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Throughout the years, I had grown tired of being twenty-something, lost in my drink at the local bar just steps away from my apartment complex. I continued to show up, though. The bartender knew my name and my seat at the counter felt particularly homey. They replayed the same songs and I sat through them all, watching the neon lights flicker while a group of girls mainlined vodka sodas and sang ‘Jealous Guy’ by John Lennon.
I remembered being here with Matty, too. I remembered his curls under the colors and the bottle of alcohol in his hand. I remembered his guitar string-scarred hands laced through my dainty ones, his thumb pad massaging my knuckles as I sipped something strong. Now, I covered my ears and groaned to myself. I closed my eyes briefly, the aroma of my fourth martini backslapping me as I leaned over the glass. There was nothing here for me anymore. The songs, the people, the sounds of other couples all around us: it had changed so quickly, and I was unsure how or why.
When I said “Don’t go,” he heard “goodbye.”
I wrote in my journals and cursed at my reflection, but not once did I tell him how I felt.
It was far too late, now. He had left the following week for a lengthy tour, I remembered Adam texting me just in case. I was left here with a bitter taste in my mouth, the urge to chase after him stronger than the drinks in my system. I slowly stepped down and out of my seat, tucking a tip under my glass and waving goodbye. I listened to the laughter fade out as I paused on the sidewalk. The door shut behind me and I gripped my jacket as the wind blew terribly. My apartment complex loomed in the distance, taunting me as I stood alone for the first time in a long time.
I thought about Matty on the walk back. I thought about him as I climbed into the elevator and made drunken small talk with an older man, exiting onto my floor and giving him a sad smile as the doors closed. My thoughts paused for a wink as I unlocked my door but continued again as I entered my apartment, the curtains drawn tightly and my living room dim.
I was drenched in darkness until I flickered on a lamp next to my couch, watching as the cozy, beige shade coated the walls. Leaving my shoes next to the coffee table, I pulled my legs under my weight and curled up in one of my lounge chairs, my phone sitting face-up.
I watched the screen with determined, glossy eyes. It hadn’t lit up in a while. I texted a few friends earlier, but even they grew tired of my ramblings. I was left observing, my hand tucked under my chin as my elbow dug into my leg. I soughed and eventually drifted off, creating happier, false scenarios in my head.
It was already late when I returned from the bar, about midnight. The sky was velvety, a blue-black with specks of bright white.
I was startled awake by a heavy knock at my apartment door.
I jumped, my arm collapsing underneath the weight of my head. I stretched out my legs and ran my hands over my face. I was exhausted, drunk, and craving my bed.
I couldn’t see a face through the peephole, only noticing a darkened figure. I yawned to myself softly, placing my hand against the doorknob and twisting it weakly. My hands were clammy from my light sleep, only becoming clammier when I realized who stood on the other side of the door.
“Were you sleeping?” He asked, noticing the bags under my eyes and the lines along my face.
Matty stood in the hallway of my apartment floor, watching me from a distance.
I glared at him, blinking to disperse the brightness from outside. Ultimately, my lips parted and I formed a few words in response. “What the hell are you doing here?”
“Adam, partly,” he responded without waiting. “I don’t have long.”
“Adam,” I cursed under my breath.
I thought back to our text conversations before he and the rest of the band left, wondering what worried him to the point he sent Matty as collateral. I shook my head, looking at Matty in his slouched, inattentive state.
Influenced by my drowsiness, I wavered him inside, shutting the door hastily behind him.
He found a place to sit rather quickly, refusing to waste time. I lingered by my door for a moment too long, resting my head against the wood as I meddled with the lock. “Aren’t you touring?”
Matty agreed. “Show’s started up, yeah. Not far from here, though, which is why I came.”
“Of course,” I scoffed and backed away from my door, turning on the balls of my feet.
“What?” Matty’s voice was more monotone, almost a whisper as I walked around and sat next to him on the couch.
He crossed his legs and pressed himself into the leather cushion, examining me as his lips parted. “I thought you’d want this. To see me.”
“No,” I lied.
Well, it wasn’t really a lie.
I didn’t know what I wanted, now that he was here sitting next to me in my apartment.
My mouth was dry. I tucked a few strands of hair behind my ears. “I didn’t want you to leave in the first place. You went on tour all enraged and are just now stopping by, how is that fair?”
“You wanted me gone,” Matty reiterated, turning his head to face me.
I shook my head. “Why are you saying that? I wanted us to work this out, you assumed something else entirely because I gave you an ultimatum.”
Matty’s eyes closed as he listened to me speak, his hand resting against his kneecap and his head thrown back. He sighed deeply. “There can’t be ultimatums here. Not now, not in our case.”
I had spent the last few weeks since our argument wishing he’d turn around and come back to me, but now that he was here, I felt angry. I felt resentful that he didn’t hold hope for us. I was also thrown off by his impromptu visit, wondering why he didn’t call me first.
Of course, my anger was self-inflicted, too. It was partly my fault he had left, after all.
“So what can there be, then?” I adjusted next to him. “What am I supposed to do, pray that you change in a day? People don’t work that way, Matty. The universe doesn’t work that way.”
He sighed again.
He didn’t say much after that.
I found myself sitting in silence, too. I eventually stood up from my seat, wandering over to my kitchen and stumbling over my feet as I opened the fridge. I was drunk from the alcohol I consumed earlier, thinking back to the bar and my lonely demeanor.
“Water?” I asked from across the room, looking at Matty.
He nodded.
I nodded, too.
I grabbed two bottles and stepped back into the living room, handing him one as I sat back down next to him. He held the water in his hand and I sat mine against the coffee table. He took small sips, swallowing hard as I gently pulled my knees to my chest, resting my head against his shoulder.
“I hope your tour goes well,” I eventually muttered.
He thinly smiled. “It will, it usually does.”
“Maybe I’ll attend one of the shows,” my eyes closed as I spoke.
He looked down at me, relaxing next to me and creeping an arm around my torso. My hand found his, holding onto it with some hope I had left over.
“I wouldn’t oppose it if you did,” he replied.
The two of us sat there for what felt like hours. He flickered off the lamp on his side of my couch and embraced me, massaging my knuckles with his thumb pad.
When the sun finally rose, the softest of light peaked through the sides of my curtains. Our eyes remained closed, our bodies next to each other so peacefully.
I counted his breaths and watched his chest rise and fall.
He would leave again soon, and I’d be here alone afterward. I chose not to think about that, though. I pushed all the negative thoughts towards the back of my mind, basking in the light aroma of his cologne.
He misunderstood my ultimatum as me wanting him gone.
I didn’t want it at all.
He misunderstood me, too.
I guess that’s being twenty-something, loving, and arguing with the same open heart.