Blurred Vision
Blurred Vision
When I met Billie, I wasn't wearing my glasses. That was just fine for me. I could see perfectly well how beautiful he was. How bright his eyes were, how sincere his smile. And I felt the way we fit together when he hugged me and the way his chest moved when he laughed. Let's face it. I was in love at that first blurry sight. He laughed that laugh again when he saw me put my glasses on, and it made my cheeks burn, and I never put them on again. He wasn't being mean. I just couldn't take it.
So that's how these years have gone. I look with my blurred vision at my gorgeous husband and my two beautiful kids, and I hold them all close so that the lines stay clear and defined, and they don't disappear into the background. And I pretend that my blurred vision doesn't let me see the way my sons grow taller and more grown up by the minute... or the way my husband looks at his best friend.
What kind of life is that? Pretending every single day you don't realize that that look in his eyes is the same one he uses for you. Or that you don't notice the way their hands touch from time to time or hear him whispering secret "I love you"'s in the man's ear. That you can't read the texts on your husband's phone sent to Mike and ending, just like ones to you, in "All my love."
It breaks you down. I keep trying to see myself as beautiful, and I melt into the songs he writes and the words he says just trying because let's face it, Mike is confident in what he has. Apparently, Billie likes that. He's said he likes it about me, and sometimes that makes me want to laugh because if he liked it that much, he probably wouldn't need to go off with his best friend at all. But I'm not enough.
Why? That's what I've been asking since we met. Why? Why does he betray me? Why does he go off with his best friend? Why do I let him? Why don't I leave?
God, I love him too much.
"Hey, baby." I look up. I'd recognize my husband's green eyes anywhere. He's curious. He's concerned. He's I-don't-know-what, but he's here, and he's beautiful, and I love him. A kiss on the cheek. "You okay?"
I smile. He's said I have a pretty smile before. "Fine." I look at him. Those jeans, that shirt. Band practice again or whatever else he gets up to. My smile fades. "You going somewhere?"
"Emergency band practice. I've got this new song, and I really want to work on it."
"Billie..." Oh, please don't go. Don't leave me again. Why aren't I enough for you? "It's like, 7:30."
"I know, but I don't want to lose this." He leans forward and kisses me. My heart beats faster, and fireworks erupt everywhere. I don't need sight to know that this feels right, and I kiss him deeper to keep him around longer, but he pulls away again. "I'll see you later tonight, okay?"
"Yeah, I guess." Okay. Yeah, it's okay if you see me later, better if you still see me five minutes from now, and five years from now, and every day until the end of time if you just stay away from Mike. Just one night for me, Billie. I kiss him again. "I love you."
A smile. A beautiful, heart-melting smile. "I love you too. Bye."
And he turns, and the lines around him blur as he walks towards the door, off to see his best friend again, to leave me home alone, to not come back until late when he sneaks into bed with already-touseled hair to wrap his tattooed arm around me and kiss my cheek, still thinking I'm asleep, and in the darkness, I'll barely make out the contours of his face and the colour of his eyes. He'll kiss me, and it'll be beautiful, and I'll feel at home in his arms, and I'll pretend I don't see the hickey on his neck as I settle into him.
And what do I see now? Just myself in a mirror, clear through these glasses which I haven't put on in years for fear that my cheeks will turn red again under Billie's soft green gaze. I'm much shorter than Mike. I'm not as thin as he is. My hair isn't soft. My fingers aren't calloused or long. My eyes aren't bright and blue. I'm just Adrienne. Billie's pretty Adrienne, complete opposite to the chiseled form of my husband's other love, something I can never be. Something Billie can never be satisfied with. I heave a little sob. Even through my glasses, the image in the mirror starts to blur.
So that's how these years have gone. I look with my blurred vision at my gorgeous husband and my two beautiful kids, and I hold them all close so that the lines stay clear and defined, and they don't disappear into the background. And I pretend that my blurred vision doesn't let me see the way my sons grow taller and more grown up by the minute... or the way my husband looks at his best friend.
What kind of life is that? Pretending every single day you don't realize that that look in his eyes is the same one he uses for you. Or that you don't notice the way their hands touch from time to time or hear him whispering secret "I love you"'s in the man's ear. That you can't read the texts on your husband's phone sent to Mike and ending, just like ones to you, in "All my love."
It breaks you down. I keep trying to see myself as beautiful, and I melt into the songs he writes and the words he says just trying because let's face it, Mike is confident in what he has. Apparently, Billie likes that. He's said he likes it about me, and sometimes that makes me want to laugh because if he liked it that much, he probably wouldn't need to go off with his best friend at all. But I'm not enough.
Why? That's what I've been asking since we met. Why? Why does he betray me? Why does he go off with his best friend? Why do I let him? Why don't I leave?
God, I love him too much.
"Hey, baby." I look up. I'd recognize my husband's green eyes anywhere. He's curious. He's concerned. He's I-don't-know-what, but he's here, and he's beautiful, and I love him. A kiss on the cheek. "You okay?"
I smile. He's said I have a pretty smile before. "Fine." I look at him. Those jeans, that shirt. Band practice again or whatever else he gets up to. My smile fades. "You going somewhere?"
"Emergency band practice. I've got this new song, and I really want to work on it."
"Billie..." Oh, please don't go. Don't leave me again. Why aren't I enough for you? "It's like, 7:30."
"I know, but I don't want to lose this." He leans forward and kisses me. My heart beats faster, and fireworks erupt everywhere. I don't need sight to know that this feels right, and I kiss him deeper to keep him around longer, but he pulls away again. "I'll see you later tonight, okay?"
"Yeah, I guess." Okay. Yeah, it's okay if you see me later, better if you still see me five minutes from now, and five years from now, and every day until the end of time if you just stay away from Mike. Just one night for me, Billie. I kiss him again. "I love you."
A smile. A beautiful, heart-melting smile. "I love you too. Bye."
And he turns, and the lines around him blur as he walks towards the door, off to see his best friend again, to leave me home alone, to not come back until late when he sneaks into bed with already-touseled hair to wrap his tattooed arm around me and kiss my cheek, still thinking I'm asleep, and in the darkness, I'll barely make out the contours of his face and the colour of his eyes. He'll kiss me, and it'll be beautiful, and I'll feel at home in his arms, and I'll pretend I don't see the hickey on his neck as I settle into him.
And what do I see now? Just myself in a mirror, clear through these glasses which I haven't put on in years for fear that my cheeks will turn red again under Billie's soft green gaze. I'm much shorter than Mike. I'm not as thin as he is. My hair isn't soft. My fingers aren't calloused or long. My eyes aren't bright and blue. I'm just Adrienne. Billie's pretty Adrienne, complete opposite to the chiseled form of my husband's other love, something I can never be. Something Billie can never be satisfied with. I heave a little sob. Even through my glasses, the image in the mirror starts to blur.