The fine white residue lay on the edge of her finger. She looks up at me. I can’t tell whether she was truly apologetic or whether she has just mastered the art of manipulation. “It’s the last time I promise. And it isn’t much anyway.”
Her pathetic smile makes it worse. I roll my eyes and stare out the car window. I hear her snort. I can only picture the tiny white particles absorb into her bloodstream and pump thick through her veins. Vivid. Unsettling. She sighs. The cloud in the car grows dark.
“It’s okay baby. It’s not as bad as you think.” She says. I feel her hot lips on the back of my neck.
I instantly turn to her. Hot. Angry. “Not as bad? Not… as… bad? You can just as well plan your funeral. Make all the arrangements. Pay for everything in advance. It would spare me a whole lot of trouble and sure as hell a little heartache.”
I clamber from the car. The door slams hard behind me. I can’t look at her. She disgusts me. But I love her. Too much love. Too much commitment. She poisons me but I love her.
The club is packed once again. All the faces just blitz past me. I can’t focus. I can only picture what would happen if she continues this destructive habit. How is it that I always choose the messy girls; the ones with more cons than pros? Why do I keep doing this to myself? I’m better than this. I deserve better. I can do better. I don’t need to take care of anybody. This isn’t what relationships should be like.
The music is blaring. I feel it beneath my feet.
I came to have a good time. I came to dance and for a second just pretend to forget. I came to pretend. I came to forget.
“I love you. I love you so much.” Her whispers caresses the back of my neck.
I tilt my head away. Go away. Go-away-go-away-go-away.
“Apparently not enough.” I walk away.
I sip quickly at the drink in my hand. It sooths my anxiety. It sooths my thoughts. It burns my stomach. But I keep sipping.
She follows me around like a lost puppy. I can feel her anxiety. I can feel her troubling thoughts circulate her. She knows she’s outdone herself this time. She can sense my growing hatred. The hatred she fuels.
I ignore her words. I ignore her woeful glare. I ignore her attempt to show affection. I’m done. I’m done for good. This was the last time. Never again. I can’t. Not again and again and again.
She follows me to the restroom. I have rolled my eyes at her so many times that I’ve seen the inside of my lids more often tonight than anything else.
I feel her push the door open that I’ve insistently tried to put between us. Some sort of barrier. Some sort of physical separation. Something to force myself to keep away from her. I always go back. I always believe her. I always take her word. I always forgive and trust and love again; just to be broken. Repeatedly.
She closes the door behind her. The toilet stall is minute. She knows I have no option but to talk to her.
“Why are you like this? Don’t be such a bitch tonight. You’re supposed to be my girlfriend. It’s like I don’t exist anymore.”
I smile at her tragic thought pattern. “And for the last year of our relationship, I haven’t existed anymore. You disregard my every word and request. I have begged and pleaded so many times with you to just leave that shit. To just do it for me. I have given up so much for you. Why can’t you just do this for me?”
“I don’t understand the problem? I don’t do anything to you when I have some! I don’t get why you have to be so negative with me.”
She won’t understand. Never. I knew she wouldn’t. But I’ve stayed. I’ve stuck through it.
I dab my finger against the edge of her eye. I pull her hand forward and trace the long scar that lay across her arm. I press my palm against chest and feel her heart beat rapidly.
“That scar and that scar. And the heart issues you’re having. What do you think caused all of that? All the fights and aggression and problems you’ve had in the last while has happened when you forced that stuff up your nose. And I can’t do it anymore. I’m done.”
She sees I’m serious. Her pupils are huge. I can’t look at her. Her eyes remind me of who she is while on her obvious high.
Her lips are suddenly against mine. Hot. Intense. I love her. I hate her habit but I love her.
My response is automatic and I close my eyes. I take it in. I take the last of her in. This would be the last time. The last time I would feel her lips and taste her tongue. I promise myself. The last, last time.
Her left arm wraps around my waist. She pulls me against her chest. Her scent filters into my nostrils. That was my drug. The only drug I’d ever need. Her scent. Her taste. Her.
She unbuttons my pants. I hate public toilets. I hate feeling dirty. But this was after all the last time. The place was irreverent. I was going to soak up all of her. All she was able to give. Just this once. Just for the last time.