https://youtu.be/NCtzkaL2t_Y
“Don’t
Let Me Down”
I sat in his bed
while he cleansed the night before with the steam and Irish Spring soap. I was
fidgeting with his red and black tartan plaid blanket with my fingertips, while
contemplating how to help him remember the drunken mess that occurred in the pub
style bar last night. While tugging and stretching the cotton fabric, I tried
to remember myself. It all happened so fast and left everyone at the bar with a
bitter taste in their mouths. Bitter than the Irish whisky he downed before the
sharp words he exchanged with his brother.
He finally came
out of the bathroom, looking like a refreshed man ready for a new day. After
rubbing his towel on his damp hair, he smiled and asked me if I slept okay. I
stared at him trying to find the first word to say. I looked down, and felt a
lump rolling up my throat.
“Do
you remember anything at all last night? You were pretty drunk.” I apprehensively
asked.
“Um. Not really.”
He smirked, and said “I remember the Jameson before seeing my brother.”
“So you don’t
remember what you said to him and what he said to you?”
He looked down
with his hand on the back of his head, and lowly mumbled, “Not all of it…I remembered
yelling at him, but I’m not sure why.”
I stared into
his brown infused blue eyes, stoically trying not to lose my temper. Nevertheless,
I can feel the lump go up again, but this time faster.
“Really?” I doubtfully
asked.
He let out a
heavy sigh. “What’s wrong?”
“Fucking
seriously!? How drunk were you!?” I yelled.
His demeanor
changed, and his attitude went from uncertain to defensive.
“What? I told you I don’t remember! You said you
would be DD. It’s not like I was arguing with you last night, I was fighting
with him!”
“Look it’s not
only the fight you and your brother had, which was fucking embarrassing by the
way!”
“I’m fucking
sorry!”
“Let me finish!
You told me you weren’t going to drink that much whisky last night, and you
lied! What the fuck!?”
“I don’t know
what to say..”
“Really?! Because
you had so much to say last night…Look whatever issue you two were dealing with
is your business, but when you drink, you have a tendency to say things that
you don’t mean. Things that hurt.”
He just sat on
the edge of the bed, staring at his record player that laid against his dark
gray painted wall. Not saying a word. Not even a half hearted sorry. After the
short awkward silence, I spoke again.
“The fucked up
thing is you lied, why did you-“
“I said I’d do
my best!”
“Well, your best
was shit.”
“What the fuck? And
you say I’m hurtful!”
He got up from
the bed, and looked straight at me. His eyebrows were scrunched down, and his
face was turning red.
“What did he say
to me? Because I wouldn’t just start fightin’ with him for no reason.” He
asked.
“Look he wasn’t
exactly nice about it either, he did yell at you first.”
“So why are
jumping down my throat so fast?”
“Because if you didn’t
drink so much last night, you would’ve been able to handle the situation better!
You promised me-“
“I actually didn’t.
So….”
His bluntness
hit me so hard, and I can feel the sting of his spiteful words in my chest. I
stood up and turned my back to him, trying to hold my tears in. I don’t want to
cry, not at this. I don’t want to open that part of me. But they came, and I
felt the warm liquid run down my cheek. I couldn’t stand him any longer. I had
to get out. I rushed to grab my bag and phone and ran out of his apartment.
When I was back
at home, I fell into my bed and started sobbing. I haven’t cried that hard in a
long time, and I hated the fact he was the one making me do it. He never made
me cry this much before, yet I still felt conflicted about our fight. Was I
being too hard on him? No fucking way! He was acting stupid last night, and
even dumber today. Still, as I lay weeping, I knew that we both got heated
pretty fast, and the repercussions of the entire fight was too raw to handle. I’ve
never had a love like his before, and despite this fight, he has always been so
incredibly sweet to me. He knew he shouldn’t have drank that much whiskey, and
I told him I hated the way he acts when he does. Why did he have to let me
down?
_________________________________________________________________________________________________
*Unfortunately, I couldn't find a video of the The Beatles
version of the song, so you might have to find this song on your own*
“Oh
Darling!”
I
wish she didn’t yell at me so damn loud. I knew I drank too much last night,
and maybe I shouldn’t have, but It’s been a long week. She turned around and
didn’t look at me one bit when she grabbed her stuff and left. The sound of my
front door slamming shut rang in my ear, and was the only thing she left me with.
I let out a sigh, and sat down on my bed. I looked down, and stared at a crack
on the surface of the ash wood floor of my bedroom. Was that there before?
She
knows how hot headed my brother gets, why couldn’t she see my point of view? I
didn’t actually promise her I wouldn’t drink whisky last night. I did tell her
I would try though. Maybe I did let her down. Ugh I hate this, I hate knowing
she’s mad at me, but it’s probably my fault. Honestly, how else is she supposed
to feel? I put her in this situation. She might’ve yelled at me first, but I
must’ve acted like a huge asshole last night, for her to be this mad. I went
back and forth in my mind for a while, and went over the entire fight that I
had with her. This isn’t the first time this happened, me getting drunk and
fighting with my brother. It probably get’s old real quick. I really fucked up,
will she ever speak to me again? Maybe I should call her, and ask if she can
come back to work things out.
I grabbed my
phone and called her, hoping she would pick up, but it went to voicemail. I
called her again, hoping she was in the bathroom, hoping she was just away from
her phone instead of avoiding me. It rang four times, and then it went to
voicemail again. This time I decided to leave her a message, hoping she sees my
urgency.
“Hey, honey look, I’m sorry. Can you please
come back and talk to me? If you don’t want to drive all the way back, I can go
over your place if you want. Just let me know what you want to do. Look I..I
never meant to hurt you. I know I fucked up. Okay, I hope to hear from you
soon.”
I waited ten
minutes by my phone, looking at it and hoping it would just ring. I stared at it,
hoping to see her name across that screen. God, I hope she doesn’t leave me. I
don’t know what I’d do if she did. She could be stubborn and quick tempered
sometimes, but she’s also compassionate and silly, and I love her. Suddenly, I
started to panic at the thought of her never coming back, and leaving for good.
Hearing her say, “I’m done with you”, and to never speak, hug, or kiss me ever
again. I would be devastated, and probably lose my mind.
I was feeling
agitated, and I could feel my anxiety building up. That was another thing she
was good at, helping me through my anxiety. The nerves were too much to handle,
so I got up and started walking out to my living room. I needed to be in a
wider space. I started pacing back and forth, and started to lose my breath.
The air felt thick and humid, like summertime in Tennessee. I walked over to my
window to open it, and moved my face close to the mesh to the point of almost
touching it. A cool breeze met my face, and I could finally breathe again. I
inhaled and exhaled a couple of times by the window, and with each breath I
took in, I could feel my anxiety calming down.
I knew it was no
point sitting by my phone and waiting for her call because I knew what she
needed, and that was time. I know her, I know she needs some time to herself to
think everything over, and maybe I needed that too. She will eventually call,
and I’ll be here waiting.
I decided to
watch some old westerns to keep my mind off my phone. I was still waiting for
my darling to call me back, but it’s been seven hours now. Maybe I should call
her again. No, I should give her some space, and call back tomorrow if she doesn’t
call me tonight. I did this to myself, the argument was bad, but I knew what
hurt her most, and that was my reckless behavior. The more I thought about it,
the more I realized she’s too good for me, and maybe she shouldn’t call me
back. As I started to wrap my mind around that heart breaking thought, my phone
rang. It was dark in my living room, and even though my TV is on, the light
from my phone was the only thing I saw.
