The Broken Summer

Summer: Stained sheets

 Summer

I awoke to the smell of fresh coffee and the sight of morning light flooding through the drapes of a nearby window. The sunshine welcomed me as it fell over my skin, reminding me it was summertime. The sheets felt soft and delicate against my skin as I reached for the nightstand in search of my phone. But instead my hand was greeted with what felt like a book. I hovered the book over my face, attempting to make sense of what it was doing on my nightstand in the place of my phone.

“The Great Gatsby,” I muttered, straining to read the title with my now apparent headache. The book didn’t sound familiar. I only enjoyed reading sporadically, and this book was most definitely not mine.

I forced myself to roll out of bed, although my body struggled to cooperate with my brain. The throbbing beat of my headache was urging me to collapse onto the bed, but the early bird in me refused. Sleeping till lunchtime was so not my thing. It was lazy and depressing, and everything I’m not.

My feet shuffled around for the slippers that weren’t there, as my eyes scanned the room in search of my silky robe that was absent from its usual place. As I took in my surroundings, I came to the conclusion that this was not my house. That explained the random book I’d found, and the absence of my belongings. But if this wasn’t my house, then whose house was it? And why was I wearing nothing but lacy underwear?

Finally it occurred to me: Lucas. That cute boy I’d met up with in the park a day earlier. The guy who I’d dragged to a party on our first date…where I’d taken a few too many shots of tequila. Shit. What the hell happened last night? And how did I end up naked in Lucas’ bed?! The last thing I remembered was downing a bunch of shots and slurring a bunch of sexual remarks….

My eyes fell to my lacy bra fallen in front of the bed, laid beside my orange dress. Oh God no. Did this mean… I slept with Lucas….on our first date?
“Lucas?” I called, wandering into the living room in search of him. But instead I felt the sting of Lucas’ absence, when I found myself standing in the living room, alone. Near the front door, was the shirt Lucas had been wearing the day before; its buttons scattered randomly across the floor.

A memory of last night flashed through my mind; an image of me pushing Luke against the wall and ripping off his shirt in one passionate movement. This isolated memory was all I could recall of that night, and it planted a very suggestive idea in my mind of where we ended up last night…

The Starbucks cup on the counter sparked my eye, and I rushed over to get my coffee fix. Lying beside the coffee, was a handwritten letter from Lucas.

 

Dear Summer,

You’re probably wondering why I left you here, all alone in my apartment. And there’s a lot I have to say to you. Probably too much, considering I only just met you. Please don’t be upset, it isn’t my intention to hurt you.

Okay, Summer, yesterday was awesome. I had such a great time with you. But things got really out of hand. What happened last night was stupid, and we shouldn’t have let things get as far as they did. You shouldn’t have drank so much, and I shouldn’t have taken advantage of that. So, I think its best if we don’t see each other again. You deserve better than this.

The reason I’m not there telling you all this myself, is because I had to go to work, and I didn’t want to wake you. So, please, let yourself out of my apartment when you’re done.

Lucas

PS: Maybe one day we can be friends. I’d like that.

My jaw dropped after reading these detached words from a man I thought I had connected with. Lucas had slept with me, and now he was dumping me. I’d thought he was better than this. I’d actually thought he was a decent man. Oh how I was wrong. And what was with the whole ‘you deserve better’ bullshit? What he really meant was ‘I used you for sex, and now that I’ve fucked you, you can go’.

What sort of a man treats women this way? The answer: A man who needed to be taught a lesson.

Without thinking through the whole messed up situation, I decided to seek revenge. I would not let another man get away with using me for sex…

A few short minutes later, Lucas’ books had been thrown across the room in a violent splurge of anger. The torn pages of books were laying on their lonesome, far from the novel they comprised. And ‘The Great Gatsby’ was floating in the toilet…

The bedroom wall was coated in a layer of coffee, and the white sheets of his bed were now stained with red wine. The scent of alcohol lingering in the bedroom was a reminder of why last night happened. The stains would tarnish not only the sheets, but Luke’s memory of our time within those sheets. Alcohol: without it he’d have never gotten into my pants; and with it, he managed to get his whole house trashed. Alcohol always has a way of messing everything up.

As I paraded out of the apartment, I left an eruption of rage behind me. I hoped that Lucas would be pissed. But mostly I hoped it would teach him some kind of a lesson on how to treat women. And if the wave of destruction I left behind wasn’t enough to do that, the letter I left for him certainly would.