Stay With Me

There’s a difference between knowing in your mind what the right thing to do is, and knowing in your heart. I always thought that once the mind knew what was right, the heart would follow, because obviously, the mind knows better. The mind sees things more clearly than the heart. The heart lets emotions get in the way, without taking other things into account. I had never had my head and my heart so horribly disconnected before. My heart wanted me to be selfish. Or, maybe it was the excuse I told myself to free myself of the responsibilities of my actions. Whatever my excuses, whatever my desires, I knew better then. I knew the logical ending to this scenario that I had led myself into. Either way, it was going to hurt. Badly. All I could do was take the pain, and make sure that I used it as a lesson on how low I could let myself sink when self pity and selfishness took over.

I was shivering, from the unseasonably cold chill in the air, and nerves. I bit my lip, which, to my surprise, was a little dry and chapped. It didn’t really matter, though. Not right then. I needed to focus. I had gone outside, instead of waiting in the reception. It felt too small, too suffocating, and the memories that the place held was just too overwhelming. I wondered if I’d be able to stand being in that office anymore. Little mental notes were flying through my mind, things that I would have to do as a result of the choice I was making. I chewed on my lower lip, wringing my hands together anxiously, as I wanted time to speed up. I knew it was going to be like a band aid – do it quickly, and it hurts far less. I was going to be sharp, making the wound easier to mend in the long run, even if it was more brutal in the moment.

Fear of pain is always far worse than the pain itself. The nights when Nick would take his time to sneak into my room, leaving me to stay awake in terror for hours was the worst part of my teenage years. Being allowed time to think, to mull things over and plan and exaggerate what was about to come made me shake in anticipation, the cold sweat coating my skin as adrenaline would pump through my veins. Hearing the door gently creak open, and the light footsteps treading the carpet, was when the panic reached its peak. The flight or fight mode was taking place, and I always chose the flight mode. I shut down when the duvet was lifted up, and when Nick would strip me of clothes - I was barely there. I could barely register the way his hands would roam over my body, trying to get a reaction out of me. By then, I was almost glad that the thing I was dreading was finally happening. It meant it was going to be over soon. The act in itself wasn’t unpleasant, for the most part. That was what madeit easy for Nick to blackmail me into keeping quiet. He told me that I enjoyed it. He never left any marks on me, unless he was angry at me. The hours and minutes leading up the abuse was when I hated myself for what was about to happen, and how I couldn’t stop it, and why I couldn’t tell anyone what was going on behind the closed door of my bedroom.

I heard Gerard’s familiar footsteps coming down the wooden staircase, dissipating my trip down memory lane . The hollow steps made his every step sound louder, the even pace a countdown to what was always the inevitable. I swallowed nervously, took in a quick, sharp breath. My nails were digging into the palm of my hands, the pain relieving some of the pounding fear pulsing through my body. When he finally stepped outside, I wished I hadn’t seen him at all.

He looked awful. It made my breath catch in my throat from the shock, my eyes automatically blinking in a double take in disbelief. I knew straightaway that he’d been on a bender. He had the look of a drunk, though his steps were way too steady for him to still be too inebriated. He obviously hadn’t cleaned up after his binge. His hair was greasier than ever, his skin a greyish kind of sickly colour. His eyes were bloodshot, his eyelids rimmed with red that looked sore. He hadn’t gotten much restful sleep – his dark circles were almost black, and for a second I wondered if he’d gotten a punch to the face. His eyes were on me instantly. He straightened up, and with a deft hand, he pulled his packet of Marlboro red and a lighter out of his coat pocket. He walked down the steps steadily, lighting the cigarette as he came closer to me.

He reeked of beer, and what I thought was whiskey. It covered up the scent that I associated with his presence, which was a heady mix of paint and deodorant. I almost took a step back when he approached me, but I knew it wouldn’t be the smartest move to make. He was staring at me as he took a first drag, his long fingers keeping a firm grip on the stick as he appraised my appearance and waited for a response.

“What did you do?” I asked, unable to keep the lick of anger I felt out of my voice.

I berated myself the second the words were out of my mouth. Anger wasn’t going to help or fix this, though truthfully, I didn’t know what I could say or do to help him. I didn’t know the words to say to get what I felt across, or to convince him that what he had done was downright idiotic. In all the time I’d known Gerard, he had talked about his struggles with alcohol. I knew it had been a hard battle for him to reach a point where he could remain sober. He had almost lost his job over it, and many a relationship, over his need to drink to the point of blacking out. His relationship with Mikey had suffered, and Mikey had all but cut Gerard out of his life when Gerard had refused all of Mikey’s attempts to help him. By the time he had accepted that he needed help, he was on the brink of eviction, and on his last warning in work. Gerard had almost lost everything because of his addiction, but he had pulled himself back from the brink of total destruction. He had fought hard for his sobriety, and now, all that he had struggled for, all the tears and pain he had suffered to get to the point where he could get through his days without the bitter taste of alcohol to get him though, had been thrown away.

