One week.
It's been one week since the cat escaped the bag. Seven days since I left the loft. I've been drowning my sorrows in alcohol and any nonperishable foods I can find. Officially, I'm now living in the house I bought. It's a constant reminder that Lacey and I are now separated, but there's nothing I can do about that. What with the bare walls and empty king-sized bed, I've never felt this way and I only wish this was a feeling no one has to feel.
I'm grateful my cousin is a lot stronger than I am. The guy is my best friend and I'm happy that Lacey never got a chance to dig her claws into him. By that, I mean in a one hundred percent platonic manner. If there was ever a chance my best friend in the whole world would take my cheating wife's side, I think I'd just fall further off the deep end. So, it's good Chandler has never had high thoughts of Lacey. She's one of his least favorite people and now I can truly see why.
In fact, Chandler is the reason I have any clothes with me at all. If he hadn't physically dragged me from the couch, I wouldn't have showered, eaten, or changed. It seems I've fallen into a depression of sorts and I'm continually spiraling. My mood following Lacey's infidelity is that of a never-ending winter: dark and cold.
All I want to do is lay in bed and never get up. Lately, I've even been calling out of work and using up my paid time off days. It's not something I can do without getting fired eventually. I need to straighten myself out or face bigger problems than a cheating wife.
I'm about to lift myself from my pillow when my phone starts ringing. The sound of I Can't Help Falling In Love by Elvis Presley is loud and makes me want to permanently remove my ears. I had downloaded the ringtone a couple of years after being with Lacey.
Iphones had started becoming extremely popular. Naturally, I'm one of those people who would get the latest of the latest; then and now. Once I acquired the phone, I discovered the wonderful world of the app store where I found a ringtone maker. The process of me getting a snippet of this song as a ringtone has continued over the years, the song never changing. Now I wish more than anything to change it so I can wipe away the memory of Lacey.
"Hello?" I speak sluggishly into the phone. My throat is dry and I know I should probably grab a bite to eat with a gallon of water.
It's quiet on the other end for a moment before a muffled sound is heard. Growing impatient at the silence, I call into the receiver again, my voice stern.
"Chance..." a feminine voice croaks, the sound scratchy and hard on the ears. I wonder if my thoughts of Lacey are now tainted to where nothing about her is attractive anymore.
Sitting up faster than I should've, it registers that the other person on the line is my wife. I'm hit with vertigo, my eyes rolling for a moment as the dizziness grips onto me. Despite me sitting, I can feel lightheadedness in my head as if I stood too quickly. It doesn't help that I'm now feeling nauseous, bile repeatedly rising and falling in the back of my throat.
"Lacey," I whisper before clearing my throat. But since my esophagus is dry, it only causes me to cough harshly. When I calm down, I breathe out. "Why are you calling me?"
The woman on the other end breathes. There's a sniff and I wonder what she's thinking and feeling. It hasn't been long, but she feels like a distant memory after being away from so long. Past that, I'm embarrassed that I'm nothing more than a broken man.
"Chancey..." Lacey speaks, her voice sounding odd. It's more sultry than normal.
I say nothing for a hot minute. Sitting on the edge of my bed, I hunch over with my face almost between my legs. I'm hoping this will help the nausea I feel, but somehow, it's made things worse. My stomach recoils as I gag, but I swallow it down. Breathing in and out, I force myself to calm down. The only problem is how stuffy this room is. My windows aren't open and my door is closed, causing no ventilation to pass through. The stale air is making me feel more queasy by the second.
"Chance, baby, please say something," Lacey pleads, her sultry tone gone and replaced with a watery sound. "Chance?"
If I could, I would've told Lacey to stop talking. Though I know that if I open my mouth, my nonexistent lunch will go across the white carpet in my room. So, I choose to keep quiet and wait for the nausea to pass. Only, Lacey keeps speaking and it's making me acknowledge my sickness. Without any hesitation, I stand to my feet and dash into the ensuite bathroom. With my phone still clutched in my hand, I harshly drop to my knees and empty the stomach acid into the toilet.
