My Dinosaur Life

”I wonder why she’s so fragile, and I wonder why she never smiles. She’s the saddest music in the world tonight.”

(Him)

For the record, I tried ignoring all the indicators.

The distance, half-hearted phone calls, and emotionless emails.

I know she’s bored with me.

She doesn’t smile anymore.

Maybe it’s my fault.

Maybe it’s that I can’t make her smile like I used to.

My help usually makes everything worse, so I should have seen this coming.

I get home, and she’s lying on the tile of the bathroom, eyes closed but heart still beating, bottle of pills loosely clenched in her fingers.

All she’s done, and all I can think about is how her bright blonde hair frames her head perfectly so that she still looks angelic even while my heart is pounding erratically in my ears.

Why didn’t I see this coming?

Even though it’s past ten am, I pick her up and carry her to bed.

I lie there next to her for the best part of the day, listening to her move and groan in her sleep until I join her in her coma.

When I wake up, it’s three pm, and she’s still tossing and turning and sighing.

Little beads of sweat appear on her hot forehead, and I know what she’s dreaming about.

A short while later, she kicks the blankets off in a fit of fever and begins thrashing about. I grab her wrists to prevent her from rolling off the bed.

And that’s when it hits me like a hurricane.

All I’ve wanted to do is help her, but I can’t even help myself.

I can’t take care of her anymore.

I can barely take care of myself.

It’s shit, but it’s true.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

All this time, I’d been afraid of her leaving me, but God or Fate or whatever must like to mess with my sense of irony, because something always manages to get fucked up.

She sits at the kitchen table, across from me, rubbing her eyes and resting her head on the table.

Identical mugs of coffee sit in front of the both of us. Hers black as it can be, and mine loaded up with sugar and cream but untouched.

“Annie,” I say, quietly. Cautious.

She doesn’t say anything, and her eyes are closed.

“Annie,” I repeat, louder. She lifts her head to look at me.

Her dark eyes are dull, distracted.

“I need to get away for a little while. I can’t…be here.”

She stares at me, and I think I see a flash of sadness in the gloomy planets that are her eyes.

“I know what you’re doing,” she says, and her voice is hard.

I don’t say anything. I look down and continue to mix my coffee that I haven’t even touched.

She stands up.

“Say it.”

My throat is suddenly dry, and I feel sick.

“If you mean it, say it.”

“You’re making this harder than it needs to be,” I finally say, my insides a jumble of confusion. I can’t tell if I’m sad, angry, frustrated, or annoyed. Maybe a little of it all.

She crosses her arms, and suddenly her eyes have their old fire back, if only for a little while.

“I can’t do this anymore. I’m sorry.”

“I know,” she replies, and the fire is gone. “I won’t be here when you get back,” she supplies. She turns to leave the room.

“I know,” I echo back softly, but she doesn’t hear.

I pack enough clothes for a week, just in case, while she’s in the shower.

I scribble down a pathetic letter before I leave.

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

Annie.

You’re no good for me, and I’m even worse for you.

Please tell me you see what we’re doing to each other.

I want to help so badly, but we can’t make each other change.

Do you know why?

Because I don’t.

I can’t be a part of the cycle anymore.

Us.

You know what I mean.

You always do.

I’m sorry.

Goodnight, good luck.

Take my words and think them over.

We'll talk it over after I’ve had some time alone.

So long, farewell.

Hope it all works in your favor.

I shouldn’t love you,

But love,

Justin

-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-

I’ve spent the past 6 days in my parent’s lake house at Minnetonka.

The only person I’ve talked to is Josh.

The only thing I could bring myself to do is write.

Notebooks filled with my scribbled writing lying around the place.

And I’m miserable.

The weather’s shitty, so it was stupid of me to drive up here in the first place, but I had nowhere else to go. It’s rained nonstop since I got here.

I don’t know how many hours I’ve spent staring out into the black lake, thinking.

Wondering what happens next.

Thinking how I’ve failed.

The worst part is knowing that she brought this on me.

It’s about her again, even when – no, especially when - she doesn’t know it. She’s the victim, even when she’s at fault.

It’s like she’s the star of the Annie show, and the rest of the world are her minor characters.

The frontman complex, only in her case, it’s not all in her head.

And I don’t know how I came to be the sidekick in my own life story.

When I get back home, I’m inexplicably angry.

Angry at her, angry at myself, angry at everyone.

And angry at Josh when I open the cabinet above my refrigerator to discover that my secret alcohol stash is gone.

He knows me too well.

I stomp over to the sofa and kick it as hard as I can before collapsing face first onto it.

My toe throbs and I feel more pathetic than I did five seconds ago.

I’m not sure how long it is when I hear the door creak open, but I ignore it.

“I’m sorry,” Josh’s voice informs me. “About the booze,” he clarifies.

“I miss her,” I choke out, but I’m not sure he understands me. My face is still pressed into the sofa cushions, pushing my glasses against my eyes. I raise my head to look at him. His expression is grim but stern in that Josh way that I can tell he wants to lecture the hell out of me.

“It’s for the best,” he supplies, and I’m not sure if he’s still talking about my absent stash or not.

“Why did I do it?” I groan, burying my face back in the dirty cushions.

“She cheated on you,” he reminds me, giving me reasonable reason for my actions.

“I didn’t care,” I realize. “I should have, but I didn’t fucking care, Josh.”

“You’re not good for each other,” he reminds me. The knot in my throat is choking me by now.

“I know.”

I think this might be the end.