Excerpts from The Book I'll Never Write

Drunk Midnight Calls

Your voice is raspy and your words are slurred. I can already picture you with a hand to your head and eyes beginning to droop. Your brain is I scattered and I try to make out your words . It's crazy that even after all this time I'll still answer your calls and remember that voice that makes my heart soften . I'll cling unto every word you say in hopes that the liquor will help me understand Why. Why it happened . Why it won't ever happen again. Why I can't get you-...it out of my head. Your mouth parts slightly on the other line and you inhale ; my heart skips a beat. "Can you come pick me up? " my heart falters.

Although I shouldn't , I reluctantly grab my keys and begin driving because it's you . It's always been you ; you are the reason as to why I'm so naive and soft-hearted , why I always end up trusting so easily and getting taken advantage of so selfishly. All the street lights are a blur ; a mesh of vibrant colors and faint memories of all those other Sunday nights. I pull up to the house full of ghosts. Those broken souls and shattered pieces of what used to be a healthy relationship. Your shadow appears by the door and I quickly compose myself. You look so vulnerable as you stumble towards the car but you give me that lazy smile that makes my heart break all over again. God. You can't even walk straight , but I've seen worse nights. You pull open the car door to the passengers seat and the wind fills my car with your scent ; the scent that still lingers on my pillow and that cheap stuffed bear you bought me for our two year anniversary. I wonder if you realize it's me picking you up and not her. Where is she? Why did you call me? Do you still want me? Do you still love me? No. I'm getting ahead of myself , you misdialed ; and yet every Sunday it's the same routine.

We arrive to the apartment and I aid you in getting out of the car. I sling my arm around your waist and yours automatically goes to my neck . Upon entry, you drunkenly take off your shoes and make yourself comfortable. The blanket is in the same place you left it last week, there's leftovers in the fridge per your arrival and pills in the cabinet to help you cope with the massive hangover and the fight you two had.

"Why do you do this to yourself?! I yell. You simply chuckle with that stupid grin on your face and open the fridge. You eat the food and quickly take the pills. You'll fall asleep on the couch as you always do but tonight you'll say "God I love her , fuck, I don't even deserve her ."

It's only in that moment I'll run to my room before you can hear my sobs because you do love ; the way I love you...but it is not I whom you love , it is her. I'll sit there and cry for hours on end. Soon after , I'll get up and crawl into bed with my hands wrapped around the bear that brings back such fond memories. I'll fall asleep.

I'll wake up to find that you've  folded up the blankets, washed the dishes, and are nowhere to be found. You've put everything in its place just as you use to. There's a note on the table with your scribbled handwriting , my name on the cover.

" I'm sorry about last night. It was a mistake. I promise it won't happen again. Thank you for your kindness and concern." Love _____ .

I'll read the note over and over again and let it slip out of my fingers. I'll smile with this bittersweet feeling on my tongue. I'll come back to my senses at some point only to find that my hands have already disposed of the note.

Suddenly the water is turned on , the steam sticking to the now clouded mirror and the scalding water massaging my back. I'll try to wash off the death ridden disease that is love but to no avail does it work. How foolish of me to think I'd get rid of you.

You are the crack in my voice , the reason for my tears , the nervous pit in my stomach. You are everything bad in this small world of mine. I wish I could say I hate you but we both know I'd be lying.