MAY, 2017.
I'm not going to listen.
No way. I can't. It'll only hurt too much.
I sit at my laptop in my kitchen, just staring at the page. It's right there.
All I have to do is click play.
But, I shouldn't.
I huff, picking my phone up and dialing Blair's number.
She'll know what to do.
"Don't listen to it, Monet."
"But, Blair..." I pout to myself.
"Monet, you know what happens after. You listen to it and then you start crying and then you miss him and then you're calling him or showing up at his house. It's not good. You need to let him go."
"But it's my fault. I just want to—"
"Don't you think there's a reason why you chose Wesley over him?"
"I didn't choose Wes—"
"Monet, as much as you think it's your fault, it's just as much his. Dating him wasn't good for you. He never made you feel good enough and you said that to me yourself. He was always gone and never made the time. What makes you think it'll be different this time?"
"We're older...we're...we're..."
"You deserve to be happy. So don't listen to it and go to bed."
You deserve to be happy. Ha.
What if my happiness lies with him?
I open Twitter.
Bad idea.
'If this album don't bring Marry back together I don't believe in love.'
'Thinking about how Sweet Creature, Only Angel, AND From the Dining Table are all about MONA!!!'
'Harry is still in love with Mona, and the proof is in From the Dining Table.'
'Everyone is talking about From the Dining Table but not enough people are talking about the fact that H used to call Mona his sweet creature and he has a song named Sweet Creature where he literally fucking says 'but we're still young' and 'wherever I go you bring me home' and Mona used to travel w him because he felt more at home. I hate my life.'
'I'm sorry but Woman?? Is literally?? About?? Mona?? And Wesley???'
'This album bleeds "I miss Soleil Monet Monroe" and it hurts me to see how much pain he's in.'
'Someone get these people back together.'
I shut my phone off and swallow hard.
So he did write about me.
Fuck it.
I click play and sit back, shutting my eyes.
-
So, maybe I made a mistake.
It's currently 3am and I am on my third run through, crying my entire heart and soul out. Each time I hear him sing the songs about me, it only gets worse.
Who's to say they're even about me?
But it's so damn obvious. I just don't want to seem narcissistic.
I have wine now. Okay, had. I may be halfway done with the bottle. It only brings out the emotions more.
Everything is so dizzy and blurry. But it doesn't stop me. No matter how much it should.
Because I can feel myself scrolling to his contact.
I shouldn't.
"This is Harry, leave a message at the beep."
"H?" I sniffle, my words are slurred. "H, I...I just listened to the new album for like the third time. I've had some wine but I promise, I think about you when I'm sober, too. I think about you all the time. I want to say those songs are about me but...they're probably not. I hope they're about me, to be honest. I just...I miss you. I really do. I'm so stupid. I should've never let this happen to you. To us. I miss your voice and I miss you so much. I'm so—"
The voicemail cuts me off with a single beep.
I drop my phone beside me and press my head against the hardwood floor I'm lying on.
And I'm out.
-
I have the worst headache ever.
Wine hangovers are always the worst. Because they're such a slow burn.
I'm in my bed. I could have sworn I passed out on my living room floor.
Maybe my cat dragged me here. Wherever the hell she is.
Opening my eyes is the worst part. The light is way too bright for me right now. I wince at it as I try to sit up.
"Oh, you're up." Blair says as she leans against the doorway.
"I don't feel...up." I grumble, pinching the bridge of my nose.
"There's Advil and water on your nightstand." She tells me as she sits on the edge of my bed.
I grab the bottle and down three pills, praying it kicks in soon. I lean against my headboard and sigh heavily.
"I did a bad thing, Blair."
Blair laughs, patting my legs.
"I know, babe. That's why I came over. When I saw you on your floor clutching a bottle of wine with your phone next to you and his album on your laptop, I knew some shit went down."
"Are you mad?" I sheepishly ask.
A child. I am a child.
"Mona, you're a grown ass woman. I'm not mad you drunk dialed your ex. We all do it." She snorts with a shrug.
It then hit me, I drunk dialed him. Which means he heard my embarrassing voicemail.
But that could also mean he replied.
"Where's my phone?" I blurt out.
Blair fishes it out of her pocket and I take it, quickly checking my notifications.
I frown. Nothing.
"He didn't bite?" She raises a brow.
"No. Maybe it's London time." I try to reassure myself.
"He's in LA, babe." Blair quietly informs me.
I feel my heart crack in half. He woke up this morning, saw my voicemail, and didn't do anything.
I should have expected it, though. He's upset with me. I ditched him for a mess of a boyfriend.
"I'm sure he wants to say something but doesn't know what to say."
"I guess." I fiddle with my fingers.
He's in LA.
Is he living here?
What if I run into him?
"Come on," Blair pulls me up, "This calls for retail therapy."
-
A couple shopping bags down the road and I still feel like crap. I mean, I can't be mad he didn't call back or even text. That's the last thing he should do.
I'm a bad person.
Blair started to notice this wasn't doing any good, so she offered to take me home. I accepted because I'd much rather be in bed.
I shouldn't let him affect me like this.
He's gone.
When I get home, Blue greets me. I shoot her a smile and drop my bags down. I feed her then throw a bag of popcorn in the microwave.
I turn to some random channel as I sit on the couch with a blanket and my laptop. Blue eventually joins me, snuggling beside my leg.
"At least I have you." I softly tell her.
Said like a crazy cat person.
There's a knock at my door. I let out a groan. If it's anyone I know they can use the spare key.
But they knock again.
I know I have to get it. So, I push everything to the side and get up, making my way to the door.
"Chill out, I'm coming."
I flip the locks and open the door to see someone standing on my front step.
I could be sick or faint. Maybe both at the same time.
***
Mona: nah i can't do it. i cannot listen to this album.
Also Mona: yo turn this bitch up!