I watched the liquor rise up to the top of the cup and spill just a little on the table. With drowsy eyes, I stared at it, contemplating rather I should take on the drink or give myself a break. I went through three bottles and the effect has barely kicked in. I wanted to feel numb, as if my conscious itself wouldn't be able to stop me. I want to pass out, get away from the current agony I'm feeling. I wanted to go to sleep and wake up to a different outcome. I don't want to sit here and cry my troubles away on the kitchen floor and smashing cups on the ground. I wanted her gone. That's all. I just want everything to go back to normal.
I threw the cup on the floor, and watched it break into tiny bits of pieces. I cursed myself knowing I had to clean it up later on, along with the rest of the dishes, trash and items that were scattered around the house. Everything was a mess.
I was still in my work attire from yesterday. I didn't even dare to take it off or make the time to clean myself up. I mean why should I? It's not like I'm living with anyone to care enough to tell me how much of a fucking mess I look. Or to tell me to get off of my ass and get over myself. So why does it matter that there's stains all over my clothes and the strong stench of bourbon lingers around my body? Why does it all matter.
I ran my fingers through my hair and pulled at the ends, wanting to rip out every bit of it. Then my mind couldn't help but think of what Sierra would say if she saw me mopping around on the floor like this. There isn't a doubt she would take a seat right beside me and hold me, comforting me the best she can. Feeding me with her sweet words and caressing my hair as I lay my head gently on her lap, or bury my face in her shoulders so I could cry.
God, I miss her.
I miss touching her, I miss sleeping next to her, and I miss kissing her. I just wish I was given a small ounce of luck to see her face again.
A sudden knock came from the door, I was quickly brought back to reality. I checked the time on my phone, it read 11:56 p.m. I wasn't expecting any visitors or anyone in the matter to come to the house, I would assume people already know about the incident and claim that jeopardized my whole reputation and any other friendship or relationship I had with others. I was seen as the man who allegedly force himself on a woman, who could possibly be visiting me after that?
I dragged myself off of the floor with a bottle still in my hands. The person knocked three times before I swung the door open on them and yelled, "What?!" I was surprised to see Sierra standing in front of me. She stood there with her arms crossed over by her chest and a faint smile. I had to blink twice to make sure I'm actually standing right in front of her. I couldn't help but display a huge grin on my face. Did she really come to see me?
"Hey Michael, can I come in?" She said, sounding foreign acting as if this house didn't belong to her too. In fact her whole body language seemed uncomfortable, is my presence already a problem to her?
"Sure," I responded, opening the door widely for her to come in. She walked inside, her foot kicked an empty bottle on her way in. Her eyes traveled around the house and I could already read her thoughts out loud by the disgusted facial expression she displayed. "I didn't have time to clean," I said to her.
"That's very clear," she mumbled. She turned to face me, "How much have you drank?"
"Does it matter?" I boldly said.
"Okay," she ignored my response. "I've heard what happened," she then said. "At your job and I've heard the messages you sent me over the phone."
"I've called you like a hundred times. Why haven't you answered."
"Well my feelings towards you are still mutual. I needed time for myself. I wasn't ready to speak with you."
I scoffed, "I get it. But one call back wouldn't have hurt you." I took a sip of the bottle and walked over to the kitchen. "What you heard what happened isn't true, the bitch lied so she could get me fired that's all." I clarified before she went deep into interrogating me. "So you came all the way over here, to ask me about what happened at work instead of calling me?" I said from afar.
"I wanted to see how you were holding up. I was worried about you." She said sounding unpleased by the last question. "It seemed like you needed someone to talk to."
"Are you coming back?" I said the question that's been circling around in my head before she even came here.
"Michael when I left that night, I meant every word I said. You hurt me badly, there's no other reason for me to come back after that," she replied. She decided to finally sit down on the couch, as she nervously played with her fingers.
"We've been apart for a week or two, you don't have to act like that," I said getting a little upset that she was distancing herself from me and keeping space like I'm some kind of stranger.
"Act like what?"
"Like I fucking disgust you. Like you don't know me. I'm still your husband," I said from the counter. She turned her head away and stared at the ground. There was a moment of silence. "Do you think I did that to her?" The question itself came out unexpectedly from my mouth but I was curious to know if her perception of me changed like everyone else. If she actually believes the rumors that's been spreading around or not.
