High Hopes

"You wanna get out of here?" The man of the night whispered into my ear. A Kendrick Lamar song blasted from the speakers at the lavish house party, vibrating through my body. It was a song I actually liked, and given how drunk I was, I wanted to dance. But I wanted to leave more than I wanted to dance, so I downed whatever was left in my classy blue plastic cup and told him to lead the way.

He latched onto my hand and I stumbled behind him. My eyes wandered around the party still in full swing, when they landed on a familiar figure. It took me awhile to register who it was, but it seemed clear. The long legs, the dapper outfit, the effervescent smile. I knew who that was. Suddenly, I had never wanted to leave a party more.

After a pathetic rustle in the sheets with a man I couldn't remember the name of, I lay wide awake. The body next to me snored quietly while I contemplated how truly low I had sunken. After Tom and I had that awful exchange at my apartment, we never spoke again. He had sent me plenty of flowers, left plenty of messages, and tried to find me in places I frequented. When he couldn't get to me, the calls came in less and less. Occasionally, he would drunk dial me. Finally he must've deleted my number, and I never heard from him again.

It hurt. It was so painful to let go of him. At this moment, lying in bed with a stranger, a slight alcohol problem, and a loss of passion for my life, I couldn't understand why I'd done this to myself. Maybe I was naturally self-destructive. Whatever I was, it was too late to fix.

I rolled out of bed, slipping on an oversized t-shirt and pulling a joint and lighter out of my purse. Finding my way to a balcony, I lit the tightly rolled blunt and took a big drag. I needed to sleep. I needed to stop thinking. I needed everything to go away. Once I finished the joint, I flopped back onto the bed and slowly drifted off.

--

I sat there, scrolling listlessly through Grace's tag on Tumblr. It was obvious to me that she didn't look like she used to. She was skinny, her eyes lifeless, and she appeared to get no joy out of whatever she was doing. I was worried for her. I never expected this to happen to her. When she shut me out, it was hard. I loved her, and she returned the feelings, so naturally I couldn't understand why she let go of me so easily. Yes, I'd been an asshole, but I tried so hard to make it right. I didn't get through to her once.

"Tom, honey? Why don't you come to bed?" My girlfriend Claire asked tiredly.

Claire wasn't Grace. She didn't hold a candle to Grace. But I couldn't sit around and wait for her. She made it quite clear that she wasn't going to come back to me any time soon. Even if she didn't want me anymore, I had to make sure she was okay.

"I will, just a minute darling," I called. Quickly unlocking my phone, I pulled up my conversation with Luke, my publicist.

Can you look into what projects Grace is doing next and see which one I fit into best? I need to get through to her. You understand. Talk to you in the morning. Thanks