Baby boy

1

Trevor:

It was hard. Not knowing what happened to him.

Gone. Just like that.

Telling me the night before that he was going to tell his dad about us, then...

Gone. Disappeared into thin air.

I thought about it a lot. Thinking about the worst. If he didn't love me in the first place. If everything was just one good dream.

All my questions were unanswered.

Getting out of bed was probably the hardest thing I had to do.

I moved to a new town after graduating from the police academy, got a good job, slowly worked my way up, and found myself sitting as the top police officer in my station.

There were a lot of problems within the system itself, but being mixed raced made me feel like it could change one day.

But today was one of those days. The day that getting out of bed took more energy out of me than my daily workout.

My depression held me down, wrapped me up in my comforter, and kept me in bed.

I fought myself for 5 minutes, before finally pulling myself out of bed.

Shower. Get dressed. Coffee. Lots of coffee.

Eating wasn't my thing. I hated eating. It just seemed like a waste of time. I ate lunch or dinner, occasionally a few snacks, but never breakfast. Coffee was my starter. And I was okay with that.

I adjusted my uniform, poured my coffee in my portable container, and walked out the door. Locking it. Got in my cruiser. Headed to the station.

Repeat.

Dragging myself out of bed. Showering. Uniform. Coffee. Cruiser. Station.

Bed. Shower. Uniform. Coffee. Cruiser. Station.

It's getting old. And the days are blurring together.

How boring.

Saturday.

The days dragged on. The room was too quite. I felt alone. Nothing felt right.

I felt empty.

I got over him a long time ago. I just wish I had the closure. Asking why he left out of no where. Why he left me.

I poured myself a glass of whisky and sat on the couch.

I sat on the end of the couch, leaning my back against the arm rest. Resting my legs on the rest of the couch were my body didn't quite fit. 

My legs were too long, so my feet rested on the other side of the couch. Less like a couch, and more like a large love seat. But with less love and more coffee stains.

My studio apartment echoed my sorrows, it was too open. Hearing only the ice clink against the glass as I drank.

I looked around, finding my apartment to be spotless. I hated it. I hated that I couldn't distract myself by cleaning.

I needed a distraction.

I didn't have that many friends, but I had one that I could trust. Well... not really a friend. More of a close acquaintance. Abby. The bar tender at a bar I went to often.

Right across the street. Convenient.

I groaned getting off the couch, heading to my room. Also spotless. Gross.