Past Lovers

Past Lovers. 1

The past still haunts me. Every day, I try to run from it, as fast as I can. It doesn't matter what I do or how fast my feet touch the pavement. In the end, it always catches up. I cannot escape the past, I can only delay it. 

I told this to my whiskey, as I clinked the ice cubs in the glass together. After three long, lonely years, I've discovered that when you need somebody to listen, alcohol is always willing to lend an ear. I gulped down what was left, then tapped the brim of the glass, ordering another from Billy the Bartender. He was a tall young man, with jet black hair combed to perfection, and hip, thick rimmed glasses. Billy has been my only true friend, next to Jameson and Jack Daniels of course. 

"Chase, you've had four already," Billy scolded, as he wiped the inside of a drinking glass clean with his dishtowel. 

"And you're point is?" I sneered, tapping my glass again. "I don't care. I want another."

Billy sighed. "Chase, you asked me to look after you. I'm trying to do my job." 

I rolled my drowsy eyes. Billy always liked to contradict me, but I always served him right back.

"Last time I checked your job was to be a bartender. A bartender fills a paying customer's drink," I trailed off, swiveling in my seat. I pointed to myself. "Paying customer." Then I pointed to him. "Bartender." 

"Fine," he grunted, as he reached under the counter and pulled out the bottle. "But don't blame me tomorrow when you come to your senses."

He filled my glass to the top, and frowned. I requited him with an eager grin. After taking a desperately needed sip, I scanned the bar crowd then stared longingly at the door. 

"You know, that girl in the black dress a couple tables down keeps checking you out," Billy murmured, trying to pull my attention away from the entrance. "Why don't you go talk to her?" 

I shook my head in response before even glancing at her. I knew what she looked like. She wore a tight little black dress, had sleek hair, and raccoon eyes. She sat with her girlfriends, as they laughed and danced, prowling for men to sweep them off their feet for the night. That's what all the girls that came here did. Neon Light Bar offered the perfect atmosphere for that kind of activity, with it's new-wave techno music, dimmed lights, and contemporary feel. I, however, came here for a different reason. 

"I'm okay. I'm waiting, remember?" 

"Chase, when are you going to give up? I can't stand to see you waste your life like this. You're in one of the hottest bars in New York City, filled with a handful of beautiful ladies who would love to go home with you. It's been three years, Chase. One since you've seen her here. She's not coming back, so stop spending every night here at this bar waiting for her to. You've got to move on, and get back in the game. Stop feeling sorry for yourself, stop hiding from reality, and stop throwing your life away." 

I rolled my eyes. This was the third time this week he had given me this speech, and it was only Thursday. 

"Billy...Bill," I clicked my tongue at him. "You see, this is where you and me are different. You're a quitter. I'm not going to give up."

"Even when it's a hopeless cause?" Billy inquired, baffled by my stubbornness.

"You may think it is, but I know it's not," I closed my eyes. "I can feel it. She's so close. Just right around the corner, on the next block. I can see her as she comes home from work, in that tight little pencil skirt and button down blouse. Her chocolate hair is flapping through the city wind, her hands shaking from the cold as she fumbles with the key to her apartment."

"Chase, I'm not your typewriter," Billy snapped, pulling me out of my haze of imagination. "Go home if you want to write, but I'm not going to stand here and listen while you live in la-la land. Excuse me, but I've got other customers," he snarled, as he left to go make his round of refills. 

I was used to being abandoned. Everybody I had ever cared about left me; my father, my mother, my wife. Billy was different, because he always came back to give me another drink or send me my bill. 

Feeling rather inspired, I took Billy's advice. I paid, grabbed my coat, and escaped to the chilly streets of New York. I missed the weather in California almost as much as I missed the beach. I had moved here because of her and her career, and hadn't left because I knew she was still here. 

After my father's death, my therapist recommended that that I write to express myself. At first, writing was just an outlet. With time, it became more than just a way to mediate my anger and depression. At college, I studied creative writing and literature. Two years after graduating, my short story Love Always was printed by a small publishing company. Since then, I'd had only writer's block and rejection. 

My wife . . . my ex-wife, chose a more practical career. She studied marketing and advertising, a creative business career. Last I heard, she was running one of the largest marketing firms in New York. But who knows where she was now. 

Who knows where she was now. 

My life without her was nothing. I had lost her once before, and was able to win her back. I remember what she said to me: "Hurt me once, shame on you. Hurt me twice, shame on me." Well, I had gone and hurt her the second time, three years into our marriage, and she stood by her word. I wrote to her every day for a year, 365 letters, and only got one back. On the last day, it said:

Dear Chase,

What's done is done. You cannot change the past. You can only live with it. You have written to me for a year, and it's time you move on. I have. So please, stop writing these pathetic letters. If you send anymore, I will send them back, and eventually file for harassment. Take this as a warning.

Hayden

She always meant business . . .  after all, she did have her MBA. So I abided by her orders, and stopped sending the letters I still wrote for her. I kept them in a bundle in the bottom drawer of my computer desk, the bundle still growing every day. If only she would read what I had to say. 

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Well there you go! First chapter of Past Lovers. I hope you all enjoyed it and keep loyal to the story. It's sad now, but I promise it'll get better!!