November 11th. AM

6:19Am. Two times that I have been awakened from sleeping off last night. The first time, awaken by the sudden heat, too many blankets, sweatpants socks, keeping me warmer than I’d like to be. The second time 6:19AM, my phone rings. It’s from a number that while I do not have it saved into my phone, I know full well who it belongs to.

I answer, normally I ignore. But it is too early to think that clearly. No- I can’t blame the time. Truth is, curiosity answered that phone. Why is he calling and why is he calling now?

My voice is a raspy growl, last nights beer is visible with each word- “What do you want?” To talk, he wants to talk. Was I sleeping? Fuck yes, I was sleeping. Sleep I need and can rarely get. Unusual that I don’t wake up at this time on my own. But I’m awake now so what does he want. He’s outside. Come down and talk. Fine. No need to impress, Keep the messy ponytail I’d throw my hair in hours before. Jeans, sweater, sneakers with no socks. And then downstairs.

I don’t know what to expect. Yelling or self pitying,? Of course, the pity. I think I hate that the most.

He was out walking at home, and somehow he wound up here. No he didn’t wind up here, he walked here, preplanned. He walked here miles, when he has a car. And he wants to tell me everything he’d think I want to hear. I’m beautiful She’s a crazy bitch who doesn’t listen. We had it all, he fucked up. How did this happen. He tells me he made me happy. He knows I loved him. I don’t want him here, and yet I can’t be mean. He might flip out again. This is too dangerous.

But he wants to know How do I feel, what I am thinking?

Me? I’m fine, I say. I’m still drunk, my throat dry, intestines feel like they’re being ripped to shreds. Not sober enough to hide the physical pain caused by nature. I’m told he didn’t expect me to be this, but he should have known I’d be out drinking last night, that I might be still drunk. But it would be a misconception to think I drink because of anything.

I’m 21 and I can do whatever I want. That is my reason for life.

Let’s talk about converting, and the future that was supposed to be. The words can be as perfect and right as ever and still coming from the wrong person, they are horrible.

He doesn’t ask if there is anyone else. There isn’t anyone else, but there isn’t him either. Over. Why can’t I take him back, when there is no other? This I ask myself, why I still don’t want? Is it because of her? It’s not her. It’s him. Only him, not even the three strikes and he’s out. I am just past it. My freedom is too large a price to pay for him.

I don’t want a child. I give him money to get home. Tissues. Make him put on his coat. Be a good boy for mommy.

Then I make sure he leaves. That the door is locked behind him, I make sure of it The door is locked and shall forever remain so.