Cheryl

As she sat in her window watching the rain pelt the glass, she took a sip of her tea and thought of Him. She missed Him. She missed seeing Him on her screen. She missed His picture and His words.

She’d had better days and she had days where she felt utterly hopeless.

“He’s a piece of shit,” her best friend told her

“He’s an abuser.” another friend told her

“He’s being an ass. Why do you continue this friendship?”

“I don’t know,” she replied, “he means something to me.”

She sipped her tea, looking up to the sky. Would the rain ever end? How can one become so involved with someone they’ve never met? Emotionally she was exhausted. Physically she got up, she did her chores, she played with her cat, she shopped at her favorite grocery store. But…she was tired. She wanted resolution. She needed Him out of her system. She remembered what it was like before getting that first message.

She was in bed, old t-shirt, boxer shorts, pig tails, glasses and eye cream.

“Nice profile. How are you?”

It took her back. Her curiosity had been peaked. They became friends. He was funny, witty, clever and oddly enough incredibly sexy.

She found herself thinking impure thoughts of Him. She’d shake it off and make dinner for her husband.

The next day…he was there. She played with her mouse while sitting at her computer. Should she say hello? It wasn’t proper.

“How’s your day going?” she messaged

“Great!” he replied

They started whirlwind conversations speaking of stilton kisses, wine, music and their past. He was an open book, yet he was an enigma.

The rain continued to fall. “How did I get to this place?”
She thought of the day where she held 8 Vicodin in her hand. Tears fell out of her eyes like the rain falling from the sky. She tucked her hair behind her ear. She felt uncomfortable in her own skin as she pulled her old cardigan around her tighter.

She closed her eyes feeling the warmth of the mug on her hands. She dreamt of having tea with Him in New York, traveling to Europe, sitting on a picnic blanket eating stilton and drinking port wine.

And in an instant He was gone. She did miss Him. She missed feeling close to Him. She felt raped. Yet loved for the brief time they spent together.

It had been 5 months since she thought of ending her life. He was still an enigma. He was still a part of her life regardless of how warped it was. She needed Him to be apart of her life.

“Hey Sunshine. What’s shakin’?” he’d ask

“Hey precious,” she would reply, “how are you?”

“I’m great. Miss me?”

“Of course,” she answered

They would catch up and she felt light and airy. She would smile and go on about her day.

The next day. Nothing. She found herself trolling around His site.

“Stay away from the light!” she would tell herself

She shut the site down and moved onto something more important like eating chocolate. After the last bit of chocolate was ingested, she found herself circling her desk

Had He logged in? Did He miss her? Was He thinking of her? She held onto the hope that He was thinking of her. She made herself a cup of tea.

“It’s just a bad day,” she told herself

Before she knew it, she was messaging Him

“How’s your day?” she asked

Then she waited. And waited. And waited.

“Good.” was the response.

She felt utterly deflated

“Any plans for the weekend?” she couldn’t bear to let Him get away from her

She waited.

“No.”

She put her head in her hands. She was defeated. An empty vessel.

“Gotta run. Be good and take care.” He would say brushing her off

She went into the bathroom and looked at herself in the mirror. She tried to figure out why these things happen. Why do people exit a life as quickly as they enter? What’s the point? Was it the universe whispering to her? Was it fate? She didn’t know.

She thought of everything in her life. Her home, her husband, her friends. She was blessed and it was evident she didn’t appreciate her husband. How did she get to this place indeed.

She lived vicariously through her single friends. They talked of going out, having fun. Not having any ties to anything or anyone. Is that what she wanted?

Her husband was not apart of her life. He had his own life and she had hers. She thought they would grow old and gray together. The writing was on the wall. They would grow old and gray, just not together.

She inhaled and got up from her place. The rain continued to fall as she started working.

“Move on,” she told herself, “Nobody will take care of you. You have to take care of yourself. There is no white knight. There is no one.”

She believed in love so deeply, why wasn’t she experiencing it? What kind of joke was this? She was a hopeless romantic. That’s what it was. She expected too much. Nah, that wasn’t it. She wanted to be loved wholly and unselfishly.

Was it even possible?

The song 9 Crimes by Damien Rice popped into head. It seemed the tale of her entire life. It was a beautiful song. “Leave me out with the waste, this is not what I do. It’s the wrong kind of place to be thinking of you. It’s the wrong time, with somebody new, it’s a small crime and I got no excuse. Is that alright?”

She wiped another tear from her eye.

“I’m home!” her husband yelled

“Hi!” she yelled back

She made her way downstairs

She wanted love. Craved it. Wanted to feel someone touch her and inhale her. Stroke her hair and tell her she was wonderful.

“God what a day,” her husband said putting his keys down

“Good or bad?” she asked

“Bad,” he said, “I’m tired.”

“Yeah. Me too,” she said

“So…what’s for dinner?”

She shrugged. “Haven’t got that far yet.”

“I’ll just get a bite out,” he said

She nodded. He kissed her on the cheek and went into the office to check his emails.

She leaned on the door frame thinking of the memories in this house. Good, bad and indifferent. It was all changing before her.

She thought of Him. For a fleeting moment she thought, “ I know He’s thinking of me.”

Her husband came out of the office. “You look like shit.”

She smiled a small smile and headed back upstairs. She looked in the mirror again. She looked worn out. She was worn out.

“I’ll be back later!” he yelled up the stairs

“Okay!” she yelled back

She heard the front door close and she slid down the wall in her bathroom, buried her face in her hands and wept.

“Why couldn’t someone just love me. Just love me. No strings. Just smiles and laughter. Why?” she cried to herself

She heard Him whisper in her ear. “Doesn’t exist.”

“Of course it exists,” she told Him

“Love is relative.”

“Love can’t be quantified. It’s something you feel,” she said to His spirit

“Bullshit. Love is pain.”

“I agree. But it’s beautiful and pure and good.”

“It’s a pain in the ass.” He sneered in her ear

“I don’t believe that.”

“Then what is it, that you *do* believe?” He asked her

“I believe that there is great love.”

“Then why don’t *you* have it?”

“I don’t know,” she said

“Love is a waste of time.”

She shook her head violently. “No!”

“I don’t have it and I’m doing great.”

“You don’t have it and you are a lost soul.”

“Baggage free.”

“Empty.” she retorted

“No ties.”

“Alone.”

“I can do what I want, when I want to.”

“A sad, sad existence.” she said

Her cat came up to her and rubbed against her leg.

“This is love,” she told His spirit

“It’s a cat.”

“Doesn’t matter. This cat loves me.”

“Well if all you have to show for love is a cat. Then I’m better off.”

“You are cold.” she said

“Maybe. But you’ll never see me sitting on the bathroom floor crying about someone you will never have.”

That made her cry harder.

She stopped herself. “No! I don’t need you. I don’t need your cynicism.”

“That’s my girl,” He said

She stood up, dried her eyes and blew her nose. She looked at herself in the mirror one last time and brushed her hair. She took off her cardigan and hung it up on the hook.

“Love is good. Love is there. Love is amazing when you have it. I just don’t have it right now. But. I have myself. I can let this defeat me or I can take it and make it work for me. I’ll be alone, but I won’t be lonely.”

“Good girl,” His spirit said

‘Thanks,” she said

“Anytime Sunshine.”

She picked up her cat and went back downstairs in the kitchen and made herself dinner. She lit a candle and poured a single glass of wine.

“You want to join me?” she asked the cat

The cat looked at her. She put the cats dish on the chair next to her and they both enjoyed their meal. Alone. But they weren’t. They had each other.