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Printed from https://shop.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1387328-pushing-myself
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Relationship · #1387328
a tale of making it better
it was two in the morning, the pub was closing and all the sounds of the arguments and baseball games began to settle in the background. it was stressful and strange the way the evening was becoming morning all over again. it felt like the days were blending into one another like watercolors, wet, bleeding into every corner of the page. everything felt really loose and strange. the way his words just echoed in her ears. it didn't matter anymore that she didn't have money for the taxi and all the buses had stopped running. it was more or less the feeling of abandonment that kept her locked inside her mind. she couldn't shake it out of her head... the voices, the lies, the games, the sudden realization that he was gone. it was about twenty six steps to the door and out into the bitter cold of the night. and even though she was wearing no jacket, it didn't so much matter anymore. she felt outside of her body watching herself through a frosted window... fuzzy, hard to make out exactly what she was doing and where she was going. that song kept playing over and over in her head. the words would drip into her ears as if she were actually hearing them. and they made her head ache. don't build your world around volcanoes melt you down. she wanted to see him so badly and yet she knew she couldn't bear it. it wasn't so much what he said to her. it was the way he said it. with disgust and hatred. after three years she thought he might have loved her. tears gathered in her eyes and she knew it would be a long walk home.



"are you okay?" she heard the voice in the distance but was too drunk to make out the figure behind her. she just kept walking.

"amie, amie! are you okay?" by that time, the figure had reached her and she recognized the voice, but was too tired to actually look up and see who it was.

"i'm fine."

"would you like a ride home?" amie could see the person's shoes. ballet. small feet. must be a girl from work, she thought. finally she looked up.

"um... sure. yeah. where's your car?"

"it's right down here." she turned to the left down eighteenth street. her silver volkswagon was parked close by. the two girls jumped in and began heading for amie's apartment.

"are you okay, you don't look so good."

"no. i'm fine. i'm just a little drunk, that's all. i just really want to go home."



the streets seemed longer than usual, the houses seemed to never end. it was all spinning inside of her head and she just sat there wondering when she would ever feel normal again. there were noises on the street and they all made her head ache even more. the girl sitting next to her was a stranger and yet she felt close to her as if she had known her her entire life. the car smelled like pink frosting. nora just kept looking over at amie. amie sunk deeper into her chair and tried to close her eyes. the car continued to speed down the seemingly endless turns. there was a faint hum of music in the background. amie hadn't noticed it before but with every second, she could finally make out the words to the songs, which only enfuriated her even more.



"can you turn off the radio, please?" she asked politely while avoiding eye contact by looking out into the street.

"yeah, sure. sorry." nora turned the dial all the way to the left until it clicked into it's usual off position.

"are you working tomorow?"

"i'm not really sure."

"oh. well, i can check for you if you would like. i can call you tomorow."

"sure. if you want." her voice was passive and disinterested. she really didn't care about work. or nora. but her bed was sounding all the more desirable. in fact, she wasn't going to work the next day. at least she didn't want to.



the car pulled up in front of a white house with a brown fence. it was a lovely house. amie had fallen in love with it from the moment she saw it. trees decorated the front and back yards. there were vines, bushes, roses, tulips, jasmine. everywhere. it was her sanctuary. they built it together, made it their artistic domain. i hate this house, she thought. his ghost would haunt the entire place. she just knew it. one deep breath and she stumbled out of the car, mumbling something that resembled an apology and a thanks mixed together. the cobblestone path up to the front door was making her eyes do somersaults in the back of her head so she just closed her eyes and walked as straight as she could. she heard the silver volkswagon speed away and her key was having an awfully hard time finding it's way into the key hole. shit.

it was eight o'clock. the sun had already set and her phone had been ringing for over an hour. she didn't realize where she was and went to the bathroom to wipe her face. i missed work again. elanor's gonna kill me. but she didn't really care. the t.v. was on and she could hear a voice coming from the kitchen. she wrapped herself into her robe and walked cautiously toward the familiar voice.