"I wasn't there to even know whether it happened or not, so I don't know," she responded. That was opposite of what I wanted to hear from her. I felt a heavy feeling of disappointment afterwards.
I laughed, "that's just another way of saying I did it." I placed the bottle back to my mouth.
"I didn't come here to argue or point fingers, if you say you didn't do it then I believe you but the way you're acting right now is unacceptable," She snapped shortly. "How are you feeling? Genuinely?" I don't know if she's asking rhetorically. The bottle in my hand and the landscape of mess surrounding me should be enough for her to put the puzzle pieces together and figure out how I'm doing. If the one person that I spent half of my life with can't even figure me out or see the pain I'm going through inside, then I've lost all hopes of bringing myself back to my normal state of mind.
"I'm great," I sarcastically said. "I mean take a look." I raised my arms up showcasing what was around me. "I got fired for something I didn't even do. I can't defend myself because no one seems to believe me. This house hasn't been clean since the day you left. I don't feel mentally stable and I hate myself. I can't fucking sleep Sierra! How the fuck do you think I'm doing?!" I raised my voice loud enough for my voice to bounce back from every angle of the house. My shoulders rose up from the frustration, but when I saw her blank startled expression, I felt bad for yelling. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have yelled like that. I just need help."
"It's okay, let's start with the living room first." She said getting up from the couch. I watched her pick up small pieces of trash from the ground. She made her way into the kitchen and did the same. After several minutes of cleaning everything from the floor, she stood in front of me with her hands on her hips. "What else you need done? And please don't drink in front of me," she said, taking the bottle from my hand and threw it in the trash.
"You don't need to do this," I spoke.
"You said you needed help and that's exactly what I'm here for. What else you need done?" She repeated herself.
I hesitantly thought through rather I should say my next words or not...."Hold me," I shortly said. "Before you came in here, I thought about drinking till I would collapse and black out. I need someone to hold and comfort me so I won't go back to that option," I admitted to her.
Momentarily, she stretched out her arms and took a few steps closer. She wrapped her arms around me firmly, my head collapsed on her shoulders and gripped her shirt tightly. At that moment, it took her embrace to cause me to break down completely into tears. I pushed her closely to me until there was no space between us. As I imagined in my thoughts earlier, her hands caressed my hair. I silently cried to her and she fed me with the same repeating words. "It's okay," she softly said. "Everything is okay."
"When was the last time you ate?" She asked afterwards. I shrugged, not even knowing the last time I attempted to cook after she left me. I've been putting together small foods in the house but it didn't come close to an acceptable meal. The only thing I've been indulging is alcohol. It's not like it's doing me any good anyways, I could feel my liver on the verge of giving up.
She insisted that I sit down at the dining room table while she fixed dinner for me. She gathered up several pots and pans. She found a box of spaghetti and cans of tomato paste. "How does spaghetti minus the meatballs sound?" She asked before she could whip it up on the stove. I nodded my head in agreement.
A few minutes passed by, she finally placed the plate of spaghetti in front of me. The smell that lingered through my nose is enough to make my mouth water. I asked her to fix a plate for herself so she wouldn't have to watch me eat alone and plus I wanted us to eat together like we used to. I don't want her to feel as if my presence is bothersome, I know we may not be in the best terms but the least we can both do is behave normally with each other so there isn't constant negative tension between us.
"How's Starr doing?" I said, picking up my utensils ready to eat.
She shrugged, "I guess she's doing fine. My dad has been helping out with her a lot and he's been doing a really good job."
"When can I see her again? Don't you think it's fair to bring her over sometime," I said. It's been almost a week since the last time I've seen my daughter and I'm equally responsible when it comes to taking care of her, I don't want to be the type of parent who's barely there for their child or is neglectful. Sierra is a great mother, there's no doubt in that but it's a little unfair that she hasn't even once proposed a meet up or a day where I would take her from her hands. If she doesn't want to see me that's fine I understand but the child isn't only hers if we're being real.
"You already have a lot on your plate. Don't you think now isn't the best time to be asking that?" She responded putting the emphasis on the word now. She started taking small bites of her food.
"What do you mean?"
"Lets be honest Michael, this house isn't safe for Starr. You have a crazed woman who can't seem to leave you alone, I don't want her close to my baby," she initiated an argument.
