259. Under the Influence:
Being under the influence always seemed to make things so much clearer. Well, at the time at least, anyway. It was a pity he couldn’t usually remember that clarity or even what he’d been discussing in depth the next day.
He sighed. What had his life come to?
He was a miserable, angry old man. Drunk man, he corrected himself. Not to mention worthless.
Why had he let her go? Why had he given up all those years ago?
Because you were a scared fool, he answered himself.
He could still hear his mother’s voice over the phone, “If you let this one go when you know perfectly well that she’s it and you’re it for her, you will regret it for the rest of your life.”
Had he listened? No, of course not. He was a stubborn, pigheaded man who had hurt the one person he’d ever really loved and because it was easier than talk about their problems, he’d let her go.
He took another swig of his beer. He didn’t even like beer. He’d never been into drinking and suddenly when he realised he’d lost her and he was alone, he’d found himself doing this. Every single day. It didn’t help, he knew that, but it did numb the pain temporarily.
A thought flickered through his mind; something she’d once said, but in his drunken haze it slipped out of his reach.
Beep beep beep beep!
Shit, time to get up. He groaned and rolled over, his eyes gluggy with sleep.
Another night alone, he thought to himself.
Then he remembered the nightmare. It wasn’t his alarm that had woken him up, it was that image of himself as a lonely old man.
All because she scares me and I’m too scared to admit to myself and her that I love her, he thought.
He took a deep breath. If you don’t fix things now you WILL be that man. Get some balls. Tell her.
He reached for his phone.