Chapter Twenty-One: Tonight I Wanna Cry
Alone in this house
again tonight Derek sat at the kitchen
table, staring into a glass of red wine. Every now and then, he would
glance over to the one picture in his possession of him and Addison
hugging and smiling, and each time his eyes fell upon the picture,
his heart died just a little bit more. It was the only picture he had
taken with him when he moved out of their apartment. To this day, he
still didn't know why he tortured himself by placing it on the
kitchen counter for him to see everyday. It only mocked him and
reminded him of what he had lost. He drank the rest of his wine and
poured himself another glass. Besides the occasional glass of wine
during a meal, Derek never usually touched the stuff. He was more of
a beer and scotch kind of man, normally. But, the situation he
currently found himself in, was anything but normal. He was
sitting alone in his cramped New York apartment drinking wine with no
meal to wash it down with. He didn't have the energy to cook anything
today. Besides being too tired from working almost 36 hours straight,
the memory of today was weighing him down heavily, and all he could
find the strength to do when he returned home, was plop down into a
kitchen chair and drink from the bottle of wine that should have been
opened in celebration a year ago today. His mind was filled
with the memory of rushing home to get everything ready for his big
proposal that fateful day a year ago. He had been so nervous, yet
excited as he set everything up and gazed lovingly at the velvet box
containing the circular symbol of his and Addison's future, the very
object signifying the never ending love that they would share
together. All of it seemed so insignificant now. And his preparation
leading up to it only felt like precious time spent wasted on
something that he knew now was never in his grasp. He felt like such
a fool. He couldn't believe that an entire year had come and
gone already. By now, Addison was probably already excelling at
everything that was being thrown at her in LA. Hell, she was probably
way ahead of people on the genetics team that had been there for
years. She was smart and focused. Determined and strong-willed. There
was no doubt in his mind that she was already making a name for
herself. And what was he doing? Still in New York. Still working at
the same hospital, although he had not done a very bad job excelling
in his position. He was gaining respect. He had received a
significant pay increase. He loved his job. But it wasn't
enough. There was a hole in his heart now. His heart had been
pierced the moment Addison walked out of his life and that tiny
pinhole had only been growing ever since. And now, it was a gaping,
huge thing that widened with each memory of Addison and the end of
their relationship. Not only had he lost his lover, but he had lost
one of his best friends, too. It was like two of the closest people
in his life had died the moment he shut the bedroom door and made his
way towards that couch. He was sure that the pain and
suffering showed across his features, even when he was at work, but
he tried desperately to hide it under a mask of fake smiles and
constant professionalism. And most days, he was sure that he had
succeeded in fooling people. And he secretly prided himself over the
fact that he had never cried over what happened with Addison. Not
once did he shed a tear. When he felt sad or alone, or angry to the
point where he felt like he would burst, he just pushed it further
down within himself and closed the lid on it. Or, he got insanely
drunk and slept with a random girl. He didn't want to cry. He didn't
want his body to do anything that signified how truly broken he was.
He didn't want to know. But, tonight? Tonight was a different
story. Tonight, his eyes stung
and salty tears pooled at the bottom, gathering, gathering,
gathering. He tried to blink them away, but the opposite happened.
Instead of his tears vanishing, they spilled over, dropping from his
eyes in big, fat, warm drops that fell onto the mahogany table and
splattered against the bottom of the wine glass that sat in front of
him. He tried to stop them, but they kept coming. It was like there
was an internal faucet somewhere inside him and the handle had broken
off and it was producing tears out of control, like a thunderstorm of
big, fat raindrops. The tears left wet trails down his cheeks, and
some of them gathered along his jawline and hung there, waiting to
fall and meet the same fate as the tears before them. He wiped
his face with the back of his hands, his insides willing his eyes to
stop leaking, his brain to stop thinking, his heart to stop breaking.
But, his insides wouldn't listen. They had a mind of their own and
they were taking charge. A deep empty, sinking feeling formed in the
pit of his stomach. It twisted and turned and boiled and resettled,
only to repeat the same wretched movements again. All he could do was
keeping drinking, and keep wiping his hands against the slick, wet
skin of his face. He imagined that he probably looked as
horrible as he felt. Dark circles had formed under his eyes, and his
hair was in disarray after he had worked his worried fingers through
it so much in the past hour that he had been sitting there. He didn't
care about what he looked like, though. In fact, he didn't care much
about anything at the moment. The memory of Addison and the end of
what they shared kept slamming into him harder, and harder, and
harder, as each moment passed by. It's all he could focus on, so he
felt that he needed to drink more wine until he wasn't able to focus
on anything any more. Not Addison, not her memory, not his sorrowful
heart, not his whole world being turned upside down and sideways. He
just wanted to feel numb. He wanted to forget. He
felt so stupid sitting there alone in his small kitchen. He didn't
like letting his emotions get the best of him. It was one thing to
cry at a family members funeral, or tear up while experiencing a bit
of pain, but to openly cry and breakdown over a broken heart, even
while alone, was something else entirely. It felt so strange to him.
So foreign. Like he was having an outer body experience. His soft
sobs pounded in his ears and resonated through the kitchen, bouncing
off the walls and echoing like a freight train. His body physically
hurt as he unleashed a years worth of pain and anguish, loneliness
and heartache, emptiness and sorrow. He was sobbing so hard
now that he didn't hear the knocking on the door, nor did he hear the
door being unlocked by the one person who had possession of the only
key he had made. He was wiping frantically at his tears, his head
hung down as another wave of sadness poured over him. He was a mess.
And absolute freaking wreck of his former self. A shell of a man once
happy and vibrant and positive and good humored. He didn't look up
when the solid footsteps reached the doorway of the kitchen, nor did
he even move a muscle or try to stop crying as he felt a warm hand
and a gentle pat on his shoulder. In fact, such a familiar touch only
made his sobs increase, but at least the friendly pat made him
realize that he wasn't alone. And that brought a little
comfort.
I got the TV on, the sound turned down and a bottle
of wine
There's pictures of you and I on the walls around me
The
way that it was and could have been surrounds me
I'll never get
over you walkin' away
And I thought that bein' strong meant never losin'
your self-control
But I'm just drunk enough to let go of my
pain
To hell with my pride, let it fall like rain
From my
eyes
Tonight I wanna cry
"All By Myself" would
sure hit me hard now that you're gone
Or maybe unfold some old
yellow lost love letters
It's gonna hurt bad before it gets
better
But I'll never get over you by hidin' this way
And I thought that bein' strong meant never losin'
your self-control
But I'm just drunk enough to let go of my
pain
To hell with my pride, let it fall like rain
From my
eyes
Tonight I wanna cry
Tonight I Wanna Cry by Keith Urban