"You mean our baby? I understand the safety concern but I'm very capable of making sure nothing happens to her, I want to see my daughter Sierra." I placed my utensils down and pushed my plate to the side. I looked her in the eyes making sure I was holding a strong eye contact so she would understand how serious I'm being about this.
"You can come see her at my father's house, for now, I'm not bringing her to a place that could be too chaotic. Besides you're not even in the right mind set of taking care of anyone but yourself," she said.
"If you're mad at me still then that's fine but I feel like you're solely basing this decision on the fact of what I did, is this a punishment?" I raised my eyebrows. "Do I not deserve to see my daughter?"
"You're getting angry for no reason," she laughed silently.
"I'm trying not to but what you're saying is really getting on my nerves," I admitted. "You're not being fair. I've been having a hell of a week, I've got almost everything taken away from me and all I'm asking of you is for me to spend time with my daughter and you're telling me I can't have her here with me."
"Michael please, do you really wanna do this now? We were doing good just a moment ago," she sighed, now pushing her plate to the side. Both of us suddenly lost our appetite and the negative tension returned once more.
"I appreciate the care you're giving her now and I understand you're her mother but I'm the father, you can't make every decision regarding her. You had your turn and now I want mine. You can give her to me either on the weekends or any other weekday," I said hoping she would agree so we could push this unnecessary argument to the side.
"I'm making the best decision in this scenario," she quickly responded. "Michael you're unemployed, you've been acting out of character, you're having these breakdowns and you have someone trying to ruin you, does that sound like a safe environment for Starr?"
"You're acting like we haven't been taking care of her here before!"
"That was before I left you! It's different!" She yelled back.
A flash of realization then hit me, "So I was right. It is a punishment, you're not letting me see her because I cheated on you? Is that it?"
She was silent and faced her head down. I sighed realizing she was currently fighting on me for the custody of my child rather than continuing with co-parenting and the only meaning my mind could speculate from that is a nasty divorce settlement. I've experienced it before from my parents. First came the fights, then came the separation, then there's a fight on who takes the kids and then it's the final divorce. It sort of makes me wonder if doing all these nice things tonight is her way of making things easy before the bad news came along. No wonder she hasn't been returning my calls, her decision was probably already made as soon as she left me that one night. She was the one who even said she wanted one but I convinced myself it was out of anger, I didn't think she was that serious about it.
"Sierra tell me what you really want," I asked so I could hear my thoughts come out of her mouth.
"I want to finalize this divorce and I feel it's best I take full custody of Starr," she spoke lowly.
"And what if I say no?" I bluntly responded.
"Then I guess we can take it to court and let the law decide. I have no problem fighting with you on this. And I want to give this back to you," she reached over to her purse and pulled out her wedding ring. She slid it over the table until it reached my end. "I don't want to keep it knowing how much you spent on it."
"So you came over tonight for that reason?" I asked again already knowing the answer.
"It's better than showing up unexpectedly with a lawyer by my side," she replied. "Besides it was hard for me to even drag myself here. This is hurting me as much it's hurting you."
"Well it doesn't seem like it," I mumbled.
"Michael, this was bound to happen. We're no longer compatible," she said with a straight face. I stared at the ring in my hand which took me back to the days I had to take on extra shifts for two jobs during my young age, so I would be able to buy the prettiest ring to be on her finger. It feels like those days are being burned and erased in front of me right now.
"It took me almost a year saving up for this ring before I proposed to you, did you know that?"
"It's going to take me longer than that to get over what you've done to me," she said, as her eyes filled with heavy tears. She grabbed her belongings and rose up from her seat. Her plate was left behind on the table. "I'll see you soon and get the papers ready."
"Before you leave..." I said, stopping her in place. "Since we're no longer..... you know," I paused unable to even say it myself. "I'm closing the card with our emergency funds. I'm taking out the money and the bank needs a confirmation from you before I take your money out as well."
She agreed for me to make that approach but by her facial expression she wasn't happy about the card being closed. "When will I get my share of my money?"
"At the meeting with our lawyers when we officially end it all."
"I genuinely hope you take care of yourself Michael and not do anything that could get you harmed," she said before walking out the door and slamming it shut behind her.
I was left alone at the table. Nothing but thick silence surrounding the house again, I was back to the same position I was just in a few hours ago. I banged my fist on the table, accidentally knocking the plate of food onto the ground. The loud shattering ceramic glass echoed in my head shortly after.
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damn Michael is going through it 🙃
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