Status: NaNoWriMo - 21,112 words.
Exits and Entrances
thomas shannon.
I can’t believe what I had just basically screamed in your face, and most of all, I can hardly believe you took it. I thought you were stronger than that.
Another Monday night, Lillian’s full due to Monday night football and the old drunks requiring more drinks. Eyes darkened and conversations both whispered and yelled. You always had a knack for disappearing into crowds.
I was piecing it all together. You were depressed, you were lost, and you needed me. Sure, I had a little help, in the form of the half asleep Caroline who drove me to work today, but she was just verifying what I already knew.
Today, you were dressed simply in torn tights and tight shorts, a smile on your lips as you served people, helping Billy behind the bar. You stopped in front of me with a tray of what appeared to be chicken fingers and french fries, smirking slightly, like you forgave me, which I knew now that I didn’t deserve.
Do you remember all those stupid fights, the ones where you’d scream and yell and beat your fists against the walls and I would just sit there and take it? Yeah, that was for a reason, a simple one but an important one all the same. Because I loved you. I loved you then, I love you now, and I will love you until the end of time.
It’s that simple, and it always was, always will be. Relationships are messy, relationships are complicated, and you have to simplify them. I love you, Cady. I love you and I’ll whisper it in your ear as you sleep in my arms in the house we bought. I love you and I will tell that to our kids as they bounce on my knee and lay in your lap, Cady. I have a feeling you’ll still be beautiful, even after kids. I love you, and I would tell that to our grandkids, who looked just like you when you were that age, just like their parents did.
I get lost in daydreams like those a lot, Cady, where we’re happy and things just make sense, and my wildest dreams come true in happiness and only darkened in contrast with the bright lights of the happiness we feel constantly because we exist, together.
I clean down another disgusting table, wet with the sweat of children and beer, ketchup smeared over the whole deal while the father of four tries to hide the alcoholism that wrecks his life. You always told me I had a knack for reading people, Cady, and maybe that’s why it was so easy to read you.
Right now, judging by the stiff posture and rolling of your eyes, Billy was lecturing you. And by the way you didn’t look away, it was about me. He was telling you not to be around me, that I would just hurt you. But I hurt you once, Cady, and I sure as hell aren’t going to do it again. Please, Cady, just come back to me.
“Tommy,” Your grandmama said, interrupting my thoughts and praying that I wasn’t losing my touch. “You have a table, the family of six in the corner. I already took the drinks,” She handed me a small sheet of paper, “And they’re almost ready to order.” She walked away, and I saw the way she went straight to you.
I looked down at the sheet, and gave the smallest smile ever, knowing my job now, what I was supposed to do with me and you, and most of all, how I was supposed to go about getting back the girl whose heart I broke, the girl who I needed more than the sun needed the moon.
I read somewhere that by the age of sixteen, 80% of people will have met the person they are going to marry. I hope its you, Cady. I hope its you.
Another Monday night, Lillian’s full due to Monday night football and the old drunks requiring more drinks. Eyes darkened and conversations both whispered and yelled. You always had a knack for disappearing into crowds.
I was piecing it all together. You were depressed, you were lost, and you needed me. Sure, I had a little help, in the form of the half asleep Caroline who drove me to work today, but she was just verifying what I already knew.
Today, you were dressed simply in torn tights and tight shorts, a smile on your lips as you served people, helping Billy behind the bar. You stopped in front of me with a tray of what appeared to be chicken fingers and french fries, smirking slightly, like you forgave me, which I knew now that I didn’t deserve.
Do you remember all those stupid fights, the ones where you’d scream and yell and beat your fists against the walls and I would just sit there and take it? Yeah, that was for a reason, a simple one but an important one all the same. Because I loved you. I loved you then, I love you now, and I will love you until the end of time.
It’s that simple, and it always was, always will be. Relationships are messy, relationships are complicated, and you have to simplify them. I love you, Cady. I love you and I’ll whisper it in your ear as you sleep in my arms in the house we bought. I love you and I will tell that to our kids as they bounce on my knee and lay in your lap, Cady. I have a feeling you’ll still be beautiful, even after kids. I love you, and I would tell that to our grandkids, who looked just like you when you were that age, just like their parents did.
I get lost in daydreams like those a lot, Cady, where we’re happy and things just make sense, and my wildest dreams come true in happiness and only darkened in contrast with the bright lights of the happiness we feel constantly because we exist, together.
I clean down another disgusting table, wet with the sweat of children and beer, ketchup smeared over the whole deal while the father of four tries to hide the alcoholism that wrecks his life. You always told me I had a knack for reading people, Cady, and maybe that’s why it was so easy to read you.
Right now, judging by the stiff posture and rolling of your eyes, Billy was lecturing you. And by the way you didn’t look away, it was about me. He was telling you not to be around me, that I would just hurt you. But I hurt you once, Cady, and I sure as hell aren’t going to do it again. Please, Cady, just come back to me.
“Tommy,” Your grandmama said, interrupting my thoughts and praying that I wasn’t losing my touch. “You have a table, the family of six in the corner. I already took the drinks,” She handed me a small sheet of paper, “And they’re almost ready to order.” She walked away, and I saw the way she went straight to you.
I looked down at the sheet, and gave the smallest smile ever, knowing my job now, what I was supposed to do with me and you, and most of all, how I was supposed to go about getting back the girl whose heart I broke, the girl who I needed more than the sun needed the moon.
I read somewhere that by the age of sixteen, 80% of people will have met the person they are going to marry. I hope its you, Cady. I hope its you.