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|don't tell anyone i'm here
i got tylenol and beer
i was thinking that you'd call somebody closer to you
oh, but your love is such a swamp
you're the only thing i want
and i said i wouldn't cry about it
this is the last time.|
He can't believe how dramatic this all is. The rain, the thunder, the strong bourbon swishing around in the glass.
The silence.
Not that he's not used to the quietude. Ever since his ex-wife moved out- hell, even while she was there and long before she even arrived- he lived a relatively simple, quiet life. He lived in routine: wake up, workout, head to work, come home, have a glass of the most available alcohol, sleep, repeat. Routine kept his thoughts in order, kept him on a straight path. Routine is faithful, unyielding, dependable.
It's also relatively boring.
It's lacks color, vibrancy, it's fucking dull- something he would not have even noticed until she introduced those things into his life. He chuckles to himself and takes another sip of the brown liquor in the glass. This whole thing, all of this reminiscing, thinking about feelings, Oprah-Dr.-Phil-yadda-yadda-yadda bullshit feels like a scene out of one of those pathetic romantic comedies she's always forcing him to watch. He can't help but to find some humor in this moment. This is what his life has become. Drinking more than his fair share of spirits, pining over an unrequited love, trying to erase memories. It's all so... Shakespearean. Sad. Pitiful. Ridiculous.
He downs the last of his drink and slams the glass down on the table in front of him. He's getting up. No one ever got anywhere sitting and wallowing in their sadness. Maybe he'll go workout or head into the office to do some paperwork or something- anything to get his mind off of his pathetic situation. The key is to get back into routine, and that's just what he'll do. Boring or not, routine is reliable and it doesn't go running back to its shitty ex-boyfriend and it doesn't pretend like it never kissed you back and it doesn't act like the feelings aren't mutual.
He pushes himself off of his couch and starts to make his way across his apartment to his bedroom. He's halfway there when a knock at his door stops him in his tracks.
What am I doing? She leans forward and places her head on the nearby wall, banging it softly. She takes a big inhale and exhales, resuming a standing position. Now would be an excellent time for Beyonce Pad Thai to step in, for her inner warrior to kick into gear, because right now, she feels like everything is crumbling around her and she's useless to stop it all.
Jesus. Why did he have to kiss her like that? Why did he have to open a door that she thought she'd never have to open, a door she thought she had put the tightest lock on? Why did he have to help her write that letter to Cliff? Why did he have to say all of those things and mean them, and why did she miss all the freaking signs? Why, why, why? Frick.
She kicks the wall lightly and sighs. Her boots are ruined from the rain, and it just reminds her that everything sucks. Seriously, everything leading up to this moment had literally fallen apart; nothing had gone according to plan, if even there was one.
After they landed, everything between her and him had quickly turned awkward. Once they were in the airport, she had rushed to baggage claim, secured her luggage, found a cab and then headed home, leaving him somewhere in the airport. Hell, even after the thing, they hadn't spoken. They just sat there in silence, her staring out of the window, and him pretending to read some random magazine. She could feel him look at her occasionally, felt him wanting to say something, but just turning back to whatever lame article he was feigning interest in.
She hadn't even turned her phone on until she was safely inside of her apartment, and the minute she did, she regretted it. She had 32 text messages and several voicemails. Most of them were from Cliff wondering when she was landing and if she wanted to meet and telling her he wanted to talk, but one voicemail was from him.
"Hey Min. Mindy. It's.. me. I just wanted to say... I don't- I don't know. Just... like you ran out so fast and we didn't really have time to talk and.. yeah. That's actually the most exercise I've ever seen you do in a while." He chuckles and lets out a sigh, and she finds herself doing the same. "Sorry Umm.. yeah. Just call me when you get this." And then it ends. She checks her messages and sees his most recent text to her:
You should fix things with Cliff.
And that's how she finds herself outside of his apartment. And boy, did she have some words for him. She straightens herself up and approaches his door, letting out a breath, and then she knocks.