Saying Those Things

I looked up as the front door swung open. Here he was again, walking in drunk. I sighed and shook my head. This was just going to be another repeat. He stumbled into the kitchen.
“Heeeeyy,” he slurred as he came over to me and tried to kiss me. I turned my head as his lips caught my cheek. “Oh, come on,” he said and stood straight again. I sighed again and said,
“Brennan, sit. We need to talk.” He raised an eyebrow at me and laughed. I sighed again, only this time, the anger was oh so apparent.
“Why?” His answer was infuriating me.
“Because I want to talk to you, so stop acting like a fucking child and sit down.” The smile on his face slowly dissolved into a smirk as he plopped onto the chair across the kitchen table.
“What?” I took a deep breath as silence filled the room for just a moment. The calm before the storm.
“Brennan, I don’t know if I can handle this anymore.” The smirk disappeared just as quickly as it formed. He dropped his keys onto the kitchen table. I looked down at my hands and awaited his inquiry.
“Handle what? Me?” I knew he was scrambling to become sober, but his body wouldn’t- couldn’t let him.
“I can’t take the bullshit anymore,” He cut me off.
“What bullshit? What are you talking about?” I could hear the slightest bit of anger, yet the biggest bit of desperation.
“You coming home drunk, your friends trashing the house, treating me like shit, I can’t take it anymore.” My voice was surprisingly calm, an achievement which I thought I couldn’t have ever reached.
“No, No. I can change, I’ll talk to them,” I cut him off this time.
“Brennan, It’s too late for that.” I stood up and was walking to the door to grab my suitcase, something which he had neglected to notice when he walked in.
“No, no! Please!” He stood and grabbed my arm. A feeling of sadness washed over me, desperation, loneliness. “I can fix this! Please!” I bit my lip, my composure slipping with every second of time flying past us. I pulled my arm from his grasp and ignored his pleas.
“Goddamnit, why won’t you listen to me?” The anger was rising in his voice. Before I could grab my suitcase, he grabbed my arm again. “Please, don’t do this.”
I turned to look at him. His eyes were red and droopy from the drinking. His hair was disheveled; there was lipstick on his shirt collar. Was it mine? Who knows anymore.
I inhaled deeply and shook my head.
“I have to, Brennan,” my voice was slowly rising in volume, something I wish I wouldn’t have done. My composure was gone. “I have to!” A tear spilled from my eye.
“Why? You don’t have to do this! I can fix this and it will all be better and we can get married,” the words that streamed out of his mouth put my head in query. He wants to marry me?
“Brennan,” my voice was low and barely caught his attention underneath his heavy language. He didn’t acknowledge me. He continued.
“And we can have kids and watch them grow up together and,” My breaking point was at it’s reach.
“Because I don’t love you anymore! Because I don’t LOVE you anymore.” Tears trickled freely from my eyes as his grasp was loosened and then removed from my arm. His hand fell to his side. I inhaled deeply.
“Brennan, I don’t know if you were just saying those things to make me stay, but it’s not going to work. You and I both know that we are completely different people, so why deny that you and I lead different lives? I’m sorry.” There was silence as I watched him, now a broken soul, with tears flowing freely, take a small black box out of his pocket.
His voice was low, and broken. His head hung as he twirled the box in his hands.
“But, I wasn’t just saying those things.”