Just Come Over

Author’s Note: The following story was inspired by Come Back To Bed and Split Screen Sadness by John Mayer. There may or may not be a part two. Thanks for reading.

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            Suddenly there’s nothing but silence invading the empty spaces of the house, so cold and distant that I’m left numb with disbelief. I clench my hands into tight fists, feel the pulse beating rapidly in my wrists as I stand stationary, trying to gather my thoughts. They slip into unknown crevices of my mind, floating so far away I can no longer grasp anything. Emotions flood through me, a waterfall of sadness and anger. Collapsing across the disheveled bed, I curl into the sheets and blankets, attempting to cocoon myself from any more danger. It doesn’t seem real yet, I still feel the warmth radiating from his side of the bed, still see the imprint of his head on the pillow.

            Even though he left no more than ten minutes ago, I want desperately to call him. There’s no use in attempting sleep if he’s not by my side, no use in trying to fill a void by myself. My eyes are brimming with stinging tears, and they slide down my cheeks and leave behind salty, crimson trails each time I blink. I’m so frustrated with myself for saying things that I knew would only further the argument, for insisting that he leave when all I wanted was for him to stay. Tears roll down my cheeks in a sloppy stream, the kind of sobbing that leaves your chest heaving for air and your nose runny afterwards. All I want is to take back everything. All I want is for my body to be curved into his and for our breathing the only sound in the room. If only everything was that simple.

            Not listening to my brain – which is screaming don’t – I grab my phone and dial his number purposefully, a million beginnings running through my mind. Four rings seem like a million, each slow beep torturous. I exhale, letting out a stale breath of air I hadn’t realized I was holding in. “Hello?” His voice is soft, a whisper of sweetness against the sharp ache of my barely beating heart. The sentences that I had strung together in my head disappear, and suddenly I’m at a loss for words with no clear idea of what to say. One word and he’s left me speechless.

            My fingers are burning white I’m clutching the phone so tightly, holding onto that word. “Are you there?” I’m positive he can hear my sobs, no matter how hard I try to stifle them. I smother my head into the pillow, listening intently as he speaks quietly into the phone, his words filled with promise and apology. I’m absorbed in the sound of his voice, I find myself growing lost as he whispers gentle things that reassure me that we will be repaired. He’s poetic with each sentence, a long melody of beautiful words. I swear, nothing has ever sounded so flawless.

            I’m reaching towards his side of the bed, longing for him to be there instead of the empty ghost of a bed he’s left me with. He’s still talking, still coaxing me to fall in love all over again. I shouldn’t say yes, shouldn’t want to so much it hurts. We are a constant cycle of goodbyes and hellos, exits and reentries that leave my glass heart in pieces every single time. His voice is calm, so placid against my racing heart, my shaking hands, and my crying eyes. I can’t think, can’t seem to piece together a decision. My brain is repeating no, no, no. Don’t do this to yourself again. Yet, my heart is begging yes, one more time with every contraction and relaxation.

            The tears are dribbling slowly now, the intense sadness fading. It’s ridiculous, but the small speck of drama has left me exhausted even though I should be used to this by now. I shift onto my back, eyes glazed over as I stare aimlessly at the ceiling. He’s stopped talking as he waits for my reply, and the only thing I can hear is the swift inhales and the deep exhales as we both attempt to catch our breaths. Despite the repetition of infuriating fights and miserable goodbyes, something grips me tightly. He whispers something else, his voice cracking in anguish. “Just come over,” It’s all I can say, the only thing running through my mind on an infinite loop. Just come over.