Splitting

Nicole and I were spending the weekend in New Orleans, staying in a Bourbon Street balcony room trying to have a fresh start, to rekindle. We were dining out and as I looked at Nicole’s kind face from across the candlelit table, I felt a warmth rise up. Her glimmering eyes matched the sleek silver dress she was in.

It was a special night.

You see, we’d been on a break after I lied to her about slipping up, how I started hitting the bars again, picking up a bit of that sugar dust simply because I felt like it. After that, she told me how I was on thin ice, and that she was very, very disappointed in me.

“How can we start a family when you’re out and about being a dumbass,” she’d say.

I promised her that I’d get help until I could convince her that alcohol wasn’t the issue.

To be fair, I’m not really an addict, addict, not like the others at A.A. They had that real addict air to them. It’s just that drugs gave me the rushes, and the “oos” and the “aahs”, as if living the rollercoaster of life that I was promised as a kid.

We both smiled and clinked our wine glasses. I told her how I’d missed her, how it’d been so long since I’ve held her, but that’s not entirely true. What I missed was genuine feeling. I know I know, even after I promised to never lie to her again, I just couldn’t be fully honest.

No one’s perfect.

Earlier that day, I saw my old pal Santi at the airport. I hadn’t seen the guy since I graduated college. He was like a best, older brother to me, and he still looked good, handsome, although he had let go a bit of that famous physique of his, but who cares. He introduced me to his new girlfriend Chloe, who seemed nice. I asked for Santi’s number, as I’d forgotten why I’d even lost it. He shrugged and spoke about our college days at NOLA, saying how New Orleans was like his second home.

Back at the motel, Nicole and I were smooshed together under the covers, her head lying on my lower chest as we watched some action movie. I looked over at her drunken, snoozing eyes and felt… nothing. Maybe that feeling from earlier was just sentimental horniness.

You’d think she was asleep but anytime I moved, she would go “mmm where are you going?” or “nh nh, stop moving.” That’s kinda cute right? I used to think so.

I got up to brush my teeth and could hear her bratty mumblings on the way there. That's endearing right?

I thought time would bring the feelings out, but that background emptiness never stopped its nagging. I wanted to feel, to want to want. And it’s not just with relationships, it’s with everything: food, stress, arousal, ambition. It’s the wish for desire, but I haven’t felt anything true in years, and years… and years, just illusions, shallow shadow emotions, like the phantom limb sensations that amputees feel.

Maybe ghosts are real in that way.

The last time I could remember any living feelings, the ones that racecar around your whole body, were from this one gal named Sophie. We met at the beginning of college and clicked for about six months until she moved away. We kept in touch for a couple of years until that fading light eventually went out.

I mean it’s not empty empty with Nicole. I do care for her, but if feelings were fireworks, then the ones with Sophie were the breathtaking shows you’d see on Fourth of July, while with Nicole, they’re more like sparklers. And that’s not a bad thing, I like sparklers, their fun and they, you know… sparkle.

As we were wrapped up in sheets again, my phone rang. Nicole’s legs squeezed mine from moving and told me to ignore it. I moved her over and picked up. It was Santi telling me to meet him at some club. He and his boys bought a V.I.P table. I started to remember those good wild times which—

Nicole nudged me and asked who it was and as I told her, she rolled her eyes. I got up and said that I’d be back in an hour or two, that it’d been years since I’d seen the man. She instantly sobered up and went off on me. I tried reassuring her with, “I’m sorry but you’re falling asleep anyways. I just wanna see him for a little.”

She threw a fit and said how this was supposed to be "our weekend" and that “if I leave, we're done” before throwing a scrunched-up blanket at me. My face was hot, and my body started itching as she picked up some clothes that were lying on the bed, flinging them at me. I swear she wasn’t always this neurotic, but then again, that’s when she was always getting her way. I thought maybe it was the alcohol, and that she’d come back to her senses in the morning. She told me to get out and as I called a cab, she rolled over and pressed on her pillow as if trying to hurt it with her face.

