Brown Eyes | Loubbie

Chapter Two

Sandra Bullock

At this very moment, not a thing can express the voidness that I am feeling; it's like an air is slowly sucked out of me, but instead of crying, it gives me the pleasure knowing that in any second, I will feel no more. Darlin', it's funny and it's scary at the same time. It's funny how we have come to this point - where us feels more like none anymore and it's scary that one day, I might wake up, not being afraid of losing you. I still think about you, but I don't spit it out of my tongue for I know you don't wanna hear my sentiments. At some nights, I'd find my fingers dancing on our inbox - swaying through the dead music it holds and ironically, I find a tingle of happiness. In that very place, lies the memories of our young nights turned to forenoon tales and those will forever be kept in me.

I have been running away, but when the clock strikes it's lonely hours, I would be back to the insides of my own head. And each night, the voice gets stronger. Mayhap, you cannot be forgotten. How can you be when you exist in different places? Your shadow pops in the corner of my ocean-blue orbs and it stands in the corners no one has ever explored. It fills the empty spaces of my room and somehow, even just for a second, I could feel like I have you still.

In my metaphors and idioms, there I will keep you alive... where us runs free - no pretense. Behind my pieces is your name that I will be writing for, always. I will not bother you now nor ask you for anything, but let me just write about you and maybe, I can write a different ending; an ending where changes does not exist and we could stay happy: you and me, forever.

Yours 'til you want me to be,
Catherine

I swigged my vodka as I read her letter from three years ago. I should have gotten over this damn letter by now, but tonight I found myself reaching for a box where I kept special items given to me by her. I'd kept all of the letters she'd given me, but her last letter - this one, the one I was reading - hit me like a ton of bricks. I didn't want to cry, but the tears just flowed out of nowhere. It's been three years, but nothing has changed... it's still painful.

When my phone vibrated on the bedside table, I folded the letter and slid it back into its envelope. Before reaching for my phone, I wiped away my tears. It's a text message from her. She didn't change her phone number, did she?

From: Catherine

I want to see you.

It made my brow arch. Was she insane the second she typed the message? I didn't reply, but I wanted to. It beeped again.

From: Catherine

I know you're not sleeping.

Then came another beep.

From: Catherine

Your lights are still on.

And I stopped. How come she knew? I mustered all the courage in my body and typed a reply.

To: Catherine

It's midnight. You go to sleep.

I waited for a reply, but there was none. But just as I was about to put my phone down, it started ringing. She's calling me.

"How can I sleep if I'm outside your house?"

I immediately sat on the bed. I didn't know if it was a tongue in cheek comment or not, but I immediately ended the call, changed into my robe, and trudged downstairs. I opened my door and ran barefoot to the gate. The night had already been long enough, but this damn woman was telling me she was outside. What on earth was she thinking? When I opened the gate, there she was, smiling at me and leaning back on her car.

"What are you doing here?" I crossed my arms, trying to act pissed, but the truth was, I did it to somehow cover the upper chest part of me.

She smiled at me, and oh, how I missed that. Her hair was kinda messy and she was still wearing the suit she wore earlier in the meeting, yet, she was achingly beautiful. She didn't answer me, instead she started playing with her hair again.

"The hell with you, Cate!" I cussed. "It's midnight and I want to sleep. If you're playing games, go home. I don't have time to deal with--"

I stopped midway when she ran away feet from her car and started puking. She puked the hell out of her. She looked so helpless with her hands on her knees. I just watched her puked until she's done. I suspected her and damn this woman - she was drunk. How did she drive drunk all the way from Sarah's place to mine? She's crazy.

"You're drunk." I blurted.

She turned her back and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. She didn't answer me. But instead, she went to the door of her car.

"Goodnight, Sandra."

I shook my head as she attempted to head inside. But I was quick to stop her by blocking myself through the door so she could not get in.

"Catherine, you are damn drunk."

"Yeah." She nodded casually. "Now get out of the way because I will go home so you could sleep." She stopped and looked at the watch on her wrist. "It's close to one in the morning."

"Are you nuts? You're drunk." I rolled my eyes and held her hand. "Let's go inside."

I closed the car door and dragged her towards the gate, but she stopped. I turned and faced her with my arms crossing against my chest. I didn't have time to argue. It's exhausting and I knew that she was up for it.

"I don't want to hear your talks, Catherine. You're drunk. You should not drive. Get inside." I ordered.

She then smiled and leaned her side on the gate. "I'm drunk, Sandra. But I really don't want you to take advantage of me."

"You're a big joke, Catherine." I rolled my eyes and walked.

I could feel her walking behind me. Her heels were clunking against the pavement. I turned to see and there she walked, barely making it straight. She must have drank too much. I went to her and took her arm to my neck. I then encircled my hand on her waist to support her weight.

"If this would make you mad at me when I wake up in the morning, just please don't take care of me. I can manage. Just let me go home." Cate mumbled softly, her eyes closed.

"No..." I looked at her, and sighed,"I won't be mad, I promise."

***