"i know... i'm leaving soon... i just had a couple of things to pick up... yeah... i know... don't worry about it... everything's fine..." he was talking on the phone when he realized she had woken up and was indeed standing right in front of him. her hair was in a sloppy ponytail and her make up was still on her face from the night before. "i gotta go," he said into the telephone. "i'll call you later." the phone snapped shut and he just stood there with regret for being there.

"i was just getting some stuff that i left here."

"what are you doing here?" she asked obviously angry at his presence.

"i just told you. i left some of my stuff here. i came to pick it up."

"you don't live here."

"the door was unlocked."

"you should have knocked."

"i did. and i rang the bell. i waited fifteen minutes, i knew you were home, your car was in the driveway. i thought something might have happened. when i came in, you were in bed, i didn't want to wake you. i'm leaving, so don't worry about it."

"just get out of my house, okay?" she said in a faint voice. he walked to the door with his possesions in hand. one foot onto the ground below and he looked behind.

"i'm sorry. what i said to you last night. and i know you don't believe me, but it's true. i wanted you to know that. i did love you." and then he walked out. she watched him walk away. analyzed every foot step he made onto that cobblestone path. and then she slammed the door, tears spilling down her face.






she walked through the house finding everything that reminded her of him and threw it all into boxes. every book, every photo, every painting and all the smells. candles, incense, his cologne still there in the medicine cabinet. all the emotions just thrown into the boxes on the floor. her tears continued to spill just as quickly as they could gather themselves into her eyes. her heart broken she reached for the bottle of rum in the back of the pantry closet. his name and face she couldn't seem to shake from the front of her mind. another bottle gone and her mind was beginning to give her some release from the forceful hatred she had for his very soul. she was going out again. maybe she would meet someone that would take advantage of her in every way that she wanted at that moment. someone she would never ever see again. but she couldn't get her feet to move from where they were standing.




she remained on the couch for the next three days. bottles of liquor decorated the spaces around her. her brain was reeling into another universe. reality didn't exist anymore. all she wanted was to dissapear although that wasn't possible. by ten o'clock she was staring at herself in the mirror. water came pouring onto her head as she opened the faucet in the shower. she threw on the green skirt she hadn't worn in years and the black tank top she had always had good luck when wearing. slipped on the black slippers and grabbed her keys off the stool by the front door. the house was nearly empty. she was going to redecorate the house. eliminate all signs of that disgusting beast who had stolen three years from her life.


she found herself at someone's door. she wasn't quite sure why she was there. it seemed like her car wanted to be there more than she did. it was going to be disasterous. but that didn't really matter so much anymore. she looked good, at least it was that much. her fist began to pound on the door. three times. the door opened and there he was. shirtless, nevertheless. her eyes seemed shocked. and he could see it.





"hi," he said. she seemed as shocked as he was that she was standing in his doorway.


"hi," she said back. "can i come in?"

"um, sure." he stood to the side and let her walk in and take off her jacket hanging it up on the coat rack by the door. she just looked around at his apartment without even acknowledging his presence. "um, amie," he said to her. she just continued to walk further into the house.

"uh, yeah. hey, you really changed it up in here. it's really nice."

"yeah, hey, amie..." she turned around and looked him in the eyes.

"i know. i'm sorry, i just... i had to see you." tears gathered themselves in her eyes again.

"don't worry about it, hey wanna a drink. i've got lots of drinks. i guess that's what i've always been good for." he laughed to himself quietly.


"are you still with heather?"

"no, we broke up a while ago. after you left, i think."

"really?! huh. i'm sorry."

"don't be. i'm not. so what'll it be? rum, as usual?"

"actually do you have any wine?"

"wine?! huh, you hate wine."

"yeah, well all i've drank for three straight days is rum. i'm kind of craving some wine right now. you always have wine."

"yes, i do. red or white?"

"what do you think?"

