Wish You Were Here

The ice clinked against the glass as I raised it to my lips. I’d been drinking steadily for the past hour and the noise was starting to annoy me. Every time I felt like I was about to finally figure things out, the clink, clank would distract me. What ever epiphany I might have been close to floated away.

Maybe it wasn’t the ice’s fault, maybe it was the stream of alcohol. There was a possibly that it wasn’t helping.

I took another drink A wave of comforting, numbing warmth washed over me.

But it damn sure wasn’t hurting anything.

I looked up to find the bartender in front of me. He gestured to my, now empty, glass.

“Please.” I slid the glass towards him. “No ice this time.”

I’d come to the bar to be alone in a way that didn’t involve me actually being alone. I wasn’t sure I understood my own reasoning but, by that point, it seemed pointless to leave. The booze was good, no one seemed inclined to make small talk, and the bartender exhibited a charming disregard for smoking laws. All things considered, it was as good a place as any to be.

A new glass made its way to me. The bartender gave me a sympathetic look before moving on to help someone else.

I couldn’t help but wonder how shitty I must have looked to warrant that. Honestly, it did nothing for my already wavering self-esteem.

Taking another drink, I thought about what he’d said to me.

”You always fucking think everything to death. I don’t understand why you have to make everything so difficult.”

Was he right? I supposed it was a possibility. But then he always said I was difficult when I didn’t go along with something. Although he did have a point, it would have been easier to just give in and do what ever, be whoever, it was he wanted.

”Why have you been such a fucking bitch lately?”

It would have taken me all night to answer that question. Things would have been said that could never be unsaid. I wasn’t sure if either of us was ready for that.

Instead, I’d taken the coward’s way and left. I couldn’t stay there and listen to him say things, all the while biting back the desire to tell him all the things I kept inside. A tactical retreat, that’s how I liked to think of it.

The funny thing was, it wasn’t even really an argument. Not by our standards. But I just hadn’t been in the mood to make conversation that, at some point, had the potential to turn into an argument. We’d been at each other’s throats all week. I was tired.

So I left. And there I was, slowly drowning my sorrows. Or fears. Whatever you wanted to call them, I was doing my best to get them to shut up for a night.

But as so often happens with plans, things weren’t going the way I’d hoped. I was turning into a thoughtful, dare I day, melancholy drunk.

My head sank to the bar. Apparently I couldn’t even drink right. I so needed to get my shit together.

The air shifted as someone sat near me. I didn’t bother to look up. I could feel them looking at me. I ignored the feeling. Eye contact would just encourage whoever it was to talk to me.

I wondered if I could build a time machine and go back to stop things from getting to this point. The truly sad part was I wasn’t even sure when that point was. I couldn’t say this was the beginning of the end. Maybe the whole thing had been a build up to tragedy.

He was right about one thing. I certainly could be dramatic.

With a deep sigh I finally sat up. Moping on a bar wasn’t going to accomplish anything.

I pulled a cigarette from the pack beside me and searched my pockets for my lighter.

Before I could find it, a hand appeared in front of me. I moved the end towards the flame, inhaling until the end burned orange.

I nodded in thanks. Curiosity forced my eyes up the arm the hand belonged to. I followed the tattoos until I finally made it up to a face that would have been very handsome if he smiled. But it was set in a scowl I was sure was meant to look arrogant. It would have been convincing had I not felt the waves of sadness coming from him. His dark hair fell forward a little, almost like it was trying to hide the matching pain in his green eyes.

They were beautiful eyes.

He returned to his seat. I didn’t ask him what was wrong. I had enough to worry about without adding the unhappiness of some stranger to the list. Besides, it was obvious that he was trying very hard to hide his feelings. I wasn’t sure he would appreciate a stranger calling him out on it. A part of me wanted to help, though. I wasn’t even sure why.

I was fairly certain the only reason I could even pick up on it was because I felt the same. The three words I desperately wanted to say repeated over and over in my head.

I’m not happy.

What started as a whisper turned into a scream. And I couldn’t stop it.

My head turned sharply as I felt someone touch my cheek. The man looked just as surprised that he’d touched me as I was that he’d done it. His fingertips were wet. I hadn’t even realized that I’d been crying.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, handing me a napkin. “I shouldn’t have just reached over here like that. But I saw you crying and…” He trailed off. It was obvious he had no explanation for his actions. “Are you okay?”

I just nodded. I was afraid if I opened my mouth, I’d just end up sobbing. That was the last thing I needed.

“No offense but you don’t look okay. Unless I’m missing something and those are tears of happiness.”

