I wonder if you’d actually expected me to come back to the winery and read your words in the ever-growing guest book. Were you such a hopeless romantic you thought I’d return to read your words and somehow relieve the things we went through? I wonder how long you waited for me to read your message and call before you moved on. Have you moved on?

The tears crawling down my face reach my chin and fall, each one a small world containing a fraction of the pain I feel inside, onto the book where you’d written your message for me to find one day. This day.

Waves of remembrance crush through my body, flooding my heart in a sea of sadness. All I can think about are you caramel brown eyes, the ones I could stare into for hours, hypnotized by the way you looked at me. I’ll never forget that. No one’s ever looked at me the way you did. The thought of grazing your lips seeps into my mind, I close my eyes and it’s almost like you’re there. Almost.

The waiter comes around to makes his rounds and catches me daydreaming. He brushes his light featured hair from his forehead and says, “I don’t mean to interrupt ma’am, but might I interest you in the house special for today?”

I look down at my empty wine glass and contemplate taking up his offer. “I don’t know. I’ve drunk quite a bit today already.” I’ve already finished my third glass and my tolerance isn’t what it used to be.

The waiter smiles at me and says, “Come on, you must. I’ll tell you what; the first glass of this bottle is on the house. It’s a special day you know.” He smiles and walks to the back where they have the wines in a controlled environment. He returns and sets the bottle in front of me. The label catches my eye. I’ve seen it before. “This bottle is one of our award-winning wines made from Muscadine grapes. The natural redness to it complements the sweet taste which transports your taste buds to another dimension…”

“Afternoon Delight,” I half murmur it under my breath.

“You’re right. This is Afternoon Delight. I see you’re familiar with it.  It must be from back before the winery almost went out of business. The new owner insisted we bring back this blend after the previous owner discontinued it. He made sure we continued to carry this blend no matter what. He really did the winery a big favor by taking over and expanding our distribution nationwide.”

“Sounds like a smart man. Maybe I’ll meet him one day.” I say with a tone of sarcasm the waiter doesn’t catch.

“Today’s your lucky day. We’re celebrating our three-year anniversary under new management today. He’s around here somewhere, let me see if I can find him.” After seeing the excitement in his eyes I can’t tell him I give two fucks about meeting the owner. I just want to be left alone.

I pour myself another glass of Afternoon Delight after finishing the one he served. After a while it loses its taste and all I feel is the sweet nectar of amnesia warming through my body. Why is it I can’t stop thinking about you then? Why is it I cannot forget you?

For some reason I long to hear your voice whisper sweet nothings in my ear and feel the touch of your lips at the base of my nape.  Any sort of contact with you would suffice.

Running my fingers on the screen of my phone, I contemplate calling you; using the excuse I’m meeting the owner of our old favorite winery as a base for a conversation. Would you even have the same number? I wonder.

While I turn my head, scanning the room, I see the waiter talking with a well dressed Hispanic male with his back turned to me. I assume he’s the owner.  My palms begin to sweat and I think of you. Without thinking much more I dial your number.

Ring. Ring. Ring. Ring. So you haven’t changed your number.

I turn to glance at the waiter and see him waiting while the other man has his phone to his ear.

Distracted, I almost overlook the breathing on the line. I wonder if you’re waiting on me to say something first. Overwhelmed, I shed another tear. It’s all too much and I hang up. I remember when I used to make you call places for me. You were always the shy one who didn’t like talking on the phone. Somehow I feel you rubbed off on me.

Scarred, I dial again.

There’s a ringing in the building except this time closer than last.

With my heart beating out of my chest, I hang up before I give you a chance to answer. The invisible hands of fear run around my neck like a noose. I realize I wouldn’t know the first thing to say to you.

I can hear the waiter and the other man walking towards me, his shoes making a slight click as he walks on the hardwood floors.

As I turn around to great them, I come face to face with a smiling Hispanic man who simply says, “You forgot to smile.”

I wake up with a raging thumping in my head. There’s light coming in from the cracks in the blinds, a while light illuminating a room I’m unfamiliar with.

Where am I?

I can hear water flowing in the room next to the one I’m currently in, a steady stream coming from a shower no doubt.

Who is in there?

I brace myself up with two hands and rest my back against the top of the bed and try to make sense of the night before. I remember swirls of color, loud music, and bottles of hard liquor. I remember…very little else.  I rub my head and let out a soft groan of displeasure.

I hear the water turn off inside the bathroom and the realization I’m fully naked under the sheets hits me. I scramble to find my clothes around the bed but they’re not there. The hard wood floor lays barren with only a fur rug covering the area immediate to the bed. Afraid, I cover myself up with the sheets as best I can.