"red it is then."




she was sitting on his brown leather sofa staring at the pictures on the walls. he joined her with two glasses of red wine. the glasses were large and she knew she was exactly where she wanted to be. his face had changed a little bit. he had glasses. black plastic rimmed glasses. it made him look smart. and sexy. he was now wearing a shirt. his hair had grown out a little bit. she liked it, she had decided. that cologne, so familiar. she was missing him already. she had missed him for three years, but that didn't so much matter anymore. they were here. together. finally. a smile crept onto her face as she watched him carefully. even when he spoke it brought a familiar picture to her mind. she loved hearing him talk. he had this way of captivating people with the tone in his voice. deep, dark, subtle, and so entirely convincing. he would read to her before she went to bed. it made her feel safe. and he loved to read. everything from hemminway to steinbeck and everything in between. there were book shelves from the floor to the ceiling. they completely lined the entire wall which she was now staring at from her seat on his brown leather sofa.



"so, are you going to tell me why you're here now?"

"what do you mean?"

"maybe you should begin by telling me who broke up with who." she smiled and dropped her head. paused. then she took another sip of her wine.

"actually, he dumped me. in public. at the pub."

"wow. he always was a bit of a drama queen."

"yeah, hah. actually, i kind of always knew he was cheating on me. for a few weeks he had been working kind of late and then there were some of his stories that weren't adding up just right. i confronted him about it one day and he denied everything, told me i was being paranoid. so i didn't bring it up again. i didn't want to be one of those crazy annoying paranoid girlfriends. then one day he said that he was going to be working really late. he had a new project and the deadline was closing in on them, so my girlfriend from work asked me to go to the pub with her. and guess who was there.

"mark"

"yeah. and there was this... girl. she was all over him, so i walked up to him and asked him what he was doing there. who she was. he just... flipped out on me. he told me that they had been seeing eachother for a while. that it was really over between me and him. that i don't 'get' him and am holding him back from his real work. he couldn't create anything new with me hanging around, he didn't love me anymore and i was just a roadblock and he was glad he ran into me, that i could see him like that because now he didn't have to wonder how he was going to tell me that he was leaving me. he told me to not call him anymore and he would come pick his stuff up in the morning. and then they left. just like that, they just walked out. i have made excellent friends with the ten bottles of rum over the past three days."

"damn. amie, i'm really sorry."

"yeah. but i think i kind of new this was going to happen one day. i mean he was seriously borderline narcissitic. i think i just kept pretending like maybe he really loved me deep inside and maybe he's just emotionally stunted to the point where he has a hard time admitting it to me. i don't know what's wrong with me!"

"wow, you haven't changed at all."

"what do you mean?!"

"don't get deffensive!"

"i'm not!"

"you just always create this image of your relationships. you invent a person that doesn't exist. then when things get sour you wonder where in the world that came from. it's what you did with me."

"josh, that's not true."

"yeah, it is. and things got too real, and you ran. all four times."



she just sat there in silence. the clock began to chime. that huge clock in the corner. she always loved that clock. it reminded her of home. sometimes she would just lay on that couch and watch the pendulum swing back and forth. back and forth. it would lull her to sleep. her grandmother had a clock like it in her living room. and whenever she felt sad she would lie on his couch and watch that clock as if it would instantly make her feel happy again. happy and back in her grandmother's living room. and there it was. still in the corner of the room making her feel safe. for the first time in three years, she felt safe again. she took another sip of her wine and stared at that clock.



"yeah. i know. and i always miss you and come running back. when things get too real. like you are just going to catch me from falling out of the sky."

"and i always do." she paused for a while.


"i should go."

"what?"

"yeah, i'm really sorry, josh." she put the glass down and grabbed her coat and walked towards the door as quickly as she could. her feet kept tripping over themselves and he began running after her.

"amie, where are you going?"