Wiping my face, I said, “Look, I appreciate your concern. I really do. But I just don’t feel like opening myself up to a stranger in a bar. I’ll be fine, I just need some time to myself.”

His sharp green eyes followed me as I took a drag from the cigarette. I knew he wanted to say something. He seemed to be having a mental argument with himself about it. He chewed his lips, the piercing flashed in the bar lights. Finally, he took a deep breath.

“I don’t make a habit of airing my personal life to random people either. You’re obviously upset about something and I haven’t had the best night. So maybe we can help each other out. I’ll listen to you complain and you can listen to me.” His full lips turned up in something close to a smile.

I raised my glass. “I promised my mother I wouldn’t talk to strangers.” My voice echoed in the glass as I took a drink.

He chuckled. “Who better than a stranger? If I make a judgment about something you say, who cares? You’ll never have to see me again. We can be honest with each other in a way we can’t with the people we know. We’re both neutral parties that can give an unbiased opinion on what the other has to say.” He finished his speech with a triumphant drink.

I narrowed my eyes and thought it over. He might have had a point. It wasn’t like he would have any reason to care what I ultimately decided to do. And maybe he could offer me some insight.

“Alright,” I agreed slowly. “My name is Lena.”

“Zacky.” He held out his hand, which I took. “Do you want to go first?”

No, I really didn’t. I was having second thoughts about the whole thing. My problems weren’t really that big of a deal. They would sound stupid to someone else.

“Just talk. Whatever it is that’s bothering you is enough to make you drink alone in a bar. That’s not even counting the whole crying thing. Its not going to sound stupid.”

I took a deep breath. “I feel like I’ve traded too much of my life for comfort.”

Zacky’s look clearly said he didn’t quite understand.

“Not like material comfort or anything like that. The comfort of the known. I continue to deal and put up with things I don’t like because…” It was my turn to trail off.

“Because you’re afraid of what life would be like without those things,” he finished.

I looked at him, really looked at him. “That’s right. I’ve been with my boyfriend for five years. No matter how much he annoys me or what he says, I know he’ll be there. Eventually, you know, because his clothes are there,” I laughed. “Lately, I’ve been thinking, how much more can I handle? I feel like I’m just there.”

He lit a cigarette of his own. “What makes you think that?”

I looked away. It wasn’t that it was stupid, it was just embarrassing. “He doesn’t look at me. Sometimes I feel like I could do naked jumping jacks in front of him and he’d barely register it. I constantly feel like he’d looking through me. Maybe we’ve been together so long that it just doesn’t matter.” I shrugged. “We hardly ever… let’s just say we’re more like friends that live together and cuddle sometimes. We’re like two very different people whose lives happen to intersect.”

“So what drove you out here?”

“I don’t know. I was looking at him and thinking about what my life would be like years from now.” I wasn’t looking at Zacky anymore, I was fixed on some invisible point beside him. “Would we still be the way we are now? Never moving forward, never… doing anything. Maybe its my fault. I’ve tried to be a good girlfriend. I never tell him he can’t do something, I don’t question things that almost any other girlfriend would. I’ve tried to support him in the things he decides to do. I don’t think any of this is making sense.”

“You’re doing fine, I can see what you’re saying. You’re saying that you give and he takes.” He wasn’t looking at me either. I had a feeling we were both lost in our own thoughts.

“I don’t want to make it sound like he’s never there for me. He’s helped me through some very hard times-”

He interrupted me, “Just because you’re there for the hard times doesn’t excuse you from the other times. Then there’s nothing except what’s based on sadness. So what do you think the future will be like?”

“I think it will be filled with me constantly giving in and not getting laid.” I tried to make it sound light but I failed. “Its like those unruly children on talk shows. The parents suddenly decide that they want to try to discipline the kids and it doesn’t work. Then they wonder why. Its because you can’t just allow someone to behave a certain way, then expect them to just change. I take responsibility for a lot of the problems. Maybe I tried too hard to be perfect.”

“Why do you think you have to be perfect?” Zacky gestured for two more drinks. “You do know that no one’s perfect, right?”

“When I was younger, I thought that if you were pretty enough, good enough, no one would leave you. I know that’s not true but I guess I’ve held on to part of it. I didn’t want to give him a reason to leave or want to be with someone else. That hasn’t worked exactly the way I planned. I‘m fairly certain he doesn‘t just want to be with someone else. Its probably happening on a fairly regular basis.” I could see an answering pain in his eyes. “So I try and try but I’ve allowed him to just stay the same. He points out all the things that are wrong with me but ignores all his own flaws.

