closed my eyes and tilted my head back, the smoke still lingering in my lungs.

                The voices were quieter.

                The urges were weaker.

                I felt nothing.

                I was numb.

                “Aspen open the fucking door!” Roman screamed as he pounded his fists against the wood.

                Releasing the smoke, I watched it with half open eyes as it drifted towards the ceiling. Lost in the distance were Roman’s demands. Lost were the voices in my head, and satisfied were the urges I craved.

                Little did I know, this downfall, would be the worst of them all.

++

                “Where were you?” My mother questioned as I stepped into the house. Roman had just dropped me off after our weekend at the cabin. The entire drive back had been silent. After Roman finally gotten into the bathroom and found me asleep in the tub with the colorful pipe still in my hand, he had become distant.

                I glanced over my shoulder and noticed my mother standing with her arms crossed over her shoulders at the entrance of the living room. Instead of being dressed in her usual black pencil skirt and button up blouse that was tucked into the waist of her skirt, she wore a pair of blue plaid pajama bottoms with a white long sleeve V-Neck.