Status: currently in progession
Spinning
Two
It's raining.
Of course it's raining.
I turn over, pulling the covers tightly around me, staring out my bedroom window where downtown Chicago stares back at me, engrossed in a blanket of cloudy skies that mirror my mood. The events of last night are all too clear in my mind. The bar, the girl, him.
A whimper escapes my lips.
Why did I have to choose him? Why couldn't I just date a regular, quiet guy who wasn't being lusted at during every moment of his existence?
I sit up and place my legs over the side of the bed, putting my chin in my palm and picking up my phone from my floor.
32 Missed Calls
41 Text Messages
12 Voicemails
I drop the thing as if it were on fire. A shower suddenly sounds like the most appealing task in the world.
A half hour later, which turns out to be quarter past five in the morning, I'm dressed and staring at the cell phone that is endlessly vibrating on my floor.
I'm not going to answer it. There is nothing I could possibly say to him right now without breaking down in tears or in fits of profanities. I'd rather stay silent.
The vibrations stop and I find myself staring at the black object on top of the small carpet.
Then, without another rational thought, I find myself picking it up and looking through the notifications.
Carly I'm so sorry. Please call me back.
Carly you've got to call me, or text me, or anything.
Call me.
I have to explain, okay?
Let me explain it to you, baby.
The actual verbal messages that he left are no better. His voice sounds hoarse as he almost begs me to talk to him, and call him back. Already, I feel myself getting choked up. Why? Why the fuck do I need him so badly?
Then, in the middle of listening to the message, he calls again.
I can't. I just can't talk to him right now. What could he say to defend himself? It happened; he made out with a girl, even felt her up, all while he was dating me.
I close the door of the apartment behind me five minutes later. Locking the dead bolt, I slip the keys into my bag and look up.
"Hey."
I gasp and take a step back nearly falling over at the sight of Patrick standing there, leaning against the wall with his hands so casually placed in his pant pockets, "What are you doing here?" I whisper, stupidly, and my eyes already filling with tears. I'm weaker than a child on their first day of school.
"You wouldn't answer my calls," he says and his voice is still hoarse. His eyes, I note, are brimmed with redness and look slightly puffy as if he had been crying, too.
I doubt it.
"I'm sorry, Carly."
I shake my head, wanting to re-open my door and hide in my apartment, but my entire body feels limp and very, very weak.
"Can we go inside, and talk about this?"
I don't say anything partly because I don't trust my voice and partly because I have no idea what to reply.
"Carly, I really have to explain this all to you."
I clutch an arm around my stomach and see a tear fall from my eye, onto the floor, "There's nothing to explain," I manage to whisper.
He tries to move towards me but I move further away, afraid of what I might do if he touches me.
"What you saw that night looks really bad, I know but--"
I wipe a tear away, shaking my head and moving past him, "I have to go, Patrick."
He hesitates as if surprised, but turns quickly and follows me down the hall, managing to slip his hand between the closing elevator doors and enter beside me, "Car, please, let's just talk."
The doors close and I find myself lost for any idea on how to react. Instead, in my fragile female state, I put a hand over my mouth and let silent sobs consume me as I stare up and away from his face.
"Babe," comes his weak voice and suddenly his arms are around me, holding me to his chest, and I'm a goner. His familiar scent and common muscles as well as the way his hands settle around my body and the feel of his skin on mine makes me lose any motivation to escape him once more.
"I'm so, so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have kissed her, I know. I was being stupid. I am stupid. Jesus," he kisses the top of my head over and over again, moving down to my cheeks and then to my lips where he cups my face in his hands and forces me to stare into his eyes, "Forgive me, Carly. I made such a mistake and I regret it completely. I need you," his voice breaks a little and my heart stutters at the words, "I'm sorry," he whispers then and I have to press my lips to his in order to keep them from shaking so hard, "I'm so sorry."
I feel tears slipping down his cheeks, touching mine and making me want to sob harder.
"I love you, Carly. I'm so sorry I hurt you."
The elevator doors open now and I take the initiative to step forwards and lead us out of the lobby.
"Are you going to say anything?"
I keep walking until we reach his car at which point I cross my arms and wait patiently, staring at the floor.
He hurries to unlock the doors and opens the passenger side first, letting me inside. I watch him hurry around the car to his own side where he gets in and closes the door behind him.
Silence.
I swallow hard. He's staring at me carefully, waiting for me to speak. So, I take a deep breathe and close my eyes for a long moment, "What is it about me that wasn't good enough?"
