The whiskey goes down so smooth now that I can barely feel it; my throat is ripped raw, and it feels good. I hold the bottle up and look at the remaining liquid in the dim streetlights. There isn't much left. I can barely remember drinking that much.
I lean back in the car seat and stretch. I've been sitting in my car for over an hour now, just waiting. But waiting for what? What's going to happen? Nothing, unless I want it to. And I think I want something to happen.
I crook my arm out the window and stare over at her house. I automatically look up at the bedroom window and my neck gets sore from being twisted in that position too much tonight, but the whiskey is working, and I just don't give a damn. I can see a faint light, flickering candlelight through the thin, white curtains. Fucking candlelight! I pound my fist against the door once, and then again, but it doesn't help, just pisses me off even more.
The song on my stereo ends again and again I hit the back button making it start over. I sing along with it, "I'm free now," letting the lyrics, the music, soak into me, "I'm really just a fuck-up and it's such a waste," and I breathe it in, "There's something going on that makes my guts ache," drink it down like the whiskey, "I got guilt, I got fear, I got regret," and it burns going down, "I'm just a panic stricken waste, I'm such a jerk," and I love it, "the last thing I want to do is ever cause you pain," and it lays on my chest like it could crush me under its weight, and I want it to. I want to feel it in my bones, feel it under my skin, writhing through my head, and I close my eyes to let it overwhelm me, pushing me to cry, pushing at me hard, but fuck it, I won't do it, I won't fucking cry.
I pour more whiskey down my throat and stare back at the window. The music plays on, repeating, leaching through my pores, and through the window I imagine that I can see them, I can see her, in the flickering candlelight I can see her dark chest, hidden in shadows, her breasts heaving, the light playing across her nipples, her breath comes intense and sharp, her lips parted, her eyes closed, and she smiles as she drops her head down, her dark hair, falling about her face, and her eyes open to look at him underneath her, and his hands rise up to touch her breasts, and I can't breathe, I'm breathing too fast, I'm hyperventilating, and I can't focus, I can't see the house, and I hit the fucking steering wheel, and I hit it again, and I throw the bottle out of the fucking window, and it hits the street with a loud shatter of glass that pierces through my enraged mind, and I slam the car door behind me as I step out of the car.
The world is fuzzy and I'm not connected to it. The house looms over me as I approach it. My boots are loud and hard on the sidewalk, seeming to boom in the quiet night. I lower my head to glower through my overgrown and unkempt hair and I feel good, my teeth pressed together, my fists in tight balls at my sides, my chest rising and falling in deep breaths, cold air blasting through my nostrils, and there's only me in this fucking world, nothing else matters, what I do doesn't matter, because it's all just nothing.
I skid to a halt at the front door, trying to think of what to do, glancing up and leaning back to try to see the bedroom window, and look back down at the door, barring my way, standing in front of me, rocking back and forth, and I stare at it and I can't remember what I should do here.
I see her, remember her, long ago, standing here at the door, rain pouring down, bags dangling in her hands as I held her purse in my arm and searched through it for the keys. She was laughing, telling me to hurry, we're getting soaked, but she we was laughing, and making me laugh, and I couldn't find anything in her purse, never could. She stepped closer, her face was right under mine, looking up at me, that smile, her lips turned up, her cheeks flushed, her dark hair wet and dripping, and she was beautiful. I kissed her. She kissed me. And we were laughing as we kissed, her purse smashed between us. As always it rose so quickly, the heat, the fire, burst to life, and her bags fell to the ground and I pressed her to the door and she was touching my chest, pulling my shirt open, and I was feeling her breasts through her dress, wanting to rip the dress from her, to feel her skin, wet and slick, wanting to lay her down in the rain and the mud. She pulled away, her eyes watching me, the smile gone, serious, her jaw set, because she wanted me, and she pulled her keys from her purse without looking. We pushed the door open and we fell on the living room floor, pulling clothes from our bodies, panting, hurrying because we couldn't get there fast enough, every second I wasn't inside of her was a second lost, and then she was grasping my cock, leading me into her, and as I slid into her we both moaned so loud and with such relief that we both laughed again.
I smile to myself, swaying on my feet, and I can feel her again. I stare at the door and she's not there. The door just stands in my way and it holds me back, and I take a breath and want to knock it down. I knock on the door loudly, pounding my knuckles into it, wanting to feel the door give under my fist, and I hit it harder.
"I'm coming," I hear her yell inside the house.
I stop pounding on the door and I stand still, swaying back and forth slightly, numb, ready to see her, I won't feel a thing, she's nothing to me now.
"Jude?" I hear her exclaim through the door.
I look at the peephole, knowing that she's looking back at me. I hear the deadbolt turn, hear the chain being slid back, and the door opens.
She's stand in front of me again. And she's beautiful. I hold my breath and just stare at her. The sight of her, her silky black hair drifting to her shoulders, her hands clutching a robe about her body, her eyes a tender brown, twists through me like a knife, wrenching and tearing, and I want to fall on my knees and beg with her, plead with her, oh God Elena take me back, just take me back, and I didn't know what I was doing, I didn't mean it, I didn't, I could never hurt you, never, but I rise up, pulling in a breath, and I push it back down.
"Jude?" she says, glaring out at me, her eyes dark and questioning. "What are you doing here? It's late."
"I wanted to see you," I say, trying to keep my voice flat, emotionless, and I force my lips back into a smile.
"Jude, we can't talk right now," she says, stepping forward, holding the door tight against her so I can't see into her house. "It's late." She peers me at me, her eyes searching my face. "And you're drunk, aren't you?" she says disgusted.
I smile back at her and chuckle. "Just a bit, baby," I say.
I take a step towards her and I look down her body, look down where the robe stops at her knees, look down and see stockings on her lower legs, high heels on her feet, and I look back up at her, at her face made up, her hair like it had been fixed, but has since been messed up, and I glare back at her.
"Are those the stockings and heels you used to wear for me?" I ask her.
She sets her jaw, just like she always used to, not when she wants me, no, when she's mad at me, angry, sets her jaw, sets her mind, and she's a fucking brick wall.
"It's none of your business, Jude. Now, just go home," she yells.
She steps back and starts to close the door, but I reach out and stop it. She looks up at me, glaring at me, her eyes flickering with that fire, and a bit of fear, just a tinge, and she steps back as I push the door open and step inside. I stare at her as I close the door behind me, feeling wound up, everything, every emotion and thought wound inside of me, and I hold onto it, not wanting to let it go, trying to stay calm, and looking into her eyes, seeing that fear, I'm glad, just to see something, something besides that old disgust.
