Chapter 11: The Cold Morning
999 Words
When I opened my eyes, everywhere was so unfamiliar.
For a moment, I didn’t know where I was. The room was dim, the curtains half-drawn, letting a thin streak of light fall across the floor. It took a few seconds before my memory caught up with me.
No no no no no what did I do? Oh God how did I let this happen again?
I turned to look at him. Dale’s arm lay heavy over my waist. His skin was warm, his breathing slow and even.
He was asleep, face half-buried in the pillow. There was a quiet softness in him that only ever appeared when he slept. I watched him for a long time, trying to remember if he’d ever looked at me with that kind of peace when he was awake.
I wanted to move, to slip out of bed and pretend none of this had happened. But I couldn’t. My body felt caught between guilt and longing.
The air in the room was cold. The smell of rain still lingered, mixed with the faint scent of his cologne and the bitter trace of alcohol. I pulled the sheet up to my chest, my heart tightening as I wondered what the outcome of last night would be if Dale woke.
I turned my head slightly. Dale stirred, groaned softly, then opened his eyes.
For a moment, he just stared at me, as if trying to remember who I was or why I was there. Then his gaze softened, but not with affection, more like recognition of a mistake he’d made before.
"You're still here huh?," he said, his voice rough from sleep.
"Y...yeah," I replied slightly anxious. His words cut through me like a knife. Did he really feel nothing for me?
He rubbed his eyes, sat up slowly, and reached for the glass of water on the nightstand. He didn’t look at me again.
For a moment, I thought he might say something, anything, but he didn’t. He just sighed and swung his legs off the bed.
"I....I should probably get going." I said quietly hoping he'd at least tell me to stay.
Instead, he nodded, still not meeting my eyes. "Yeah. Probably."
The words hit harder than they should have.
He stood and walked out of the room, leaving the door half-open.
I sat up slowly, wrapping the sheet around me. My clothes were scattered across the floor as a silent reminder of everything I wanted to forget. My heart ached with great pain.
When I finally got up, I caught sight of myself in the mirror across the room. My hair was a mess and I barely recognized the girl staring back at me.
I got ready and made my way downstairs.
When I stepped into the living room, Dale was sitting on the couch, scrolling through his phone. He had already changed into a clean shirt. A mug of coffee sat in front of him, steam curling into the cold air.
He looked up briefly as I entered. "Your jacket’s by the door."
"Thanks."
I walked past him and made my way for the door.
"Rain," he said suddenly.
I turned, eager to hear him tell me to stay or say something that will comfort my aching heart.
He hesitated, then leaned back on the couch, his eyes distant. "You don’t have to make this weird, alright? Last night just… happened."
The words landed like a slap I didn’t see coming. I just couldn't get used to the pain though I've experienced it first hand multiple times.
"You don't have to tell me twice. I know what it was," I said quietly, but firmly.
He nodded, relieved maybe, or just uninterested in arguing. "Good."
For a second, neither of us moved. I thought about the way he had called out my name hours ago, like it still meant something. Now he said it as if it were just a word.
I wanted to tell him how much it hurt. I wanted to ask why he had called me if he didn’t care. Why he sent me to cloud nine only to watch my fall to my death. But the words stayed trapped in my throat.
Instead, I just said, "Take care of yourself, Dale."
He gave a small, tired smile and nodded quickly without bothering to reply as if I to say I was a nuisance.
I picked up my jacket, walked out the door and closed the door behind me quietly.
For a moment, I stood on the porch, breathing in the cold. My hands were shaking, though I didn’t know if it was from the chill or from everything I was trying not to feel.
I walked down the street slowly, my shoes splashing through the thin layer of water on the pavement. Every step felt heavier, but I didn’t turn back.
I told myself I was done. I told myself this was the last time. But the truth was clear.
I knew that if he called again, if his name lit up my phone, I would still answer.
When I reached a corner, I stopped.
I wanted to cry, but the tears refused to fall. I had used them all up somewhere between his kisses and his passionate love making or should I even call it that.
I walked a little farther, then sat down on the bench near the bus stop.
For the first time, I said the words I dreaded out loud, just to hear how it sounded. Just to hear my own heart break at the harsh reality.
"He doesn’t love me, he never will."
I leaned back against the bench, closing my eyes for a moment. I was so tired to move or even make a sound. I didn’t feel strong yet. I didn’t feel ready to move on. But I knew I had to.
But not now. Maybe one morning, when I would wake up and his name wouldn’t hurt anymore.
Just not today.
- Writer
