done took off..
Fucking with some college graduate, punk ass..
Abercrombie wearing mother fucker..
Left me broken hearted, in the Chevy.
It's all good though.. you know why?
I got ME, bitch.
So, I've come out of my funk a little--probably due to my recently having been reminded that there is, indeed, sex after Christene, and it's not bad at all--and you maybe deserve a less cryptic run-down of recent events. Here it is in a nutshell:
I came home to WA bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, on a big pink cloud of sobriety and ready to take life by the horns. Christene and I parted on loving, tender terms, and even now my heart melts a little thinking of the tears that she cried into my chest, begging me not to leave, telling me that I could still stay and that she would pay my mother back for the Greyhound tickets. My entire bus ride home was spent deep in the throes of home-sickness--not for Washington, but for my love's ice-blue eyes, the beautiful swell of the hips I loved to run my fingertips over, the thighs I loved to kiss..
When I got home, we spoke of me possibly going to smoke heroin, because it had been so long. I decided that unless my homie made it very easy for me, I would not go; I felt too good about sobriety, and more than anything I wanted to keep my promises (and also, at this point, wedding vows--which Christene had also written for me, not just me for her) to Christene, which was always easier when I was sober. Well, as fate would have it, it was very easy; there was a ride and everything.
I got high. I talked to Christene throughout, and for a couple of days it was okay. I went to a friend's house, my homie Matt, who didn't have a phone or a computer. I didn't have a ride back to my mother's house, but I could have gotten there if I had tried a little harder.. I just didn't really want to go there at the time. Three days passed, and I returned to my mother's house to kick drugs for a minute.
I wrote Christene a text. I had missed talking to her very much, and wanted very badly to do so. I remember now that one of the things she first said was "Oh baby, I wish you had called me.. :(" which didn't really make sense at the time.
We had written wedding vows to each other, as I mentioned before. I don't have hers sitting in front of me, but one of them was basically:
"I will always be nothing but true, everyone will know that I am yours and only yours. Your wife."
Remember that, as we continue.
If you're reading this, maybe you have read the entry(s) that I wrote about Christene before. If you did, you know how I feel about her, and how I have felt about her. I wrote the entry about how she was "something to lose," the only thing I had to lose, on the night that I came back to my mother's. I stayed there a few days, but left again to live the way that I have always lived.. like a rolling stone. I hustled up some money to pay my warrants, but partied on much of it, and before long I was broke and Christene was on her way back from South Carolina.
I was ecstatic. I couldn't wait to see her. My sunshine was coming back, and the world would be in order again soon. On the day of her return, I didn't have a chance to check my Facebook until her sister was already in the bus station parking lot, waiting for her. I got a ride, and when Christene was with her sister, I called. "Hey baby," I said, grinning despite myself. "I missed you so much! You're back!"
She was less than thrilled to talk to me, since I wasn't there to get her when she had gotten off the bus. She asked me to get some heroin and bring it to her at her sister's house. It took me about two hours to hook it up, and I went to Snohomish to see Christene, my heart racing as I pulled into the parking lot of her sister's apartments. I held her tight when I got out of the car, though the air was tense and she was not as happy as I would have liked. We went inside, and we smoked the drugs I had brought. I told her that I was getting sick off of the heroin now, and she was disappointed.
We made love. As we lay in bed afterward, the fog of much-needed sleep creeping into my thoughts, she confessed something to me.
"Baby.. I have to tell you something, okay? When you didn't call me for those three days, and I was in South Carolina.. I slept with someone."
Never mind the wedding vows. Never mind that I had been true to her. Ouch.
I stayed at her sister's for two days, and that fact gnawed at me. Where there had been conviction and steel before, my love burning bright and declared to the world on my blog entries and my Facebook, in my life and among my friends, it felt cheap and hollow. My vows, which I had poured my heart into and taken pride in, carried with me everywhere that I went, were meaningless.. because she had broken hers. It had taken maybe a week after I had left South Carolina. Forever had become eight days. I was angry. She told me that if I were to continue smoking drugs, we would not be able to be together. I was bitter, and I told her to fuck off. I was not returning to my mother's. She backpedaled a little, and said that we could still be together, but that I had to work on my problem.
I promised her that I would look into inpatient treatment, and I did. We made plans for a couple of days later, that Friday. I made an extra twenty dollars, and offered to take her to the movies. She said that she would get ready at her sister's baby's dad's house, and I killed a couple of hours and called her.
She didn't answer. I called a couple of more times; no answer. I texted her sister's phone, called it again. Her sister answered.
"Christene doesn't really want to talk right now," she said. "She.. doesn't know how to tell you that she doesn't want to be dragged back into your world right now," she told me. My heart sank, and a cold chill ran up my spine. "What do you mean?" I asked her, but I already knew. Stupid. Tears sprang to my eyes, and I hung up on Amber. I didn't know what to do. My friends all looked at me. "FUCK," I said loudly, and stared at the phone. "Fuck," I said again, and the tears fell down my cheeks.
I told her that I would get clean, that I would call her when I could be a positive influence in her life. She said that she would wait. I stopped smoking heroin that night.
She didn't wait. I wrote her messages on Facebook, telling her that I had begun the process of getting clean and that I didn't want to lose her. She didn't write back.
I took the hint, and realized that she was trying to leave me for good. I told her that I understood, though I didn't. Don't. I spent each day of my dope sickness hating myself and my life, wishing more than anything that I could just hold her and have her support, her laugh, her kisses. I remembered the days in South Carolina, those perfect, slow days. I remembered her calling me Turkey Moose. I remembered her having to move to the other bunk sometimes because I had restless legs, and me waking up halfway through the night and bringing her back to bed with me. I remembered the movies, Golden Corral on my birthday, telling her how much I loved her. I thought of all we had come through, and the odds we had beaten to stay together. Even now, I love her so much that it is difficult to think of closing this chapter of my life. But I have to. I know that she is a co-dependent girl, and I know that she is not alone right now, probably wasn't the day after I left her sister's. I know that that is what she has to do in order to forget me. It hurts, and I am beginning to do the same now. I told her that she should go and find happiness, that that would make me happy. It will. I just have to get through this slump so that I can find my own.. and I have begun to do that. I had the most amazing sex last night, and I didn't think that anyone but Christene would ever make me feel the way that I felt during that tryst again.
She said I know you gave me everything, but love is not enough, love is not enough, love is not enough.
So good luck, Christene. And good luck to myself, too. Merry Christmas, everyone.
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