I watch the door with hawk like attention, waiting for someone to come in. Somewhere along the line I decide it’d be better if I pretend I’m still sleeping. I lie back down and turn my body so I’m facing the dresser on the right side of the room. The mirror above it has a clear view of the door which I eye intensively. As I hear steps coming towards the room I close my eyes.

I listen as the soft steps get near the bed, too soft to be of danger. I’m convinced the person behind them is a small delicate female. I feel a delicate hand run it’s thumb down my cheek and find it hard to stay still. It becomes even harder to stay calm when I feel a pair of tender lips press against my cheek.

Who is this person?

Delicately I feel the person lift up the sheets enough to climb in behind me. A hand slips in under my own and rests against my chest. A head nestles itself against the nape of my neck, a breath of hot air causing my body to get chill bumps. I can’t take it anymore so I pretend the movements around me have stirred me from my sleep. I turn my body over and stare into an ocean of turquoise and greens. The thumping in my head replaced by a churn in my stomach.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to wake you.” Your voice is as delicate as I remember it, soft as the first rose petals of the season. Under any other circumstance I would have been pleased to hear your voice; now all I can do is force a smile on my face.

“It’s alright. I should probably be up anyway. What time is it?”

“Time isn’t of essence when you’ve got me.” If matters had been different, I would have agreed. I always envisioned things would be different though.

“What happened last night? Where am I?”

“We’re at my place. Don’t you remember anything?”

“To be honest, no, I don’t remember much at all.”

“It’s not important I guess. Just add me to your list, who am I? Number 23?” I can see the hurt on her face. It’s a feeling I’d often worked hard to remove from her smooth pearl like complexion.

“I don’t…” I stop and think about what I’m going to say next. Under any other circumstance I would lie, but at the moment, lying seems feeble. “If numbers really bother you, know you’re number 1.”

The room goes silent.

I’d talked to the girl earlier in the night, she seemed attracted to me but I kept giving her cues I wasn’t interested.

She’d walked up to where I was sitting in the back corner of the bar and asked me what I was drinking. Her brown highlighted hair rested in curls around her shoulders and into her back. Her eyes a blend of soot and baby blue skies—imagine it but you’ll never grasp their true color. After telling her I was drinking an old-time favorite of mine she asked if she could sit and share a couple of drinks with me. Even though I wasn’t interested in her, I wasn’t about to be an ass. I told her to sit and motioned for the waiter to bring us a couple of beers.

She told me about her dreams of going to Hollywood and becoming a big shot actress. I simply nodded and smiled. For some reason I had a hard time believing anyone from our shitty town would ever make it big.

Somehow our conversation turned into stories of crazy experiences with ex’s. She told me she once had sex with one of her ex’s on top of her mother’s dresser. Though I didn’t see it as exciting, I had nothing to really out do her with. All my ex’s had always kept things fairly boring when it came to sex. Crazy for me would have been doggy style with the lights on.

Feeling awkward with the conversation, I excused myself and went to the bathroom. It wasn’t two minutes later that I heard the door open and then lock. I turned around to see her small frame leaning against the large white door. She came over to me and drank from my neck, kissing my collar-bone and telling me take her as I wanted.  The though crossed my mind but I knew it wasn’t what either of us wanted. We were simply feeling the effects of alcohols hands creeping through our bodies.

She bent over the sink and made the motion for me to come up from behind. I walked up to her and turned her around, grabbed her hands in mine and told her I couldn’t. I unlocked the door and went back to where I’d been sitting before. She followed me back and whispered, “If you’re afraid we can go back to my place. No one will bother us there.”

I could smell the alcohol on her breath, overpowering the perfume she had on. I again said no. I guess she understood by then I wasn’t interested. She knocked over the beer in my hand and rushed out the door. I didn’t think anything of it; I wasn’t going to chase her down. I motioned for another round of beers.

The sirens blared loud over the light noise inside the bar. We all rushed out to see what was going on but by then the cops had the area cornered off. I saw her long brown hair long enough to know it was her being put inside the coroners bag.

Late at night when I’m fighting off mental demons, tossing in turning in my bed, hoping to fall asleep, I wonder about the drunken girl who was murdered outside of the bar I used to frequent. I wonder if she’d still be alive if I’d let my hormones do the talking for me and gone to bed with her.

I think about it and cringe I feel disgusting thinking of a dead girl that way.

