thanks to Hailee Steinfeld for writing the song Wrong Direction. truly inspired this piece.
please forgive me for the short amount of writing this is. college is crazy like that.
falling.
For a split second, I think fate is on my side.
We're in the same bar, sitting two seats away from each other. She's got a rum and Coke in one hand; a joint rests in a bed of ashes, and she reaches for it, taking a hit.
My hands are shaking, my breath coming in hot gasps. I mentally slap myself. What the fuck am I doing? We're over. She's never coming back.
The breakup was rough. The circumstance were rough; she got knocked up and here I was, accepting total responsibility, but she wouldn't let me have it. She wouldn't let me care for her kid-her and someone else's, late one night, probably high on the same joint she sits here smoking now.
She got an abortion. Without telling me, I might add, and goddamn it, did it make my blood boil. But again, she wouldn't let me speak. She brushed me off and walked away, stating that we were over.
Momma used to ask Darry and I the same question whenever we had friend issues: "If they jumped off a bridge, would you?"
Looking back, at all the people in my life, I don't think I would've jumped higher off of a bridge for anyone but her.
I painted us a happy ending, Sandy and I. I wanted to marry her. I thought she loved me.
She loved with the best and worst parts of her. I'm not even sure if the good side was inside her in that moment-when she fucked another man, knowing damn good and well that it would hurt me. It was only the joint, her lustful self, and a dumbass who didn't know right from wrong.
I guess I'm that dumbass.
So here we are, at the same bar, casting each other glances, but not saying a word.
And for a second, I feel my hands scoop myself up, and I start to move towards her-
-but then a man comes up, rests his hand on her hip, and I silently avert my gaze.