Never Cover up What We Did With a Dress

I glanced worriedly over at Manson as I buzzed Demi into our home, watching as he began to walk up to me, both of us waiting for Demi to reach the door. When she did eventually, Manson opened the door, and I barely recognised her face. Red, puffy, blotchy, bloodshot eyes, sickly drained pale cheeks, greasy out of place hair, running nose. Immediately I was consumed with worry for my friend.

“Demi, go into the kitchen for a second, will you?” I asked as I grabbed her duffel bag that was lying in the doorway.

Manson and I exchanged worried glances, and I bit my lip, not knowing what to do.

“I think I should check on Tony, babe.” Manson said quietly. “I’ll be back soon. Will you be okay here with Demi for a while?”

I nodded, kissing Manson on the cheek as he left the apartment. I swallowed back fresh sobs as I saw the sight of Demi sitting, totally alone and empty, at my kitchen bench. I was utterly traumatised with guilt, knowing somehow that all this heartache, all this pain, was purely my fault. Quietly I walked into the bedroom, placing Demi’s bag by the bed. I hurriedly pulled the covers tautly across the mattress, cleaning the room roughly so Demi wouldn’t see how Manson and I were so utterly happy when she wasn’t.

Re-entering the main room, I made my way over to where Demi sat, her body rigid and still. My hand gently caressed her back as I sat beside her, holding her limp body as she cried against my shoulder, into my chest.

“What did he say?” I asked.

“Nothing.” She sniffed. “I bought it up with him, and he just looked as though I’d slapped him, utterly stunned. Then he continuously apologised, begging for me to understand he didn’t mean to not tell me. After a while he just went… silent.”

“And then you left?”

“Yes, my bags were already packed when he eventually got home.”

I hugged her as she continued to cry, all the while silencing the thoughts that were uncontrollably brainwashing my mind. This is your fault, Chesney. Manson will realise that soon enough, get angry with you for Demi staying and ruining your home, leave, so you end up like her. Lily won’t have a father anymore; you’ll lose him again to someone else. You don’t deserve him now.

“I’m so sorry, Demi.” I managed to choke out, not allowing myself to cry anymore. I didn’t deserve to. This was Demi’s situation, and Demi’s pain.

I watched her face crumple even further, and my recently founded philosophy almost went out the window as tears welled in my eyes. Demi blamed me, it was clear from her reaction. I watched as she cried suffocating sobs, my stomach flipping in remorse. I didn’t know if I should hug her, let her slap me, or leave her. Each option showed diaster. Should I beg her for redemption? Should I comfort her?

“Chesney! How could you possibly even think about blaming this on yourself? It’s no one else’s fault but his!” She cried angrily. “That stupid, fucking lying bastard!”

I felt slightly less crushed that Demi didn’t blame me, and quickly I decided that enough was enough. I needed to stop moping around and feeling sorry for myself. As I said before, this was Demi’s crisis, and I needed to make it right again – not out of guilt, but out of friendship. Tony did the wrong thing, and maybe on some degree it was justified that Demi should leave him, but I didn’t see the enormity in the punishments that were being formulated equal the betraying mistake that was made. Throwing away such a love-drenched relationship that was full of unmet potential was not only unnecessary, but I could see now what a mistake it would turn out to be in the future. Demi was just so shocked and hurt at the moment that she was lashing out more so than she normally would, and I didn’t need to be down in the dumps with her. It was my job to get her drunk, to help her heal, and to show her how much she loves Tony, despite the wrongness of what he had done to her.

“Do you still love him?” I asked her.

“I don’t know.”

“If you don’t know, why are you so upset about it?”

Demi was silent.

“I guess I do love him then.” She muttered after a few minutes. “Chesney, of course I still love him! Look at me, I’m a mess. I haven’t stopped crying since I found out, and what’s worse is that I don’t know what to do to make it all go away.”

“You have to accept it, and start getting over it.” I said, sliding my chair back and walking to the opposite side of the bench. Leaning up on my tippee-toes, I reached into the liquor cabinet above the sink and laid out an array of straights on the table.

