Almost Crying
Chapter Eight
Chapter Eight
A month after the last time I saw him, I’m practically a zombie. I have permanent rings under my eyes from lack of sleep and tear-stained cheeks from too much crying. I can’t help but cry when I imagine him dead in a million different places for a million different reasons. I picture him suffering, or his body never being found.
I have this dreadful thought that I’ll never see him again, and that the last thing I said to him was that he needed new shoes.
I’m waiting up for him, just like every other night. The TV’s on, but I’m paying no attention to it. I’m just starting to nod off when I hear a knock at my door.
I jump up and run to it, hoping it wasn’t just my imagination. I throw the door open with some much force that the doorknob smashes a hole in the wall, but I’ll worry about that later.
It’s him, standing in front of me, eyes glazed over and reeking of alcohol. He grins goofily at me and stumbles inside, only to trip after taking two steps.
I grab him before he can fall. “Easy there,” I say, trying to help him stand on his own. He just rests all his weight on me.
“Hmm, I missed you,” he mumbles, planting a sloppy kiss on my cheek.
“I missed you too,” I tell him, wiping his saliva off my face. “Where have you been all month?”
“Around.” He nuzzled my neck, inhaling my scent.
“I thought you might’ve been dead.
He laughs hollowly. The sound nearly breaks my heart. “Not dead.”
“Why did you quit your job?” I ask, hugging him tighter.
“’S pointless,” he slurs, scowling. “Wasn’t making any difference there.”
I frown and rub his back. “You should’ve called me, Gee… Let me know you were alright.”
He sighs and I wrinkle my nose as the smell of his breath hits my nostrils. “It got too hard… seeing you.” His body tenses and I look up at his face, which had paled even more than it was before.
“Gee? What is it?”
A month after the last time I saw him, I’m practically a zombie. I have permanent rings under my eyes from lack of sleep and tear-stained cheeks from too much crying. I can’t help but cry when I imagine him dead in a million different places for a million different reasons. I picture him suffering, or his body never being found.
I have this dreadful thought that I’ll never see him again, and that the last thing I said to him was that he needed new shoes.
I’m waiting up for him, just like every other night. The TV’s on, but I’m paying no attention to it. I’m just starting to nod off when I hear a knock at my door.
I jump up and run to it, hoping it wasn’t just my imagination. I throw the door open with some much force that the doorknob smashes a hole in the wall, but I’ll worry about that later.
It’s him, standing in front of me, eyes glazed over and reeking of alcohol. He grins goofily at me and stumbles inside, only to trip after taking two steps.
I grab him before he can fall. “Easy there,” I say, trying to help him stand on his own. He just rests all his weight on me.
“Hmm, I missed you,” he mumbles, planting a sloppy kiss on my cheek.
“I missed you too,” I tell him, wiping his saliva off my face. “Where have you been all month?”
“Around.” He nuzzled my neck, inhaling my scent.
“I thought you might’ve been dead.
He laughs hollowly. The sound nearly breaks my heart. “Not dead.”
“Why did you quit your job?” I ask, hugging him tighter.
“’S pointless,” he slurs, scowling. “Wasn’t making any difference there.”
I frown and rub his back. “You should’ve called me, Gee… Let me know you were alright.”
He sighs and I wrinkle my nose as the smell of his breath hits my nostrils. “It got too hard… seeing you.” His body tenses and I look up at his face, which had paled even more than it was before.
“Gee? What is it?”