champagne

“I begged her to stay, you know,” she tells the rest as they, enraptured, listened, her hand on the small of my back. skin against skin – my dress was backless.

 

regret twists up my gut, sharp and painful.

 

didn’t forget about me, now, did you, doll?

 

bitter, sour, rising up my throat.

 

I maintain a smile, nod encouragingly. she goes on, rambling and heaping praises on everyone around her.

 

truth be told, I’m not sure this smile can come off. it’s been plastered on, thick and syrupy with the need to impress, if not just to pass. just another face in the crowd. just another girl in a gown.

 

the alcohol is pumping through my veins now, throbbing in my head, pulsing through my fingers and making them shaky, unsure.

 

memories start coming back through the fog. the fog that still clouds my vision, but not my mind.

 

I remember…

 

I remember dialing the numbers. those familiar numbers. I swore I’d never… but when you picked up it was like you’d never left. voice concerned and worried. you knew. you always knew. you saw right through my excuses and explanations. but you were patient, oh so patient as I rambled on, alcohol-induced waterfalls of words I would’ve never let slip when sober.

 

“I’m going to regret this tomorrow, aren’t I?”

 

comforting words flow from your lips, through the phone, into my needy ears. I was always needy, just did a good job of hiding it. but now, with inhibitions shed, walls down, I was vulnerable. and I chose you to see that.

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Published by

quirkyteal

writer/stylist/dreamer sophomore | lasalle college of the arts

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