Typically, you show up at dinner time, to share the chores and fun that go with it. But still I am alone in the house. The chunks of tart cheese waver and dance as I stare at them with brimming eyes. ‘Should I go ahead, fix the meat? Eat? Or just go out?’ I plan for your appearance; it’s been an unspoken pact. But lately, I find I am not the priority I should be. Maybe, leaving the house and heading out to a bar is what I need. What you need to see. My fists push into my soggy eyes, turning my fingers black with smeared mascara. ‘You know what is going on. He just needs the time. Stop being so needy.’ The sound of boots on the stairs interrupts my stream of consciousness. I wipe at the smears of mascara, evidence of how these disappearances affect me, with fingers made clumsy by my haste and grab a nearby book, letting it fall open, unseen pages tumbling across my lap. ‘I’m not going to show him how worried I was. I’m not going to let him see how much I need him. I’m absolutely. I watched her as she carefully sipped her hot beverage, and stared into space. I too stared into space, when she suddenly burst out crying again. I placed my cup down on the table beside the sofa, and took her cup out of her hands and did the same. Slowly I shuffled closer to her, and pulled her into my chest. I cradeled her in my arms and ran my fingers through her hair. Seeing her like this really did hurt me. What was supposed to be a fun night out turned into a disaster. Along with some other friends of ours, Rebecca and I were at the Blue Violet nightclub for its annual Valentines Day rave. The night had kicked off to a great start. After a couple of shots we decided to hit the dance floor. As we got lost in the music, from the corner of my eye I could see Rebecca's love interest Sam enter the nightclub. They weren't actually together, but she was madly in love with him. I knew for a fact he didn't love her back, and was just using her for sex. But Rebecca was too blind to.
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