Matt's POV:
I got off the phone with Emilee, angry tears spilling down. We just had a fight....again. She called me asking me whether she should go or not, and of course I didn't want her to. She started talking all about her friends back home and how she missed them, I just got more and more angry. Finally I told her she was staying here and that was final. Then she got pissed off because she hated when people (especially me) told her what to do. She ended the conversation with "Now I know which option I'm going to pick." Then hung up.
I threw my phone somewhere, I don't care where it went. I heard the sound of my phone hitting the wall and got even more angry...at myself. I had to pay for my own phone if I broke this one.
How could she just suddenly decide to leave like this??
I didn't understand if her life was so shitty back at home, why she just suddenly had to go back to it. She had me, she had Jane. We had a great town, a great beach, and I just didn't want her to leave.
If she left, I was stuck back here. With the same routine of going to school, listening to lectures, going home and listening to music, movies or books. With Emilee, I wanted to just go out and do stuff. I wanted to wake her up at 4am and break into an amusement park with her. I wanted to spontaneously bring her flowers. I wanted to lay in the park and be bitten to death by mosquitoes while I sang a song to her that I didn't even know was her favorite song.
Being with her was like drinking. I forgot all the shitty things that were happening, and just felt happy and stupid and awesome. Minus the horrible hangover.
And all I could do was listen to her leave.
I had to do it, I just had to.
I reached under my bed and pulled out the bottle (I started stashing up a while ago) and climbed out my window to the tent. Emilee's voice appeared in my mind, urgent and pleading "Please. Let me be a substitute for your alcohol.".
Well, you were leaving me. So now I have to go back.
I walked into the tent and zipped it up. Bubba was currently asleep on the living room couch, having just gotten sick in the backyard because he ate squirrel shit. Dumb dog. I smiled wryly at that thought.
Sitting in the same spot I did as usual, I opened the bottle and every single cell in my body screamed "YES".
I just realized, how much Emilee and I are alike. We both had an addiction, hers was cured. It was horrible to her, and it's horrible to me. But while we succumb to it, it must feel just so nice. To have something to turn to. To forget for a while.
"I'm sorry Emilee. I'm sorry I gave in. Have fun in California." I said angrily. Then I chugged, and as I did, my mind began to get fuzzy, thoughts slid down my mind like an icy slope, smooth.
I felt a smile come to my face, as images danced in my mind.
It felt great to be drunk again.