“Oh, no.” Demi groaned as she saw what I was doing. “I probably shouldn’t, considering the possible pregnancy and all, but I am so going to.”

Demi finally rose from her seat, still visibly upset, and walked around the bench to help me pour. Tequila, vodka and absinthe shots, bourbon and coke, beer. I rummaged around in the drawers until I found my cocktail book, and together Demi and I made the easiest looking ones, all the while slamming down the hot liquid, feeling it burn as it slid down our throats. In a matter of minutes Demi was on the ground laughing at something I didn’t even know, and I felt the room spin around me, collapsing on the ground next to her as I joined in on the laughter. Before I slipped out of any type of responsible thinking, I realised that I had a child in my care and that although she was sleeping, I wouldn’t be in the right state to look after her if she woke. I willed for Manson to come back soon, but the ominous thought slipped my mind as I saw how Demi looked relatively happy.

__________________________________

“Oh my God.” I hear a gruff voice mutter quietly as my eyes snapped back open. Manson was standing in the doorway, Demi and I were still lying on the ground next to one another, and the room was still spinning significantly. It dawned on me that she and I had been sleeping for only about an hour once we’d drank and were still very much drunk.

“Hello.” I giggled as I watched my boyfriend come toward us. He didn’t look angry, nor did he look amused as he placed the almost empty bottles of spirits back into the cupboards, wiping the countertops while trying not to step on Demi or me. I tried to sit up, but instead my head just banged back down onto the cold, hard tiles of the kitchen. Demi’s laughter roared around me and I joined her as we giggled uncontrollably again. Manson was looming above us, smiling down in obvious amusement as he watched us fool around on the tiles together.

“What’s the time?” I slurred at him.

“Four in the morning.”

“I’m tired.” I said eventually, and Manson nodded.

“Me too.”

“Can we go to bed?” I asked him.

Demi wasn’t paying attention to either of us; instead she was passed out next to me. Manson walked closer toward me, his hands grabbing my underarms as he lifted me up, leaning me against the kitchen counter. I watched as he then picked up Demi and walked with her over to the couch, placing her onto it and dressing her in a thick blanket. I smiled as he returned to me, trying to support me as he moved me in the direction of our bedroom.

“I can walk!” I giggled, and immediately I fell over my own feet.

“Shhh.” Manson hissed as we neared the bedrooms. “Don’t wake Lily honey.”

“Sorry.” I said, and Manson laughed, helping me onto the bed and removing my clothes in exchange for more comfortable sleepwear.

“I’m glad you started step one of the healing process with her.” Manson said as he unbuttoned his shirt and slid on a big, black t-shirt instead.

I laughed in response, my head feeling heavy against the soft pillow. I began to shiver with cold from being outside the blankets. I waited for Manson to remove his make up and remaining clothes. When he returned, the lights shut out, and suddenly I felt a lot more sober.

“What did Tony say?” I asked with a wobbly voice.

“He’s shattered.” Manson said. “Probably more so than Demi.”

I felt Manson’s warm arms encircle and lift me as the covers engulfed my body. I smiled at the feel of him holding me.

“They have to be back together Manson.” I whispered. “They love each other and people who love each other have to be together.”

“I know. But it’s okay.” Manson spoke softly to me, not wanting to hurt my feelings that were especially tender due to the alcohol. Instead of talking any further he held me and kissed my cheek, waiting for me to fall asleep.

“I love you.” I yawned, tiredness flowing through my body.

“I love you too.” Manson said from behind me. “Now go to sleep, because it’s almost five and you’ll regret it tomorrow.”

I spun around in his arms and kissed the tip of his nose, giggling into his chest. I wrapped my arms around him in a hug, and suddenly everything went black as my eyes closed and I surrendered to the desperate need for sleep, realising how much I loved Manson, how safe and happy I felt with him, realising I wanted nothing more than to be with him forever.