Chapter 1
When we love,we always strive to become better than we are. When we strive to become better than we are, everything around us becomes better too."
Paulo Coelho, The Alchemist
Dear Diary,
I woke up with a massive headache. Yesterday was my bachelor party and I must have drunk myself to a stupor. I don’t remember much from last night and how I ended up in what seems to be my old room at my mother’s house.
Rustling beside me got my attention and I noticed there was someone in bed with me. When I saw who it was, I groaned. Internally I screamed, why? Why would I succumb to this all over again? What was terribly wrong with me? I am madly in love with Edwina. I had tried to convince myself that I would stop my bad ways and make her the happiest woman on earth. Edwina was patient, loving and caring. What more could I ever ask for?
I got up quickly realizing I was naked. With my head pounding and still a little inebriated, I found my discarded clothes, donning them in record time and stormed out leaving with my guilty conscience. Stopping a taxi and giving directions to my apartment, I called my best friend, Bismark. At this stage, I was too guilty-ridden to call Edwina.
On picking the call, Bismark screamed his excitement, causing my headache to escalate.
“Yoo Martin, yester night was fire. It was a shame your loyal ass refused to dance with any of the girls at the club and ended up way too drunk. I was glad you called your mom though. I don’t know how I would have dealt with your drunken ass.”
Berating myself for my drunken decision, I asked rhetorically.
“I called my mom?” That answers how I woke up at her place.
Bismark affirmed with his sarcastic “yep”.
Anger coursed through me at my dumb choice under the influence of alcohol. Groaning out my frustration, I whispered yelled.
“But why did you let me call her when I was in that state? You could have called Edwina or taken me to your place.”
Chuckling on the phone as though finding my statement amusing, he retorted;
“Were you too drunk to remember? You told me that under no circumstance was I to call Edwina and knowing my wife’s policy of not coming home drunk, I had to also crash at my parent’s house.”
With my head still aching, I cut the conversation short.
“Alright, Mark. My head feels like it is going to split open. I am in a taxi on my way to my apartment. I need to get some painkillers and sleep. Talk to you later.”
Getting to my apartment, I took a long shower, ate some left overs and took some painkillers before hopping into my bed. Since my phone was in silent mode, I woke up hours later to find 22 missed calls – two from Edwina and 20 from Mother dearest. Of course, my mom isn’t the most patient person so even if I couldn’t get to the phone, she had to blow it up. Ignoring my mom, I called Edwina. Her cheerful voice calmed the storm raging inside me but I had to excuse my silence for tiredness.
How could I tell my beautiful fiancé that I have cheated on her with no one else than my own mother? Ridiculous, disgusting and forbidden you might think. I have no excuse, my life was totally messed up and I might end up messing up the life of the only girl I have ever loved along with it. But as selfish as I was, I wouldn’t let her go. I just couldn’t.
How did I end up in this godforsaken situation in the first place you might ask? We sometimes seem to accept the abnormalities that surround us, thinking it is duly justified. It is preferable to call a spade a spade. Secrets tear up the very foundation built on love and trust. Accepting things at face value is the beginning of a long line of pain, heartbreak and endless turmoil. My name is Martin and these are my dark tales.
