Let Her Go

Bourbon is one hell of a thing.

Walking home after a "few" drinks with the boys didn't work in my favor.

My feet grew heavier by the second causing my legs to stumble against each other and before I knew it, I tripped.

Over a pebble.

I didn't sober up until I realized the bright red rug in front of an oddly familiar brownstone.

Parked on the sidewalk was the 2016 civic we got through blood, sweat, and tears, yet the rug corrected my posture.

The now dirty rug we got a year ago.

I rubbed my boot across the right corner and sighed. It was our ritual then but now, it is a solo 5 am NYC morning walk of shame.

The second floor radiated the warm light I waited to bask myself in. I could already smell the enchanting smell of vanilla bean laced in the air. 

However, tonight was different.

I carefully opened the oak door and glided through a familiar creak-less floor into our stairway without a sound.

An abyss greeted me, casting an onyx-colored shadow against our stairs  but I knew better.

Stage 2 out of 5. 

Thankfully the moonlight rays peeked through the shades as I reached the top step.

Her scent tickled my nostrils. 

A faint smell of vanilla lingered in the air, the sign of her bath wash after a shower. It almost knocked me out of my concentration. Cautiously, I undressed, making sure to take my time. The last thing I wanted was to make myself known and trip over my feet.

Like every other night, every step was second nature; the temporary anger, seeking satisfaction, sneaking around, what came afterwards, and even the sick yet powerful gut wrenching feeling of disgust.

A twisting ache crunched my abdomen when I reached our bedroom door. It become almost unbearable as I twisted the knob.

My mind screamed to leave, to at least go back to where I belonged but my body wanted her. It craved to hold her, to feel her heartbeat against mine.

I wanted her.

And no one else.

The words pounded in my head. I felt disgusting, miserable and like a coward, and sadly it was the time I needed her the most. I left like a slag but the alcohol won the battle and my reflexes guided the way. Eight seconds flashed and I found myself  lying underneath the covers engulfing us with both our smells; tequila and vanilla.

My favorite.

Immediately, she shifted to her right, turning over and facing away from me.

She was up.

I moved closer, closing the slight gap between us and wrapping my arms around her.

I could smell her. Hear her. Feel her.

She appeared so fragile under me. So soft and innocent. It just confirmed how much of a monster I was. A mesmeric sap who took the love of his life for granted even after everything he has put her through. The lying, the cheating, the arrogance, the minor things I knew drove her wild. Sometimes leaving the toilet seat up, leaving an unwashed fork in the sink, touching her in all the right places. Through it all, she still loved me. She never complained, instead she would laugh and brush it off because she knew it was who I was.