Back in the Saddle

Chain Smoking Charlie

Charlie

Not a word. Not one word. I didn't even hear what he said; my vision was a tunnel; my hearing stopped working. It felt as though the world had stopped turning. I was completely honed in on his face and his face only, and I don't know why after all these years it was so difficult to still see him and oh my God, now I'm here in my bedroom, chain-smoking cigarette after cigarette, trying to forget about the day's events.

    Nicky's called a few times, but I haven't answered. And Jess called too, when I never showed up at her house. I simply told her something came up and that I was unable to return. She didn't seem too upset over that, seeing as she didn't want me there in the first place.

    But how weird is it that I run to the grocery-of all places–to get cigarettes for my sister, and I run into my ex-fiancé? Like, what are the chances?

    Well, I knew we'd run into each other again one day, since I can't afford to move to London, because I'm working  two jobs and still hardly making it by.

    I still miss him like crazy, and now I'm unable to stop thinking about him.

    When I left that day, I was so sure of what I had done. I was certain that it was the right choice. And it was, too. I wouldn't want to spend the rest of my life unhappy with Steven, the drug addict singing in a rock band sleeping with a million different girls every night. I realized I didn't want to be the one that he'd come home to after a day of 'work' and have to sleep with and have to live with. I'm sure the last thing he wanted to do was come home and look at me, after seeing a different face or two every night. I'm sure, now, that he was bored with me. And I've convinced myself that I left for the best. He's happier now, and I'm happier now. Right?

    Well.

    I'm completely alone. I've tried seeing a few people, but nothing worked out. My heart just isn't in it anymore. I've got no interest in having a boyfriend, and I realize, as I sit here smoking, that it's because I'm not over Steven. Even after eight years, there is no closure whatsoever. Maybe it's because I left so abruptly, without even saying goodbye. I had no concern for the way he would feel about me doing that, and I honestly didn't give a shit at the time. But now I realize that I feel awful about what I did. I know Steven, and he's probably recognized his mistakes by now and for all I know at the grocery he could've been apologizing to me, expressing his love for me.

    Or he could've just been saying hello. I didn't hear what he said.

    Besides, he's probably got another girlfriend as is.

    But is he happy, I wonder? Is he really happy with his life right now?

    I try to be, but I'm not, really.

    I'm alone, I work two jobs, I hardly ever get to even be at home to pay my stupid rent because I'm working always. I rarely see Nicky, and that's about it, really. Nicky and my sister and occasionally Louis are the only people I ever see. My mom's married to Arthur and my dad has Alice.

    Are they happy? Is Jess happy?

    Is anyone fucking happy?

Maybe I should call him. For old time's sake. Just to see how he's doing, what he's up to, all that stuff. It could be a lighthearted conversation. Nothing too personal. No discussing the seventies, just the present, maybe the near future. Maybe that will help me get started in forming that little bit of closure that I need...

    But then again, I don't have his number, so I can't call him. And it's not like I can just contact him. He's famous and I'm not, and nobody would believe that we used to date because I'm me and he's Steven and Steven is Aerosmith and I'm just Charlie. A random nobody from Rhode Island who pretended to be a stripper named Penny so she could hang out with him.

    And that's when it hit me, my idea. As soon as I started thinking about that.

    I need to go to his house. I need to restart. I want to be friends, at most. I don't want things awkward between us because he's Steven and I'm Charlie and so what we used to date and so what I might still love him and so what he may have found someone else and so fucking what to everything that's ever happened because I just need to talk to him.

Cigarette still between my lips, I run my hands through my hair and yank my car-keys off the counter, unlocking my car and driving off to Nicky's.

    I was desperate, yes. I could've just called Nicky for Steven's address (assuming he even has it), instead of driving to his house. But I did anyway because I needed to drive somewhere to clear my head.

    I had to roll my windows down because my car was filled with smoke by the time I reached Nicky's apartment. I practically banged on the door.

    "Charlie, what the fuck?" he demanded tiredly. It was late in the evening and I didn't care.

    "I need Steven's address," I said desperately.

    "Wh– Why?" he asked, bewildered.

    "Because I need to talk to him. I need to see him. I miss him. I need to see for myself and prove to myself that I don't still love him. I need to move on so that I can meet new people and finally be fucking happy for once. So move out of the fucking way and give me the address," I snapped, getting angrier and more desperate with each word that left my lips.

    "Okay, okay," Nicky says, putting his hands up and stepping aside. "But I don't have it. I've got Tom's, though."

    "Great. Give it to me."

    "Charlie, you don't wanna go there right now. They're sleeping-"

    "They're fucking rockstars; you don't think they're partying?!"

    "I don't care! Just calm down, yeah?" Nicky said, placing his hands on my shoulders and forcing me to look up at him. "Take a breath. You're freaking out. You'll give yourself a panic attack."

    I took a breath, steadying myself, and now feeling near tears. "Please," I breathed, unable to be louder. "I just need it. I need to see him."

    "Okay, alright," he says softly, pulling me in for a hug and rubbing his hand in small circles around my back, the other hand petting my hair. "We can go tomorrow. But please, sleep here tonight. You can have my room; I'll sleep on the couch."

    I shake my head, small, "I need it now," I pleaded.

    "I can't give it to you now; it's three in the morning and you're high off cigarettes, which is odd, but... How many have you had?"

    "Dunno," I mumble, still latching onto him.

    "Right," he says. "C'mon, then...."

    And next thing I knew, I was in Nicky's bed and he was on the couch, and I was staring up at the ceiling, unable to fall asleep for at least an hour. I felt disgusting from all the smoking; I could smell it with each breath I took. While I tried to sleep, I imagined all the different scenarios of how my talking to Steven tomorrow would go. Eventually, I cooled down enough to drift off to a restless sleep.

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