Drinking again

Drinking Again - Dinah Washington

Dear One,

Everything starts with a promise. To eat healthy. To exercise regularly. To be honest. To be faithful. To quit smoking. To forget. To move on. To avoid alcohol consumption. To forgive. To be well. To be kinder. To be happy.

That is, until everything ends with an apology. For unkept promises. Unreturned affection. Unsent letters. Unsaid words. Undone deeds. Unfelt feelings.

I seriously thought I was over you. I mean, all the signs were there. I could hear your name, even mention it myself, without feeling a pinch in my heart, or in my throat. Looking at certain objects no longer cause a torrent of memories that used to flood my head. I could even smile when good memories of you drift into my consciousness like a stray breeze. I could look at other men without wondering about the ways they can possibly hurt me should I get involved with them.

I could smile at them and laugh with them and flirt back when they were flirting with me.

I believed it until I saw you last night. It was just for a moment. I’m not even sure if you saw me. I’m kind of hoping that you didn’t. But you did. I was told by our friends that you did.

I don’t even know what happened. I was fine. Was it the time? We used to see each other at that time of the evening– when I was finished with my work while you were just starting. Those evenings, when the streetlights would make your skin appear luminous against the quickly thickening darkness, flew by without me noticing. Hours with you then just seemed to run and flow like river-water over rocks.

Was it the weather? The rain has always bothered you so much you feel almost paralyzed when it catches you, even if you were indoors. I remember many rainy afternoons when you would make me abandon my office so we can lay in my bed to cuddle and talk softly, until desire or sleep catches up with us. Rainy evenings were most cruel, I think, to your small fear. The sound of raindrops falling on roofs bothered you most; you told me the sound reminded you of gunshots. I would hug you close so my embrace covered your ears. Let the sound of my heart calm you to a peaceful sleep.

Was it your smile? I barely saw it. I turned away the moment I saw the back of your head. I, however, know that by the shape of your jaw, that you were indeed smiling, even laughing probably with the person you were engaged in a conversation with. I remember how your smile can quickly melt all my resolve and determination. Your smile hesitates to show your row of little front teeth, even if I told you that I found them cute and adorable.

Was it your voice? I didn’t hear a word you said in the din of the gathering. Your voice, which can go as high as a child’s, especially in sensual pleasure, has never failed to draw me. It’s almost like gravity: unseen and impossible to resist.

So what was it then? Like I said, I don’t clearly know. I thought, believed in fact, that after almost a year I was over you. My friend told me I won’t feel the same way the next time I see you. Right now, however, this is the last thing I want to do. See you again.

So I accepted someone’s invitation to go out for drinks after the gathering. Let him guide me, first to a car, then to a bar, and then to a seat for two. I let him buy me one drink after another. I let him caress the inside of my arm. I allowed him to whisper things sibilantly in my ear. Let him squeeze my hips and knees. After a few drinks, I secretly hoped he’d turn into you so his assaults can feel bearable. But when he did (at least, in my mind’s eye), all I felt was this terrible sadness.

For I knew that I don’t have you anymore. To caress the inside of my arm. To wake me up in the middle of the night. To whisper silly things in my ear. To listen to my musings and apprehensions. To squeeze my hips in urgent ecstacy. To tell me things that no one else knows.

It’s over. And the sooner I accept this fact, the better off I’ll be. This I know. And no drink, no matter how potent and strong, can alter this reality. Despite this, however, I am drinking again.

Why do you affect me still?