I called you yesterday with the expectation of saying a quick hello and then going on about my way. A call which should have taken three minutes turned into an hour-thirty long conversation about our lives without each other. A part of me wants to say you were expecting my call and the other part says it caught you off guard. I don’t want to think I kept you on the line against your will, I’m pretty sure it was welcome on your end. Your invitation to come over today proves it somewhat.

I wonder if you still have your finger nails painted purple to match the highlight you put in your hair the last time I saw you. I wonder if you still have the ring I gave you on. I wonder if you’ve thought about me as much as I’ve thought about you.

If you ask me how I’ve been, I’ll lie and tell you I’ve been doing just fine. I won’t mention the first couple of nights in which I cried myself to sleep. I won’t mention the deranged thoughts of suicide which ran through my mind while I drank myself into a coma like sleep. I’ll look at you as I always have, straight into the eyes, and lie. I’ll tell you I’ve been doing perfectly fine. I’ll mention the few moments of inspiration I’ve had here and there, tidbits of artistic genius which inspired pieces I’ve been able to sale, fueling my habit.

I’ll ask you how you’ve been doing, but I’ll hardly listen to the words you say. I have  no way of knowing if you’re lying as I will be or if the words you speak are words you really mean. I’m afraid of knowing the truth.

I’ll bring a bottle of whiskey along in case you want to share a drink with me. I know you will.

I wonder if you’ll say any of the two different three lethal phrases I have in mind. I wonder if you’ll say them before I do. A part of me still doesn’t know whether my ‘I love you’ will come out as “I loved you,” or if my ‘I miss you’ will come out as something else. I guess I’ll just wait and see.

I haven’t seen you in two weeks, and I haven’t thought about you in seconds.

The gun Fear pressed to my head wants to think you still miss me too, but I’m not sure.

That’s when the tide swallows me again.

Sometimes when I’m showering I can feel your eyes on my naked body and I purposely move in a promiscuous way to arouse your attention as if you could actually see me. I know I’m the one holding your ghost back in my home, I’ve simply been unable to let go. I long for your eyes to graze over me and hear you say how blessed you are for having me in your life. I didn’t realize it then, I do now, in reality I was the one who was blessed for having you in my life.

Sometimes, when I’m sitting alone at night, cross-legged by the fireplace, watching a scary movie, I call out your name as if you were actually there. The awkward silence that follows only serves as a reminder about how lonely I truly am. I can hear the tick-tick of the clocks second-hand moving around its predetermined path. Some nights when I’m truly scared I pick up the phone and call you. The phone is never answered, it used to ring and ring but now I simply get a service disconnected message. I still call sometimes in hopes you’ve reconnected your old phone number and pick up. Yeah, I know, I hold onto impossible situations.

Sometimes when the phone rings, I run to it in hopes of seeing your name on the caller ID. Though it never shows up, I answer the calls marked as private in hope one of them is you. It never is. I’d give anything to scurry to the phone one day and hear you breathing on the other line. Even if you spoke no words you’d make my entire day. Knowing I’d crossed your mind long enough for you to dial my home would make me feel less of an imbecile for believing in something which has long been dead.

Sometimes while I’m driving around town, revisiting our old spots, I see someone who looks like you. I stop to see if it’s really you but I’m always disappointed. I’ve never once seen eyes as brown as yours. I know they say brown is brown, but that’s not the case with you. Your eyes always shined in a way I’ll never be able to forget. The way I’ll never be able to forget your snow-white smile, a smile of champions.

Sometimes I lay down in a bath full of water and run a razor over my wrists. Not deep enough to end my life, just enough to feel the pain. Death is an escape from the pain. My twisted mind keeps me longing to feel the pain I inflicted onto you. I couldn’t ever kill myself. The red running down the white sides doesn’t change anything at all.

The red running down the sides

Doesn’t change anything at all.

Anything at all.

You’re still far away, your home town a blur in the rear view mirror of your car, and I’m still here.

Pathetic, isn’t it?

Everything’s becomes a shadow of something you once were

(Please tell me you feel the same, hearts aren’t easy to tame.

I won’t look back if you promise to do the same)

(I’m rolling around with my heart on the ground

My sanity was one lost but it’s been found

Next time you see me you’ll be an afterthought

Something for which I’ll wish I’d never fought)

I didn’t want to, and I didn’t think I

Could ever, let you go, but I did

And now that I sit clear minded

I just can’t find it.

The love I, had for you is gone

Or was it even there before?

I turned my head in the darkness and say, “We decompose and become maggot food I reckon.”

In the darkness I can see her eyes squint and her eyebrows move, giving me the stint eye. “I’m being serious. What do you think happens to us when we die?”