“Do you care?”

The bitterness was thick in his hoarse voice. He had every right to be pissed with me. I knew and acknowledged that, and the knowledge that his current backwards step into old habit was my fault stabbed me keenly. I wasn’t going to let it overwhelm me, though. Giving into the guilt, allowing it to fester and spill over in the moment, was only going to make this harder.

Looking back, it’s hard to decipher what it was that sparked the sudden coldness, a kind of peace and acceptance that washed over me. Maybe it was the pain in his eyes that made me want to cringe and hide. Maybe it was the way he looked, so broken and defeated, like he’d been crushed and tossed aside by life too many times. The detached way he smoked his cigarette, with no real care or meaning involved. Maybe it was the shred of hope that was hidden underneath the pain and anger he was directing at me. Like he wanted me to be able to comfort him, to make amends for the wrong I had committed against him. There was a height of expectation, one that had been on my shoulders all along but that I had ignored until now. I retreated back into an old hiding place that I hadn’t visited in a long time. The cold wave was a physical metaphor for what was going on inside my head. I detached myself, much like I had done years ago. I couldn’t be what he needed me to be. I didn’t know how to be the person who could help pick up the pieces of another person’s life, no matter how much I wanted to be that person. It didn’t matter that I loved him, that I cared about him. I was a fuck up. I did nothing but hurt the people that matter to me, and for the first time, I could see that Gerard wasn’t as strong as he made everyone believe. Every wrong move I made would bring him down even more, and I didn’t want to be the person who made him go back down the dark path he had only just escaped.

“I think we need to talk.”

He didn’t react, at least not outwardly. He was keeping an even gaze on me, taking another drag, which was long and dramatic. When he exhaled, the haze of smoke that escaped came out in a steady stream from his mouth.

“Then talk.”

“Maybe we should get some coffee? Sit down somewhere.”

“Here is as good as any place.”

I held in a frustrated huff, agitation making me impatient.

“Gerard, I can’t do this anymore.”

His arm, which was moving to take another drag, froze in its tracks. The angered expression disappeared, replaced by bewilderment for a brief moment. Then, anger was quick to return. His eyes narrowed, and he threw his half smoked cigarette to the ground.

“Grace, it was a once off, okay? It won’t happen again.”

I just shook my head, taking a step back when he moved closer into my space. I couldn’t let him touch me; it would only break my resolve to do the right thing for once in my life. Because that’s what this was, even if it didn’t feel like it.

“No, Gerard, it won’t be. Not when I’m around. You’re gonna see that when you get a bit of space, just like I did. It’s for the best, Gerard.”

“It’s best for you, you mean. You have one good weekend with your boyfriend, and I’m tossed aside, like last week’s garbage? After everything, this is how you end it? No, that’s not how this works. You don’t get to do that. You can’t just walk away-”

“Yes, I can. That’s exactly what I’m doing. I’m walking away, and if you’re smart, you’ll do the same.”

I pivoted, determined to get away before the acrimonies were thrown around in the moment, but Gerard reached out with lightening speed, gripping my arm with a firm grip, that bordered on being too tight.

“You’re not just walking away from me, Grace. I deserve more than that. This isn’t just about you-“

“Gerard, let go!” my tone reminded me of a mother scolding a child, which was deceptively calm.

“At least talk to me about this.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Gerard. I choose Frank. You can say anything you want, but I’ve made up my mind.”

“Just like that?” he asked, almost incredulously, his voice tight.

“Just like that,” my voice somehow remained steady, and I met his gaze with what I prayed was a determined look.

He didn’t release his hold, his hazel eyes gleaming, sparkling in the dimming daylight, making them look almost green. His jaw was set tight, his teeth were gritting silently as he seemed to battle with himself.

“I choose Frank, Gerard,” I whispered.

He blinked, then recoiled, as though I’d burned him.

“It's better off this way,” I said with more conviction than I felt in that moment.

I gave him one last, sorry look, then I walked away, before I lost control of my emotions. I waited until I was safely away from Gerard’s penetrating stare,before I let the tears slip down my cheeks. I kept the mantra ‘I’m doing the right thing’ running through my mind, hoping that if I repeated it enough, my heart would stop breaking, and accept that I had made the right choice.

Notes

As always, I apologise for the gap in updates. Life and lack of motivation got in the way. I hope this chapter made up for my absence. And, before anyone sends me hate, this story isn't over yet. This is the half way point. So...who knows what's still in store.

Action Kitty (formerly Lyra) xxx