Roman, I Love You

Slipping into a Sleepsong

A couple of days passed with little excitement except for the constant ongoing battle between self-preservation and self-destruction. Every day it became more difficult to resist the urge to reach into my drawer and draw out the box with all of my precious blades. There was a constant yearning and every time I entered the house it grew and every time I looked at Roman's jacket on my dresser it burned. One of the nights it was not just his jacket that burned me, but his voice. I did not recognize the number on my phone; however, I picked it up anyway.

"Scarlett Summer," was his only reply when I greeted him.

"Roman," I breathed into the phone.

"How are you?" His voice was low and commanding.

"I-I'm fine, Roman."

"I have to attend a company party next weekend. Would you care to accompany me?"

"Oh, Roman, I don't know..." I trailed.

"Don't be shy, I'll pick you up at 7:30."

"I don't know if I should," I confessed.

"I have a dress if you would like..." he tried.

"No, I'll dress myself thank you," I said a little bit too curtly.

"So you'll come then," It was not a question is more of a finality as if the decision was made and I could not help but feel like I had been tricked into it.

"I-I," I sighed, "I'll see you at seven thirty Roman."

"Great." I could hear the triumph in his voice. "Goodnight Scarlett Summer, dream about me."

"Goodnight Roman." Was my only response, but I did in fact dream of him that night much to my dismay.

Days passed slowly as I waited for each of them to end, but when one ended another began and the cycle repeated. I could feel that unnamed sinking weight in the pit of my stomach pulling me down. By then end of the week I was just about willing to do anything for it to go away. That is how I found myself at a bar. I knew I could not get drunk and forget everything else, because there was no one to watch me. I tried to let go. The bar was crowded and music played. Happiness seemed to flow all around me, but it did not reach me. I could almost tangibly feel the happiness as if it were a real person poking at me trying to wiggle its way in. But how could I let it in, when I did not deserve to feel the way everyone around me did.

Suddenly, the "pokes" of happiness were from a finger and instead of touching my whole body it was just my shoulder. I turned around and was met with face with a man who looked like he was in his thirties and approaching his forties. He was an attractive man with sandy brown hair and a shot of gray through his hair. He was tall too, maybe not as tall as Roman, but he dwarfed me, granted I was not wearing heels.

"How are you tonight miss?" He greeted and I picked up a slight foreign accent.

"Oh, you know, just enjoying a night out after work." I smiled up at him shyly.

He laughed and nodded, "I understand that. Tell me, is a pretty girl like yourself enjoying your night alone?"

I nodded wordlessly looking at my feet then looking back up to meet his eyes. They were blue, but instead of the vivid color of the sea they were the clear color of a river, easy to read and what I found in them was curiosity.

"Um, yeah." I answered eventually.

"Well since you're far too attractive to be all alone may I ask you to dance?" He offered his hand out to me.

My eyes darted back and forth between his eyes and his outstretched hand multiple times before I finally took it with an intake of breath. He grinned and pulled me onto the dance floor with the rest of the people dancing and drinking. There were no flashing lights or intoxicating aura, but it was all the same: I was in the middle of a room full of people and I just danced.