For a fleeting moment, I think that if my cousin were here, he'd offer to hold my hair back. A strangled chuckle leaves me before I vomit again. My throat tingles from the burn as I heave once more. Since I've been drinking, the effects of the alcohol have toned down the unpleasant feeling of vomiting.
A scoff is heard on the other line. "Fine, Chance! But when you come crawling back to me, I'll be the one throwing up."
The phone hangs up, but I'm too busy with my head in the toilet to really care about Lacey and her anger. After some time sitting and inhaling the putrid scent, I flush it and struggle to my feet. Bending down, I pick up my phone that had fallen next to the porcelain.
Looking down, I'm almost convinced that the call was a hallucination. Though when I check the recent calls, I know it was all real. Somehow, having heard Lacey's voice has spurred me. Her last words repeat in my mind about me coming back to her. How can she say that when she's the one who betrayed me? Why is she so sure she has a strong grip on me now? Her arrogance makes me angry. It makes me want to go out and move on just as she did while still in our marriage.
Licking my dry lips, I grimace at the remnants of vomit on the corners of my mouth. Quickly, I brush my teeth before dialing my cousin. The call goes to voicemail, something almost always expected at this time of day. So, I settle for a text instead.
Get my mind off of Lacey. I want to get over her.
Walking back into my room, I plop down on the bed and drop my head into my hands. Shame wells in my chest and in my mind. I can't believe I let myself get like this. If it's possible, I'm starting to feel worse as I mull over my attitude for the past few days. My stomach rolls once again as I feel disgusted at myself and my actions. Lifting my head, I look over at the bottle of tequila that rests on my nightstand. It's almost empty.
I can't help but imagine a route where I don't stop drinking. Passing out all alone with no one to roll me onto my side, that's what I think of. I would eventually vomit, but then I'd choke because I'd probably be laid on my back and too far gone to rightfully roll onto my side. If I don't end up dying from choking, I'd probably succumb to alcohol poisoning, and I know that's how Chandler would find me.
"Fucking stupid," I hiss before forcing myself up. Grabbing the bottle, I take fast strides to the bathroom, ignoring the dizziness.
Once in front of the sink, I start pouring the rest of the liquor out. This isn't the only bottle, but this is a good start. I refuse to waste away anymore at the hands of my cheating wife.
Again, my phone starts ringing, but I ignore it. I'm too focused on my reflection. There are deep purple bags under my eyes, deep enough to carry groceries. The whites of them are red, exhibiting my foolish drinking over the past couple of days. Pale, sickly skin has replaced my normal tan. With a shake of my head, one of my hands forms a fist while the other runs through my greasy hair. There's suddenly an itch to punch the mirror before me.
Blowing out a breath, I turn away and go back to my room. It's just in time since ringing starts up again. Rolling my eyes, I stagger to the bed and pick up the pesky device.
"I don't want to talk, Lacey. You broke my damn heart and I'm not going to let you crawl back," I say, raising my voice.
"Well, it's a good thing I'm not Lacey."
Hearing the voice of my cousin, I sigh. To make absolutely sure it's him, I pull my phone back and take a look at the caller ID. Once confirmed, I speak again. "Lacey called today. At this point, I feel like she's rubbing salt into the wounds like she doesn't want to let go, but she has to! She can't have her fucking cake and eat it too. The cake is spoiled, Chand. I can't—I just can't anymore. I need to get over Lacey."
"Alright, brother. We'll go out Saturday, okay? I've been meaning to make some plans anyway. You don't mind if we have a plus one, right?" Chandler asks.
I scoff. "I don't care. I just need to get her off my mind."
"Fantastic. Be ready on Saturday then. We're going to go out and get your mind off of that manipulative bitch. And hey, lay off the alcohol. Your words are slurred and you're breathing too damn heavy right now. Get some sleep, alright?"
"Yeah." I hang up after agreeing. Setting my phone down, I lay back and welcome the cool feel of my pillow.
If there is one thing I really want right now, it's a warm body next to mine.