Screaming Infidelities.
3:30 a.m. She lay in bed. Wide awake and cold.
This was her fault. That's what she tells herself every night she comes home to the emptiness. She rolls over and reaches under the pillow beside her to pull out a battered looking envelope. Using the light of the barely there moon, she reads the paper stuffed inside for what must have been the thousandth time. One hand clutching the letter, while the other brings a bottle of something harsh to her lips. She sucks in sharp, choppy breaths, fighting the urge to cry. Drowning the choking sounds with more dark liquor, she slowly drifts to sleep.
"When are you coming home? I...I need you."
Her desperation makes herself sick to her stomach, and she starts to hate herself for dialing the only number she knew by heart. Here she was sitting on her living room floor, mindlessly playing with a crimson strand of hair she found while looking for the remote. This was never supposed to happen. So many emotions were swirling around inside her chest, and she acted completely on impulse.
"I can't. You know this. You know this is the right thing to do...I have to go."
Her phone became a grenade and pieces flew everywhere when it hit the wall. She read the letter again, and chased it with a drink. The remote lay forgotten underneath the couch.
Friday night Jesse takes her out to a party to see some old friends from college. He says she needs to get laid. So, she shrugs and says sure as she grabs her favorite jacket from her closet. And maybe it still smells like the one thing she misses. And maybe she finds two beautiful red hairs clinging to the collar. It breaks her already broken heart, and she smiles.
The party is more laid back than most of the college parties she remembers from the past, but she sees a lot of people she was once close with. It's like it never changed. She's reminded of her from every story that's being reminisced, so she keeps filling up her plastic cup. She doesn't dare join in, and can't even bare to say her name.
When someone points out the two new people at the party, that's when she needs to leave. Although, she steals a few glances, because she has to know if she's really happy. She has to know that this other person is right for her. She sees her smiling, and all she can wonder is if it's all real. Is she really this much happier without her?
When bright blues meet her dull, somber eyes, she turns and leaves the party for good.
She knew it was her fault. Work had devoured her, and she let it. She let it take her away from the rest of the world, because it was her dream. Every day she put every ounce of energy into her music and the artists she worked with. She worked overtime to accomplish perfection and meet crucial deadlines. This was everything she had ever hoped and dreamed of coming true. What she didn't dream of was falling deeply in love at the same time.
She never practiced for that part. The music, yes. Every day throughout high school and college was preparation for this. She had no prior experience for love. There was no need. No time. Until this beautiful woman slipped through the cracks. With no practice though, she was unable to balance the two. She failed the first and only person she ever loved, and she was never getting them back.
The day she came home to the crisp envelope sitting on the kitchen table was also the day her music career crumbled at her feet. No matter how many times she read the note, she never understood a single word.
The ending was all that stuck.
"I will love you always and forever."
She doesn't know why she agreed to it, but she needed to get out of their house.
Her house.
Her extremely lonely, dark house full of memories that hung heavy in the air like a humid August night in Georgia. She had been laying in bed with a record playing a song that was supposed to be mellow and happy. Yet tears stained her cheeks, and soaked her pillow as the words reminded her of a time where red hair cascaded over her face instead. Where soft laughter filled the room, and soft kisses danced upon her face. She closed her eyes and tried to remember her laugh. A better song. Her favorite.
Her phone rings.
"Aubrey?"
"Mitchell, you and I are going out tonight. You need this."
There's silence on both ends for a moment.
"I won't take no for an answer. Get up, get dressed, and I will be there in fifteen minutes."
The line goes dead.
She doesn't know why she agreed to it, but here she is with her ex's best friend. She knows she looks like shit. Her eyes have dark circles surrounding them that makeup could never cover. The blue of her iris has permanently changed to grey, and the whites now remain red. Her hands shake as she brings her drink to her lips. This doesn't go unnoticed by Bree, who watches her warily.
The conversation is forced to say the least. Bree suggests shots to help lighten the mood just as a band takes the stage next to the bar.
"It wasn't your fault, you know?"
She looks at her and quirks an eyebrow up.
"Well, not completely at least."
She gives a half smirk, and Bree continues.
"Didn't you notice? She wasn't exactly hiding it. She wanted you to see it, but you didn't Mitchell. You fucking didn't notice when it was right in front of your face! She wanted your attention, and you didn't do anything about it. Now it's too late. Now you're broken, and now she's moved on. You need to do the same."
"What are you saying?"
Bree sighs. She laughs, and then looks at her. Searching those bloodshot eyes for something. Anything.
Confusion. Hurt. Pain. Curiosity.
It was all there.
"She was cheating on you. She had been for a while."
Two more shots were placed in front of them. Her body is working on autopilot as she takes the shot glass and tosses the fire down her throat in one swift motion. She watches Bree do the same as the world moves around them, unaware of her heartache.
She's back to her bed with a song stuck in her head that the band at the bar had been playing. She hummed it softly as she thought about what it meant to her.
Why hadn't she seen the signs? Remembering back, it all starts to make sense. Coming home often to an empty house after a long night at the studio. She never questioned it, always assuming she was out with friends. She knew she was lonely, she had told her on numerous occasions.
She remembers her coming home one night in particular. Her hair was a mess, and she wore a shirt she didn't recognize. It smelled like cigarettes. She knew the redhead didn't smoke. She was drunk though, so she must have been at the club with Bree.
She never asked. She never worried.
The humming slowly progressed into singing as the sadness formed into anger.
"Well, as for now I'm gonna hear the saddest songs, and sit alone and wonder how you're making out."
She really did love her, and all that she ever wanted was for her to be happy. She wondered if she still thought about her. If certain songs made her think of campfires and empty pools. If the color of a clear summer sky touching the ocean makes her think of their first lingering glance. Their first time making love. If the smell of her shampoo makes her think about being titanium and the first time she fell in love.
"But as for me, I wish that I was anywhere
With anyone
Making out."
She sat up and flipped her pillow over, relishing in the coolness pressed against her cheek. When she opens her eyes she spots another long red strand, and she laughs.
"Your hair, it's everywhere. Screaming Infidelities. And taking its wear."
It was two o'clock in the morning, and she was drunk. She was drunk and singing. She was laughing to the point of tears over how appropriate the song was. She realized how badly she needed to do laundry and vacuum under the couch. So she did.
With her headphones snug over her ears she began working. Getting rid of every strand of evidence. Every scent. Every coffee stain. She threw away the spare toothbrush she had kept in hopes of the redheads return. She burned the little notes she had kept and tortured herself with. She even burned the note. Every little disposal bringing her closer to sobriety.
And everything was going to be ok safely beneath her headphones.
She couldn't hear her phone go off,
or hear the message that was left by a broken voice that sounded a million miles away.
"I need you...I meant what I said. That I will love you always and forever. I want to come home Beca."
But she wouldn't hear it until the next day. Because she is laughing and getting back to where she belongs.
It's 3:30 a.m. and she lays in her warm bed with a smile on her face.
Her eyes are heavy, and she finally gets some sleep.
Humming a song.
Screaming Infidelities.