These Are the Fast Times

“I thought you were staying for longer,” I say, in half-disbelief. She looks at me with apologetic eyes.

“I thought I could, but…work…” she trails off and looks away, probably seeing the hurt in my eyes.

Then most of the thoughts in my mind are maliciously telling me I’ll always come second to her.

And if I don’t have a steady relationship with Lila, then what do I have going for me?

My music career is in limbo until the record comes out, and who knows what’ll happen then.

It can be hit or miss, or worse…it can be completely nothing, completely obsolete.

And then it would be back to the art store for me, while Lila’s off being successful in New York, where her mind’s been lately anyway.

It’s as if I’m always in the back of her mind, an afterthought.

The thought makes me sick and miserable.

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

The words have been caught in my throat ever since she left for New York last week, and me back to Chicago.

Just bubbling calmly in the back of my mouth.

I don’t want to feel this way; I know it not really anybody’s fault.

It’s not our fault that maybe we’re not as happy as we should be.

I hit the button on my phone, and it rings once, twice, on the other end.

“Hello?” her voice responds, and she sounds as distracted as always.

“Lila,” I say, and the words I don’t really want to say are creeping from the lump in my throat and up my tongue.

“What’s up?” she asks, and it annoys me, but I don’t completely understand why.

“I…”

I can’t say it. I can’t do it…

Can I?

“Andy, can I call you back later?” she asks, even though she’s forgotten to call me back plenty
of times recently. “I have to-”

“No,” the word pops out of my mouth before I can consider it.

“What do you mean, no?” she repeats, confused. “I just-“

“That’s the problem, Lila,” I interrupt before she can give me another excuse. It scares me how easily the words are suddenly coming. Everything I’ve been suppressing lately coming out at once.

“I...what are you saying?” she asks, still sounding confused.

I sigh inwardly, knowing I’ll most likely regret the words that are about to come out of my mouth.

“I don’t think this…we’re not...” I take a breath. “It’s not working, Lila. Can’t you tell?”

“What do you mean?” she asks, her voice faltering. I close my eyes, resting my forehead on the cold windowpane next to my bed.

I don’t even know how explain to her how much this long distance thing is making me completely miserable.

“I mean, are you ever coming back home, Li?” I ask. “For longer than a week or two?”

“You know I have school. And work,” she replies, her voice shaking in anger instead of confusion this time.

I know she has a point, but it’s not as if I can go back in time and take back what I said or change my feelings, for that matter.

I hate myself for starting to resent her.

“Yeah, yeah, and I don’t exist, right?” I retort, getting annoyed because if I have a reason to be upset with how this is turning out, then I don’t have to feel like the world’s biggest douchebag. “Fucking pathetic Butcher, doesn’t matter if you ignore him for a week, because he’s got nothing else going for him besides to wait for you to notice,” I continue with a bitterness so palpable it surprises me to realize how strongly I feel. She stays silent. “I don’t want…this, whatever this is.”

I’m miserable with her, miserable without her, and I really just can’t fucking win, can I?

But my rebellious thoughts attack me just as I thought I’d quelled my second thoughts.

Over the phone? they demand. Asshole move, Butcher.

You never deserved her, anyway, the more vile thoughts in my head point out in contempt.

And she still hasn’t said a word to defend herself.

She realizes we’re both in the wrong, her for taking me for granted, me for not being more understanding, but she doesn’t play the blame game with me.

She just hangs up the phone, leaving me miserable and alone as ever.

I’ve sabotaged myself again.

What else is new?