The Dirty Heart Experience

Had U

To say that the events of the day had left me shaken would be an understatement. My feet had been glued in place as I watched him climb into the depths of the car, my eyes focused on the smokey glass he was hiding behind. It seemed like he was always hiding. Hiding from me. Hiding from the past. Hiding from our past. I could feel a hot ball of anger building in the pit of my stomach the longer I watched the car. I wanted that damn car to move, to get out of my sight, but almost as badly I wafnted to see him step back through my door and accept the hell he had coming to him. I needed him to feel how I felt when he disappeared, how I've felt for the past 7 years. I needed him to know the pain I still carried with me, the pain that made it nearly impossible to more forward. As the mammoth vehicle finally pulled away my knees gave way, my now trembling form sinking to the floor behind the counter. My breath stuck in my throat, tears I thought I'd finished with years ago poured down my cheeks as I sat there, my shields finally dropping, my eyes scrunched closed tight, trying to shake the image of him now. The image of a man that didn't seem to care about our past, but who seemed all to happy to see a... what was I to him? An acquaintance? A fuck buddy? His one time mistress? I stayed there on the cold industrial floor for some time contemplating what role I really played in his past from his perspective and trying to regain my composure. I ended up spending hours cleaning up the shop, even going so far as to get some of the weekly deep cleaning done in the back on my own. A fruitless attempt to shake the feeling and the memory of him.

Hours later I stepped through the solid wood door of my townhouse, feeling like a shell of the person I'd left the house as that morning. I needed to keep busy, I needed to keep my hands and my mind distracted. It had occurred to me earlier that I had been hiding too, but I needed to hide, I needed to keep those memories at bay. I needed my past to stay in the past. His eyes were there every time I'd close mine and take a deep breath and all I wanted to do was run home and hide. I wanted to hide from him, I needed to for my own self preservation, but more than that I wanted to get lost in what could have been. I dropped my purse on the dark blue console table in the entryway as I kicked off my shoes and without giving it a second thought I found myself walking up pine colored stairs. I told myself not to do this, I hadn't done it in years, and every time I had it had been a set back for me. Today though, I couldn't resist. I closed the door to my bedroom behind me as if I was afraid someone would walk in and see me drowning in memories. The small crystal lamp on my bedside table the only light in my room as I reached into my closet, up to the high shelf I rarely used.  Standing on tiptoes I felt the rough texture of the box against my fingertips and drawing a heavy breath I pulled the box from the shelf. I carefully took the few steps to my bed where I gently sat the box on down on the crisp white comforter. There was a nagging in the back of my mind, 'Don't do this. This will only make it worse.', but instead of listening I sat behind the box, folding my legs under myself.

The box was starting to show it's age, the purple fading slightly at the edges from handling and the corners knocked down from multiple moves. Running my hand over the top of the stiff cardboard structure, my fingers curling around the lid, pulling up, and exposing all my stagnant pain and clouded memories. The copy of Lovesexy I'd bought at his suggestion one evening was the first memory I pulled from the dark purple confines, the tiniest smile tugging at my lips, memories of us discussing music, the first night we met online.  Laying the case next to me on the bed, I reached in again, my fingers finding the sturdy material of my dark denim jacket, bringing it out to lay over my thighs. The sound of my ragged breath seemed to fill the emptiness around me as my right hand caressed the slightly wrinkled fabric of the sleeve. The first time we actually met, every emotion I had that evening flooded over me like freezing river water. Gripping the fabric tighter as the memory of the day it came back to me in this exact purple box floated through the flood of emotions, followed quickly by the image of him standing in the sparse living room of my college apartment. Tears were welling up at the corners of my eyes as I allowed myself to drift back to that week. How I'd grown so comfortable with him in that short amount of time. How I'd never felt so at peace before or after that week. How I'd trusted him without question, never once doubting his intent to return and make something more of our time together. How quickly I'd come to love him. The tears cascaded over my water line, wet streaks of memory decorating my face as I remembered it all. Shared words and caresses and promises, all of it still just s raw as it had been the that last day we spoke. My heart and my world broke apart that day and they've never been put back together. Burying my face in the denim I couldn't stop the sharp tears, the hurt was still too fresh. 7 years later and the wound was still gaping as though it was fresh.   

"Goddamnit!" My voice cracking between my tears as I threw the jacket across the room causing a clatter as it knocked two photos and a bottle of perfume from the top of my dresser. "I can't handle this." words mumbled to myself as I wrapped my arms around my bent legs, holding them to me to me as though that was the only thing keeping me grounded. I cried until I couldn't cry any more, until I was exhausted and my eyes were so swollen they would barely open. When those swollen eyes finally did open I noticed I had knocked over the box, leaving printed pages of some of our conversations sprawled out across the pale wood floor. I couldn't bring myself to reach for them. They were lies, his words were all lies, he had been a lie. Just as I was about to look away from the floor my eyes caught the smallest glint of something next to my bedside table, something I'd forgotten I still had. There it was, like a old discarded shoe that no one cared about anymore. Taking the gold, diamond encrusted band between my fingers I studied it for a moment. He had been so quick to throw away this promise to her that I shouldn't have been surprised he was so quick to dispose of me.  This ring and me were just relics of his past, relics that he should just leave in his past. The shrill sound of my cellphone startled me, causing the ring to fall from  my hand. "Shit." I absent mindedly reached for my phone as I looked in the opposite direction at my floor trying to locate the small piece of gold. "Hello?" My voice distracted and tired as I continued to survey the floor.

"Sydney?" The second I heard his voice I remembered I hadn't checked the caller ID.

"Yes." trying my best to sound calm and hide any evidence in my voice that I'd been crying.

"I, um... I don't know what that was about this afternoon, but I wanted to check on you." His voice was shaky, like a boy calling a girl for the first time.

"I'm fine Tony, I..." My voice cracked and drifted off, unable to continue that lie. The lie I'd been living for 7 years.

"You don't sound fine." There was a deep timber of concern his is voice and I couldn't stop the tears from welling up again. "Do you wanna talk?" Shaking my head as if he could somehow see me. A small hiccup of breath escaped my lips.

"I can't, I..."

"What did he do to you Sydney?"