Midnight lovestory

Is this goodbye?

One night, things get too much and a tough decision's made.

Is this goodbye?

I sometimes wake in the middle of the night, my bed empty and the cold duvet indicating I've been lying alone for quite some time. It always makes my heart ache but I've realized it's his way of keeping me in the dark; his way to make sure I don't know what's going on. And it scares me shitless, knowing that some day he might not come back to bed again; might not come back to me. I always silently make my way out of bed and tiptoe to the living room to look for him because I always find him there; sometimes sleeping alone in the dark on the couch, sometimes looking into the dark like a ghost, sometimes with his headphones on so loud even I can hear the sad music all the way to where I stand, but other times like now, and that's definitely the worst times, I see him silently crying with a sombre look on his face like he doesn't even know that tears are falling.

At the beginning, I sat beside him and asked what was wrong but every time he'd just dismiss it and go back to bed with his back turned to me. It's frustrating, not knowing what's wrong and if there's anything *I* can do to make it better. He won't talk to me, not about this anyways, and tonight I've made the toughest decision, I've probably ever had to make in my life so I slowly make my way over to the couch and sit in the opposite end of where he's sitting. For a while, I just sit in the silent dark, the clock on the wall loudly ticking away indicating time slowly passing. I'm not sure how many 'tick tock's go by before I whisper in to the blinding darkness, "It can't go on like this". More 'tick tock's go by before a shallow inhale comes from his end and he whispers back, "I know". I pull my nightgown closer around my body, "You need to talk to me. Tell me what's going on, tell me *something*", I whisper desperately but I see him shaking his head from my peripheral vision before he whispers defeated, "I can't". My arms sneak around my body on their own accord as a way to protect myself from what I know is coming, "Then talk to a professional at least!" I say louder, still looking into the darkness right in front of me. I know I'll back out if I look at him, see how broken he looks. "I can't", he whispers again, this time somewhat muffled. I slowly fill my lungs with air, the burning sensation in my throat making it harder than usual. More deafening 'tick tock's carefully surround us, like they're walking on eggshells, like they're whispering, 'It's time'. "I can't do this anymore, Mark. Not knowing if one day you won't come back to bed anymore; not knowing if one day I'll wake up just to find you somewhere in the house, still, motionless, dead. I can't.. I can't", I whisper brokenly, my throat cutting off nearly all air. A shuddering exhale leaves him before he holds his breath; those annoying 'tick tock's momentarily fill the silence before the words I've been dreading leaves him, "I know..'. For a few seconds, it's like the darkness gets darker, the silence gets louder, his breathing more prominent and my heart just.. stops. I rise from the couch and walk right back to the bedroom. The door closes with a soft 'thump' behind me and I walk with legs on autopilot to the closet. I pull the closet doors open and a wall of his odour hit me in the nose, paralyzing me right where I stand. My eyes scan across our clothes lying side by side, a tell-tale about a happy life. The second my vision gets blurry, I snap out of the haze and reach for my gym bag at the bottom of the closet. I quickly fill it with the most necessary things and softly close the doors shut before I sit on the bed. For the first time in years, I look around our bedroom; look at the big annoying poster on the wall that Mark just loves, look at the pictures of us together on the nightstand, look at the book by my side of the bed that's laid there for more than a year, look at the cobweb I haven't gotten by to remove yet and finally look at our bed – the first thing we bought together more than eight years ago. Maybe it's *because* it's been almost nine years that it's become like this? Nine years can do something to a person that no one else can predict. I take one last look of the pictures of a younger, happier and more naïve couple before I rise from the bed and walk to the door. Once I'm in the hallway, I put on a pair of shoes and that's when I realize I'm still wearing my nightgown. But I don't have enough courage to walk back into the bedroom and put on some clothes so it has to wait until I arrive at my mum's.

The doorknob has never felt colder and the weight of the door has never felt heavier when I open the door to the dark night and step outside. I close the door behind me without looking back because I know he isn't looking in my direction and it'll just make my already aching heart hurt even more so I make my way down the pathway of the garden and just pull out my phone and dial the number to the one person I know will drop everything and come, no matter what time it is. He picks up at the fifth ring with a groggy, incomprehensive word and I talk without a 'hi' or 'hello', "I just left Mark". And finally it hits me – I've left Mark, I've left the only man I've ever loved, I've left the man I've loved since I was sixteen, I've left the man I thought I'd spend the rest of my life with. And it hit's me like a cold-hearted brick wall. "You WHAT?!" he asks, suddenly very awake and my throat closes up and tears spring to life, "I-I've just left Mark. Oh my God, I've just left Mark! I can't do this anymore, Casper, I can't handle the fear of losing him! You need to come because I don't know what he might do to himself but I-I can't do this anymore. I-I just can't!" I sob at the same time as a car door's slammed closed on the other side of the phone and an engine roars to life, "It's alright, Jonas. I totally understand, he hasn't been well lately. I'll be there in less than-", I don't hear the rest of his sentence because from inside of what I've called home for eight years is a loud smashing sound ringing out. My sobs intensify at the same speed as my feet lead me away from the house, my house, our house, "I won't be here when you arrive", I sob out at the same time as another loud smashing sound erupts the darkness, "j-just make sure he's alright!" I end the call without another word. My speed becomes one of breathtaking running when a heart-aching and bone-breaking scream leaves the house and my thoughts scramble around my mind, though three specific and horrifying thoughts stand out like a sore thumb – is this it? Is this the end? Is this goodbye?

May 24th 2017