“Why do you ask? Bree you’ve never dwelled on this subject before.”

“It’s just something to talk about while we sit her for God knows how long.” She moves around in her seat and takes my hand in hers. Even though she tries to play it off, I know she’s scarred. Frankly, I am too. If I’d known my car would overheat and leave us stranded in the middle of fucking nowhere, I wouldn’t have put so much effort in putting the trip together.

I think about her question and say “Well, I suppose we go to heaven. I don’t believe we just die and poof that’s it. There has to be something more. Life can’t be like a light switch and just turn off. We live our entire lives accumulating knowledge. I find it hard to believe it all disappears in the blink of an eye.”

In the distance I can hear a wolf howl. I know she can hear it as well, I sense this as she squeezes my hand in hers. “I don’t want to die. I’m scared.”

I chuckle to break the thick tension and say, “You’re not going to die, not tonight, not ever on my watch. There are a lot of things I’m uncertain of, but one thing I do know is I would never let anything happen to you.”

“Do you promise?”

“Yes, I promise.” I take her face in my hand and slightly kiss her on the lips. “We’ll make it out of her alive. It’s a simple overheating problem. We just have to wait for it too cool enough for me to pop the radiator cap. I’ll pour some of our water in there and that’ll be enough to get us out of these woods and into the nearest town. We’ll get more help there.”

I can see relief washing over her face but I know she’s still scarred. That’s one thing I knew well about Bree, beneath the cool exterior was a fragile girl.

We sit in silence for a while, when fear has a grasp on you, its little fingers choke up your throat into silence.

The invisible hands of fear grasp my throat as I watch a pair of red eyes move closer in the distance. I squint, straining my eyes to focus on the object moving towards us. A silhouette becomes an outline and the outline becomes a blur. The harder I try to make out the object behind the red eyes, the blurrier the image becomes. At a point I’m almost certain I’m staring back at my own eyes.

“Bree, I don’t ever tell you this much, but you have made an amazing impact on my life. An impact I wouldn’t exchange for anything in the world. I’m not going to let anything happen to you. You hear?” I stop and wait for her to nod her head in agreement. “Now what I want you to do is close your eyes and don’t open them until I say so. Promise?”

“Why? I don’t understand.”

“Just do it, okay?” I watch the eyes in the distance get closer, prompting my hands to start sweating. I look back at Bree and notice she’s closed her eyes. “I love you.” I open the door slowly and begin to walk out towards the eyes.

“In the name of Jesus I compel you to present yourself. I have a great God and am not afraid of you.”

As the darkness engulfs my surrounding I question my rationality. What exactly did I expect to happen by openly opposing this unknown threat? Did I really think I’d be able to fiend off a creature I didn’t even know? I close my eyes and let fear reign supreme.

In the darkness everything blends together and you lose track of your surroundings. “Open your eyes.” A voice whispers.

Bree listens and screams.

He looks down at the head resting on his chest and says “What do you mean? We are happy aren’t we?”

“Well yeah but…” she stops and lifts her head until her eyes are fixed on his. Glassy eyed she says, “Do you think we’ll ever be a happy family? What I mean is…do you think we’ll ever have a baby?”

He lets out a sigh and says, “All we can do is try. I’m sure we’ll be blessed with a child when the time is right.” He runs his hands through her hair and caresses her face. He runs his thumb over her forehead and done her cheek, resting it on her lips.

“We’ve been trying for years. Don’t you think the time has come?”

“I’m not sure it works that way. We can go to a fertility doctor if you want. See what options we have there.”

“I don’t want our baby to be conceived by science, I want a natural conception. The way God would have wanted it.” There’s a hint of anger in her eyes, like they’ve talked about the matter before and she’d made her position perfectly clear.

“What other options do we have?”

“I think we should see other people and…”

He stops her mid-sentence and says, “You’re ready to throw away everything we’ve built without exploring any other options?”

There’s a low croak coming from her throat, one he knows well, he’s heard it every time right before she begins crying. “I just want to have a normal happy family. If you can’t give it to me well…”

He stands up from the bed and searches the floor for his clothes he threw off earlier in the night. Without saying a word he gets dressed and walks out the door into the cold winter night.

Moments later his phone vibrates and he answers the call. “Hello?”

“You can’t just run away from your problems,” says the voice on the other line.

“Sure I can. You said it yourself. If I can’t give you what you want then there’s no use staying around. I’ll be back later to get my stuff.”

