The Longest Five Years (Completed)

Reagan, cont.

Five Years Ago

Dear Reagan,

I've been playing more shows since I got back. I can't believe my trip got cut short because of my fucking roommate. I knew that kid was gonna overdose one day. Lucky son-of-a-bitch is okay, but I won't be making it back to the States for awhile. I hope you've still been playing shows. You're amazing, you know. I've been looking for a lead singer for a new band I'm putting together, but no one's making the cut. Your voice is smooth, like honey...and although you're across an ocean, I know if you were here, you'd be a perfect fit. I want to send you lyrics sometime, to see what you think, but I didn't want to make you uncomfortable, so I thought I'd better ask first. I do plan on coming back for a bit, and when I do, I think we should meet up and do another show. Talk to the bar. Maybe we can schedule it. I need something good in my life again, and I think our music is it.

Benson

I fold up the letter and tuck it into my pocket. It's late. I just got home from a show, and there's no way in hell I'm sleeping anytime soon. I tried to be quiet when I came in, but the bartender was sneaking me drinks and I ended up taking a taxi home and leaving my car at the bar. I tripped over Luke's shoes when I came in, and fell right on my ass. He doesn't need them. He hasn't been home in over a week.

Now I'm sitting at the table with a bottle of whiskey and too many holes in my heart. I'm scribbling down lyrics, humming a sad melody. I'm sick about all of it – the heartbreak in his eyes, the fact that he left me here and hasn't called since. He feels its okay to be angry, but hasn't once asked me how I feel. I'm sick about the constant phone calls and texts he's been receiving from Rachel the past few weeks. She resorted to calling our home phone earlier this week, though I don't know how she got the number. I answered, and I'm sick about that, too. She was crying. She kept asking for Luke and even though I told her he wasn't here, she continued to cry.

'Just because you won doesn't mean you have to be a bitch, Reagan...'

'I'm sorry?' I was confused and fairly certain I didn't want to know more.

'You're a better fuck, I guess. You'd have to be if he went and married you. You tell your husband that I need to talk to him. He can't avoid me forever.'

My head pounded. My heart thundered in my chest. We might be in an argument, but I still love him, and I don't like the vibe I'm getting from Rachel. He's pissed as hell at me, but I needed answers. Did he cheat on me? My eyes flood with tears. How could I be so stupid? How did we get here?

The first time it happened, I hung up the phone and immediately dialed Luke. He didn't answer and I'm not surprised. We haven't talked since he left. It went straight to voicemail and I didn't bother to leave a message.

I flip off the lights and head to our room. An hour later, I hear him. Loud music. His engine revving over and over again. I march outside in my pajamas and stand in the headlights. I can't see his eyes; he's hidden by a bottle of bourbon and he's behind the wheel.

"Luke, what the hell are you doing?!" I scream at him. "Get out of the car."

"You don't get to tell me what to do, Reagan," he stretches out my name like it's painful to say.

"I do tonight," I tell him, walking to the passenger side. The window is down, but the door is locked and he won't let me in. I reach in to unlock it, but he holds the door shut. "Where have you been?"

"Anywhere but here. Everywhere but here," he snaps. "I didn't want to see you."

"Then why are you home?" I scream at him.

"What am I supposed to do?" His eyes are wild and angry, but I swear they're filling with tears. "I don't know what to do. My fucking wife got rid of my baby," he takes another swig of bourbon. The liquid sloshes in the bottle when he sets it back in his lap, one hand wrapped around it's neck. "I tried to go home and wish you away, but you're everywhere. You know that?" He screams. He laughs. It's not funny. "You're on the walls...your beautiful face. Your gorgeous mouth...I can't get rid of you. I tried, you know..." another sip. Another drag of his cigarette. Another wicked smile. "I went to a bar. I ordered shots. Lots of shots. And then I watched the band, but all I could think of was you. I kept hearing you. Seeing you. I can't sleep," he laughs again. "I can't sleep without you...but I can't stand the sight of you. I love you so much," he admits. Another swig. Another drag. "But I can't stand you right now."