“And I put up with it because… I suppose I’m afraid of what else life holds. I guess it’s a devil you know sort of thing. It all goes back to guilt. I would feel bad about leaving him by himself. I’d miss the good times we have together. There are just so many reasons.” I sighed.

“I can understand the guilt but are you really willing to trade the rest of your life for some cold comforts? Do you want to continuously take the back seat to someone when you could shine on your own? It sounds to me like you’ve convinced yourself that you need the things he offers you but you don’t. You’ve traded a wide open world for some tiny piece of hell thinly disguised as heaven.”

I smiled humorlessly. “Those were some pretty words. I don’t know if its that easy. I’ve been… this for so long, I don’t remember who I was before.”

‘Who were you before?” I could swear, he looked like he was really interested in the answer. I couldn’t remember the last time I talked to a man that even remotely pretended to listen. “And would it really be that hard to get that woman back?”

He was making me question myself. I thought we were just going to talk. “I was fun, I guess. I wasn’t always worried about what someone thought about the things I said. Or did. Now I find myself getting chastised like a child if I embarrass him in public or don’t do the right things. Look pretty but don’t talk too much. Maybe I’m making that sound worse than it is.”

“Stop censoring yourself. I don’t know the guy so its not like I’m going to tell him how you feel. Now tell me what you really think about him.”

“Fine.” I sat up a little straighter. “I love him but I think he’s self-absorbed and narcissistic. He wants what he wants and I had better give in. I’m a difficult bitch when I don’t just do as he says. He makes me feel unwanted and unattractive. I feel like I’m a disposable part of his life, that’s only there when he needs me. I think he loves me but his definition of love is pretty limited.”

“There, finally! How do you feel?” he asked.

“A little better. Thanks,” I smiled. “So how long have you and your girlfriend been together?”

“What makes you think that’s my problem?” He pushed a shot in front of me. We clinked glasses and took them. “It could be work or family or a hundred other things. It doesn’t have to be a girl.”

I gave him a look. “Seriously? I just told you about my fucked up relationship and you don’t think I can tell when someone else is going through something similar? I can practically smell it on you. You made me embarrass myself, now its your turn.”

“Three years,” he sighed. “Its funny, people always say they accept you for who you are. Then they immediately try to change you. Not the bad parts. You should want to change those to become better for the person you’re with. I mean the little things. I can relate to the whole difficult-if-you’re-not-doing-as-I-command thing. She wants me to be a walking credit card with no real opinions of my own. But if I try to bring that up, she turns everything around on me. Nothing I do is good enough, I’m never there for her, a million fucking things that she attempts to use to turn the blame away from her.

“And the sad thing is, it works. She has this way of making me feel inadequate. I start to question myself and I end up giving in to whatever she wants. I’m an idiot where she’s concerned.”

I nodded in understanding. I certainly knew how he felt. “And then you hate yourself because you’ve started the whole cycle over again. The other person is happy while your left miserable.”

“Exactly. I try to leave and she looks at me with those big blue eyes and I feel like an asshole. This bar is usually as far I get when I walk out. She calls, crying, and I cave.”

We fell into silence, both lost in our own thoughts. The bartender appeared as if by magic. There were four more shots in front of us.

“On the house, guys. It looks like you’re both having a pretty rough night.”

“Thanks,” we both said.

“I wonder,” I started, picking up one of the shots, “Is it possible to just run away? I think about it all the time. I picture myself just leaving, starting a new life somewhere else.”

“Is running away ever the answer?” He looked at me intently. I wondered if he was thinking the same thing.

“No but there’s a first time for everything.” I took the shot. The weight of the day settled on me. Hell, the weight of the months, years that had passed. “I don’t want all the time we’ve spent to be wasted. I want to wake up one day and have things just be better.”

He didn’t say anything for a while. “You and I both know things don’t work that way.”

“I just want him to hold me and tell me that I mean something to him. That he couldn’t live without me. The other night, he caught me crying in bed. He asked me what was wrong but I didn’t want to tell him. Instead I asked him to come hold me. I had to ask him three times. I want to know that I mean enough to him that I shouldn’t have to ask, that he would just come to me and comfort me without me having to practically beg for it.”

“That isn’t much to ask. If you two were meant to be together, he should have done it on his own. I’m not trying to make things worse or anything but it sounds pretty fucked up.”

“Is your girlfriend there when you need her?”

I could tell he didn’t want to answer. That alone was enough of an answer for me. “I suppose, when its convenient for her. Nothing that bothers me could be as important as her hair or what some other girl said about her. Jesus, how fucking sad are we?”