Dial tone…

When he returns home he finds his clothes have already been packed for him. There’s a note on the top written in black ink. It reads, “I found your medication. I didn’t even know they made it for guys. At least we don’t have to keep lying to each other and messing with our bodies anymore. I was taking it too.”

I found the bottle lying on the floor, empty of course. I should have remembered I’d drunk it all the night before but then again there wasn’t much I remembered from the night before. The nauseating blur of colors retold tales of binge drinking and half-ass attempts of picking up the phone to call you. Something I couldn’t do with a straight mind was definitely something I didn’t want to do while intoxicated. I wonder what kept me from calling in my moments of total loss of cognitive ability.

I sniffed the air hoping to smell the reminiscent tinge of hazelnut coffee clinging in the air but of course it wasn’t there. The smell hasn’t been present in my house since you left. You’d think I’d have to foresight to program the coffee machine before going to bed but that never happens. I’d grown used to waking up in the morning and seeing your face smiling down at me. I’d grown used to you bringing me my breakfast to bed: real orange juice—not the half-water-half-sugar concoctions marketed as orange juice, sausage, eggs, bacon, and a mug of hot coffee to finish it all off.

Sometimes I wondered how long you’d been watching me sleep before I opened my eyes. I wondered what you saw in my messy haired, bad breathed face every morning. When I asked you once you told me, “What’s there not to see. I see a beautiful girl innocently dreaming in lands far far away, trouble-free and unstoppable.” I wonder if you still use that line on whoever it is you’ve fallen over now.

I walked into the kitchen and poured myself a cup of juice. The motivation to do cook anything else wasn’t there. You were all I could think about.

I wanted to drown myself from the world by two o’clock in the afternoon. There were too many things rattling inside my head I didn’t want to be bothered with today. There were things in life I’d rather forget.

I checked my purse and found a couple twenties lying inside. One alone would have done. (You’ll think it’s funny when I tell you this; you were always the one to commit this oversight before.) I sat down in my car, cranked the motor and started to drive down 52 when I realized it was Sunday. Of course I’d pick the one day of the week ABC stores are closed to have an emotional breakdown.

On my drive home I kept hoping a semi would come out of nowhere and crush my little Fiat. In my mind I envisioned that monster overtaking my mouse car, flames rising into the air, and a quick death. Michael Bay had nothing on the disaster I envisioned in my mind. I kept hoping anything would happen. Something to turn my ordinary day around like you were able to do with the simplest things you did for me.

When I got home I could hear the phone ringing inside, I could hear the ring ring ring of a clamoring phone waiting to be answered. I figured I wouldn’t make it in time to answer it so I didn’t even bother running in. The ringing continued longer than I thought it would. I wanted to run but I knew as soon as I made the decision to rush to answer, the caller would give up.

I woke up this morning one hand wiping the sweat from my forehead and the other reaching out onto my nightstand where I usually kept a bottle of whiskey handy for mornings like today’s. Mornings when all I want to do is fade into a pseudo coma fueled by the hands of alcohol

I woke up this morning fully expecting the day to go like every other day of my life, the life I fell into after you left.

I wasn’t expecting your call.

I’m typically a shy person, I guess you could say it’s my one downfall, yet the palpitations in my chest were stronger than the social fear I’d lived with my entire life. I walked from where I was sitting and made my way to her. She brushed a bang of hair behind her ear, cocked her head my way, and smiled. “You ever have those moments when there is only one person in the whole world you can talk to?” she says almost in a whisper.

“Yes, constantly, I suppose we all have that one person.”

“What do you do when that person is someone you hurt horribly in the past?”  She stopped, frowned and stood up, careful to turn her head away from me before I could see a tear starting to form. “I’m sorry I shouldn’t have come back.” She turned her back, laid a $50 bill on the bar and began to walk out.

“I have a whiskey bottle back home if you want to come over and talk. I’m sure you remember where I live.” I watched as she stopped for a second and then continued to walk out the door. A part of me felt saddened by her quick departure yet a part of me felt relief. The thought of her return caused my heart to beat harder than usual and this is what scarred me. Why after all these years did I still have such strong feelings for her? Her  presence awakened feelings I hadn’t felt in months and I was glad a bottle of whiskey was waiting for me.

I drove home after having another margarita and an order of cheese fries.  Sitting on my steps was a lone shadowy figure I recognized as Lexi’s. “Do you really have that bottle or was that just an incentive to get me here?”

I wanted to tell her to go away. I wanted to tell her to get off my fucking doorsteps and go back to wherever she’d come from. I wanted to tell her I loved her. The invisible noose around my neck tightened and all I could say was, “come on in.”