“You never wanted me,” I thought I heard her say.

Fuck, was it her family’s money? Nah. Was it her looks? Mm, maybe. She did always want the best for me, for me to stick to being successful and doing all things proper, to climb the corporate ladder

Nicole had that southern charm and always smiled when we’d go on our first walks together. I saw her as my anchor. “Some anchor,” I thought as I couldn’t help but chuckle outside. I heard the door open and as I turned, it slammed.

No one’s perfect.

Sophie was never like that; she was always sweet. With Sophie, everything just flowed naturally, giving me this sense of peace, like I didn’t have to try. I remember how she’d bring me coffee in the morning as our dorms faced each other. She was always gentle, always calm, even when she was stressed, it had a tenderness to it. Even her knocks on my door were the kindest, softest knocks I’d ever heard.

As my shoes crunched on the wet and gritty parking lot, I looked up to see the bolded purple letters over the club. I headed to the entrance and saw Santi and Chloe waving at me from behind the V.I.P line. We walked in and made our way to the table which was guarded by velvet ropes. Santi leaned in to whisper how he had another surprise for me.

As some time went by, drinking and taking shots, Santi motioned for me to come with him to the bathroom. He brought me into a stall and ripped a bump off the back of his hand. I leaned in and told him how I’d been in A.A but he just waved it off and said how I wasn’t anymore. My temples were pounding, and my gut was clawing so I burst out of there and headed back to the table. He came up to me and said “Why were you being so weird? Take it easy, if you don't want to do it, just don’t do it.” I told him how I should get going, and his friendly face grew to a strange tension hidden in his eyes and forced smile.

Thinking back, I never used to refuse him really. Maybe it was that big brother authority as he’s three years older and used to shine to me. Anytime I wanted to leave, even if I just wanted to be alone, he would say “Nah, you’re good,” or “Oh, so you’re not busy.” I couldn’t be honest with him either, and the few times I tried or canceled on him, he’d ignore me out of spite.

In the middle of our conversation, Santi looked over and back like a terminator saying how one of the randoms at the table grabbed Chloe’s ass. He stormed over and gripped the man’s collar saying how people like him needed to learn their place. His buddies grouped around them trying to ease the situation and as I turned to see the utter confusion on Chloe’s face, I left.

I didn’t have the heart to tell him. The fun-loving and vivacious friend I once knew, who was friendly with me even though I was a shy freshman, was now just a domineering douchebag with a lizard-monkey brain that just reacts and splurges, splurges and reacts.

Do I just keep getting duped, or does everyone eventually corrode? Even the last time I spoke to Sophie a few years back, (which also put me on “thin ice”), something had changed. I didn’t know what it was, I mean she looked good, but she didn’t have that same sweetness to her. The tone of her voice was different. She had a little smirk to her smile and a new iciness hidden in her blue eyes. What I thought I saw in her, was this new capacity for malice.

Everything was getting groggy, hazy as I walked out the club, all just a blur. My body was numb and wanted to collapse for a nap. Halfway through the parking lot, I turned around to see a man lying limp on the ground as people started gathering near him. The cops and paramedics arrived in the distance and eventually bolted past me.

I saw a cozy patch of grass and let my body slump down and sink into it, like reclining on one of those La-Z-Boys. I felt a sensation of floating, as if tiny grass spirits were lifting my body just a couple inches. I looked up and gazed at the night sky while breathing in that cool refreshing air. I tilted my head forward and saw the fuzzy flashing lights in the distance as the paramedics tended to the man.

Yikes.

I dropped my head back and while enjoying that breezy, gentle serenity, I realized that letting go of absolutely everything was all it took. I could finally let my eyes begin their closing for the sweetest darkness, because that nagging pit of emptiness, that nothingness, was now gone… gone, gone gone gone. I knew it’d be back in the morning, but in that moment, I felt whole, relaxed, and breathtakingly satisfied.

At peace.