“Pretty fucking sad,” I whispered and took my last shot.

It was time to go home. But I didn’t want to. I didn’t want to face him after all the things I’d admitted out loud. I felt like a fool. I was a fool. I could fell the tears start to fall again. Whether it was the alcohol or my own damned inability to act, I didn’t wipe them away.

Zacky’s hand came up again to wipe them away. I didn’t stop him and he didn’t pull away. His eyes were dark with pain. I wondered what they would look like when he laughed. I wondered what his laugh sounded like.

I knew that line of thinking was dangerous. We may have shared secrets, feelings, but that didn’t make us friends. Or anything more. At that moment, though, I didn’t care. His hand on my face was the best feeling I’d had in months. He’d listened to me, made me feel like my thoughts were important.

The look on his face told me he felt the same.

We’d both been taken for granted. Neither of us knew what to do about it. Or, rather, we did but we lacked the strength to do what needed to be done. For a night, maybe we could find strength with each other.

My eyes wandered down to his lush lips. He didn’t hesitate to move closer. Our lips met, lightly gliding against each other’s. It felt like we were waiting for some sign. Maybe we expected someone to stop us, to take away our moment of freedom, of happiness.

But the sign didn’t come. The kiss deepened. I felt the rush of something new. I wanted to believe that was all. It wasn’t.

We left the bar and made our way to a nearby hotel. Neither of us said a word as we checked in and made our way to the room. Words meant thought. We’d had enough of that. The time for thinking had past. This had nothing to do with my boyfriend, his girlfriend, or the rest of the world. Maybe it wasn’t right but it felt that way when he closed the door behind him.

His arms wrapped around me, pulling me close. I sighed at the feeling of his lips moving down my neck, of his hands moving under my shirt.

It wasn’t just the physical pleasure. It felt good to know that someone wanted me. That I hadn’t had to face rejection yet again from someone I cared about. Zacky wanted me, even after I’d talked to him. He didn’t think I was stupid or irrational. I wanted that. No, I needed it.

I don’t remember either of us getting undressed but we were suddenly on the bed, naked in each other’s arms. The feeling of his skin against mine, his lips rolling over my body, made me light headed. I grasped his dark hair as his tongue flicked against me. My breath came in gasps.

By the time he made his way back up my body, he was breathing hard. I wrapped my arms around his neck. He never once looked away as he slid himself inside me. Our eyes stayed locked as he started to move. My hips moved with him.

I wasn’t sure if we were taking or giving. I knew we wanted to prove to someone else that we were worthy of wanting, of receiving, the pleasure we shared. But we were both so desperate to feel.

“Lena,” he whispered against my skin. My body clenched and tightened. He never said my name during sex. “You’re amazing.”

I moaned in response. I wanted to say something, anything, to make him feel the same. “Only a fool would risk loosing this.”

He closed his eyes and groaned as he moved deeper. I wanted more. I wanted to take, and give, everything I could while I had him. Something about him made me loose control. It had been so long since I’d felt anything like it.

I rolled him, moving to straddle his hips. He sat up and lowered his head to meet my lips. We moved like that, locked in each other’s arms. He nipped at my neck, licking it to soothe the pain. I rolled my hips faster. I was so close.

“Zacky,” I moaned.

The world stopped as I came. Nothing, no one, mattered. He held me close as he joined me. And, for a few precious seconds, we were free.

We spent the next two hours wrapped in each other. I drank him in, every sweet world and gentle caress. I tried to give him the same. To let him know he was worthy, that he was so much more than she convinced him he was.

I laid in his arms. His breath stirred my hair. “Are you going to leave him?”

The silence in the room hung heavy. “I don’t know,” I said, softly.

“I don’t either,” he answered my unasked question.

We both knew we needed to do. There was so much more out there. I didn’t know if it would involve being together but that didn’t matter at that moment.

Finally, when it could be put off no longer, we got dressed.

“Thank you,” I smiled.

He kissed me softly. The kiss was long and lingering. We held tightly to each other. His lips were against my ear when he spoke. “Thank you too.”

We clung to each other, neither willing to face reality again. We were two lost souls, going through the motions year after year. Trapped in a cage of our own making. We both knew what we’d traded for the happiness of another. But as long as we held on to each other, we could imagine what it would be like if we hadn’t. That the fears we shared weren’t so impossible to fight.

Later that night, as I laid in bed beside my boyfriend, I thought about that happiness. And I found myself wishing he was there. As I drifted off to sleep, I wondered if he felt the same.

Maybe if we ever meet again, we will have given up the same old ground. Maybe we’d be ready to move on to something new.