"you know, i shouldn't have come here. i shouldn't come here when i need someone to love me. because i always know that you will. you always do. you always love me. and i just take advantage of it. of YOU. and i hate that i do this to you. i promise you josh, i will NEVER do this to you again. i'm so sorry. i'm leaving now. it's been fun-"

"amie!" he grabbed her arm. "you're not going anywhere." she began to cry.

"you're absolutely right, josh. i do it everytime. i just freak out, you know? and i need to assure myself that i'm still loved. and then we get back into this thing and then... i just leave. out the door again. and i'm not going to do it anymore." then he kissed her. the kiss she had become so familiar with.

"don't leave. look, i know what this is. i've always known what this is. but, i would rather have you in my life, even just for a moment, than not at all, okay?" she stopped and looked at him for a while. "i'll sleep on the couch tonight. just... don't go, stay here tonight. stay as long as you like. and then when you feel like you're finally okay, then you can leave. you don't want to be alone right now."

"no, i don't want to be alone anymore." she looked at her feet. "okay, i'll stay."

"good." there was a smile on his face.

she always loved him. but she could never admit it to herself. they were walking down the street in the city. it was somewhere close to midnight. maybe a bit after. it was freezing outside and she walked closer to him to keep herself warm. the air was thick and heavy and the more she thought about her words, the harder they were to speak. her arm was tucked tightly into his and she wanted so desperately to just keep walking forever. but whe couldn't keep herself from speaking them.

"mark called"

"oh yeah?"

"yeah. he invited me to dinner last night and i went." his grip on her began to loosen.

"you went?"

"yes."

"and..."

"he wants to take it serious now." he let go of her completely.

"and you said yes." he stopped walking at that point and just stared at her."

"what was i suppossed to say? we had been waiting for this for a long time."

"YOU'VE been waiting for this for a long time."

"yeah, but what about heather, huh? i mean, we can't dream forever, right? being locked in this fantasy? you know it won't work and i love him, i always have. what am i suppossed to do?"

"what are you talking about? amie, you know what? i'm really sick of this. i'm tired of the games and i don't want to do this anymore."

"tired of what?"

"you know what? things aren't going to change. YOU keep pretending with HIM that it's gonna work out and then you end up right back here. you know what? just go, okay! go! i don't want to see you anymore, i just can't deal with this right now. get your stuff out tomorow, okay?"

"josh!"

"goodbye amie!" and then he walked away.



she woke up in a sweat trying to wash away the remnants of her bad dream. the door creaked open and she took four footsteps to the couch where josh was laying. he sat up and she sat down beside him. her hair was in her face and he pushed it behind her ears. there was this feeling in her stomache. and it bothered her deeply. her mind was telling her to get up and walk back inside. but her heart wanted to be there. and she was so afraid. afraid of what might happen. and afraid of loosing him again.

"i don't want to be by myself right now."
"that's okay."
"will you read to me? a story?"
"sure, what would you like to hear?"
"the sun also rises. that's my faivoret."
"okay." he got up from the couch and walked over to the book shelf right in the middle. on the top shelf was a very old copy of hemmingway's novel. he couldn't remember how many times he would read to her from that book. then, he sat back down and she layed up against his chest as he read to her. slowly, gently, delicately. his voice... and it lulled her to sleep.

the next morning she woke up on the sofa. the radio was on and the sun was shining brightly through the huge glass doors on the side of the house. the blanket was on the floor and josh was in the kitchen making blueberry waffles. he always made blueberry waffles when amie came to visit him. it made her feel at home again. and he knew it, deep inside, that he would always be the wine and blueberry waffles kind of guy. he would be there to save her from her bad relationships, her stressful job. whatever she needed him for, he would be there. and he didn't mind it. at least she was there. coffee was made and orange juice was on the table. she pushed the blanket to the side and stood up, stretching



"well goodmorning"

"you're making breakfast?"

"blueberry pancakes and bacon. your faivoret"

"wow, that sounds really good!"

"coffee?"

"yes! please!"

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