Of course it's raining.
I turn over, pulling the covers tightly around me, staring out my bedroom window where downtown Chicago stares back at me, engrossed in a blanket of cloudy skies that mirror my mood. The events of last night are all too clear in my mind. The bar, the girl, him.
A whimper escapes my lips.
Why did I have to choose him? Why couldn't I just date a regular, quiet guy who wasn't being lusted at during every moment of his existence?
I sit up and place my legs over the side of the bed, putting my chin in my palm and picking up my phone from my floor.
32 Missed Calls
41 Text Messages
12 Voicemails
I drop the thing as if it were on fire. A shower suddenly sounds like the most appealing task in the world.
A half hour later, which turns out to be quarter past five in the morning, I'm dressed and staring at the cell phone that is endlessly vibrating on my floor.
I'm not going to answer it. There is nothing I could possibly say to him right now without breaking down in tears or in fits of profanities. I'd rather stay silent.
The vibrations stop and I find myself staring at the black object on top of the small carpet.
Then, without another rational thought, I find myself picking it up and looking through the notifications.
Carly I'm so sorry. Please call me back.
Carly you've got to call me, or text me, or anything.
Call me.
I have to explain, okay?
Let me explain it to you, baby.
The actual verbal messages that he left are no better. His voice sounds hoarse as he almost begs me to talk to him, and call him back. Already, I feel myself getting choked up. Why? Why the fuck do I need him so badly?
Then, in the middle of listening to the message, he calls again.
I can't. I just can't talk to him right now. What could he say to defend himself? It happened; he made out with a girl, even felt her up, all while he was dating me.
I close the door of the apartment behind me five minutes later. Locking the dead bolt, I slip the keys into my bag and look up.
"Hey."
I gasp and take a step back nearly falling over at the sight of Patrick standing there, leaning against the wall with his hands so casually placed in his pant pockets, "What are you doing here?" I whisper, stupidly, and my eyes already filling with tears. I'm weaker than a child on their first day of school.
"You wouldn't answer my calls," he says and his voice is still hoarse. His eyes, I note, are brimmed with redness and look slightly puffy as if he had been crying, too.
I doubt it.
"I'm sorry, Carly."
I shake my head, wanting to re-open my door and hide in my apartment, but my entire body feels limp and very, very weak.
"Can we go inside, and talk about this?"
I don't say anything partly because I don't trust my voice and partly because I have no idea what to reply.
"Carly, I really have to explain this all to you."
I clutch an arm around my stomach and see a tear fall from my eye, onto the floor, "There's nothing to explain," I manage to whisper.
He tries to move towards me but I move further away, afraid of what I might do if he touches me.
"What you saw that night looks really bad, I know but--"
I wipe a tear away, shaking my head and moving past him, "I have to go, Patrick."
He hesitates as if surprised, but turns quickly and follows me down the hall, managing to slip his hand between the closing elevator doors and enter beside me, "Car, please, let's just talk."
The doors close and I find myself lost for any idea on how to react. Instead, in my fragile female state, I put a hand over my mouth and let silent sobs consume me as I stare up and away from his face.
"Babe," comes his weak voice and suddenly his arms are around me, holding me to his chest, and I'm a goner. His familiar scent and common muscles as well as the way his hands settle around my body and the feel of his skin on mine makes me lose any motivation to escape him once more.
"I'm so, so sorry, baby. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have kissed her, I know. I was being stupid. I am stupid. Jesus," he kisses the top of my head over and over again, moving down to my cheeks and then to my lips where he cups my face in his hands and forces me to stare into his eyes, "Forgive me, Carly. I made such a mistake and I regret it completely. I need you," his voice breaks a little and my heart stutters at the words, "I'm sorry," he whispers then and I have to press my lips to his in order to keep them from shaking so hard, "I'm so sorry."
I feel tears slipping down his cheeks, touching mine and making me want to sob harder.
"I love you, Carly. I'm so sorry I hurt you."
The elevator doors open now and I take the initiative to step forwards and lead us out of the lobby.
"Are you going to say anything?"
I keep walking until we reach his car at which point I cross my arms and wait patiently, staring at the floor.
He hurries to unlock the doors and opens the passenger side first, letting me inside. I watch him hurry around the car to his own side where he gets in and closes the door behind him.
Silence.
I swallow hard. He's staring at me carefully, waiting for me to speak. So, I take a deep breathe and close my eyes for a long moment, "What is it about me that wasn't good enough?"