finished

I’m so drunk. I remember walking back with her. It was early, still a couple hours to bar close, so I don’t know exactly why we were back. She was pretty drunk and on top of me, rocking her hips. What the hell? What had she said about her boyfriend? Studying or something? Didn’t she mention he might meet up later? How did I get it up?

It’s not like we haven’t done it before. For the last three years we’ve taken turns cheating on our significant others with each other. Two potentially good relationships have ended because of her. I just ended a very long one before coming into town for the weekend of her birthday. There’s always talk of the love and how everything will work out and other things that young, idiotic, people tell each other. Did I bring the rubber? How did I lose my pants? I wasn’t going to get into it with her again.

On and off, over and over, we’d been with each other and away from each other so often I’ve lost count. The feelings for her are stronger than with anyone else. Or is it because you’re able to still get in her pants after so long? I’m pretty sure I love her. Or maybe I just like having the option of loving her. How did I get her pants off? She said we wouldn’t do this because of the boyfriend. She said feels bad.

I’m barely paying attention. I’m into it, but I can barely see straight. I don’t think I have enough sober left in me to finish. She feels good. Not as good as my ex though. Why did I leave her? Why can’t I figure out what I want out of anything? It’s hard to say how long we’ve been at it. I feel like this is our second position, but I don’t remember moving. Things are sort of clearing up, but slowly. Like a windshield defrosting in pitch blackness.

Wait. I don’t have to be here. Part of me wants to be here. I’m glad I am here. But why am I here? I don’t even like chilling with her anymore. Everyone says she’s too self-involved. That I’m just caught up in it and don’t see it. They’re probably right. I reach my hands out, grab her hips, and lift her up and left while shifting to my right. I sit up and she gives me a look that screams, “what the hell are you doing?” Her eyes are glossy. Glazed by the drink.

“I have to piss,” I murmur, while tossing the rubber in the trash and grabbing my shorts from the floor. I step into them as I make my way to the door. I snap my eyes shut in a wince. Someone left the hall light on. In a couple steps I’m in the bathroom, my shorts barely on. I brace myself and then turn on the light. My eyes adjust. I stare at myself in the mirror. I’m ragged. My eyes are bloodshot and my face is flush. I don’t need this shit. I’m wasting my time here. Why did I come down here for the weekend anyway? Am I that pathetic? The one I left was a much better lay and I never felt like shit after or had to stop in the middle. Idiot.

I reach out, flush the toilet to keep up appearances, and can hear her on the phone. I splash some cold water against my face. Did she just say, “see you in a bit?” She’s laying on the bed, under the covers now, and I can see her looking up at me in the small rectangle of light from the hall. I step over to the bed and lay for a second. She rests her head on my shoulder. I turn slightly and say, in a raspy voice that’s not my own from hours of drinking and yelling, I’m all out for the night and that I’m going to crash downstairs. Should I tell her I’m over her. That whatever love I once had for her is in short supply?

“There are blankets on the loveseat under the table. I’ll be down in a few minutes. [Boyfriend]’s coming by in a little while.” I throw a t-shirt over my head and walk into the hall. That dick’s actually doing to sleep in the bed I was just fucking her in. She won’t tell him. He probably knows. I don’t feel bad about it. Is she already over me? Am I just an easy fuck on occasion? I’m too drunk to know if the couch is comfortable. I grab a pillow from the chair and lay my head down.

I must have fallen asleep. She’s started up the stairs and he’s just behind her. She must have spread the blanket over me. My eyes are half shut. I hear them talking to one another. Their feet are heavy walking into her room. They’re probably sitting on the bed now. Maybe he’ll see the rubber before she has a chance to hide it. I smile a little bit.

All the curiosities of her affection for me. Thoughts of how I could make a relationship work. Justifications for her egotism and naivety. Feeling the heat of her jealousy in her voice over the phone. Helplessly listening to her describe her loneliness. At least that’s over. A formidable weight has been lifted. Even fall-down drunk, I feel sober, completely sober, for the first time in months. My eyes fall close and there's darkness.