“I want to disappear,” BJ said to me, in between sobs. “I…want…to…disappear.”
“No, you don’t. You’re just upset.”
“You…never…listen…to…me.”
It’s not that I didn’t listen. I just didn’t care. BJ could disappear and I wouldn’t give a fuck. I could barely stand her now. Those big over-emotional gulps of air, the undone face and the bedhead. She was naked, sobbing and I just didn’t care. I didn’t want to hold her, console her or anything. I just wanted to calm her down and kick her out of my apartment.
Five minutes later she was asleep on my couch like a sphinx cat.
I wanted to wake her, but instead, I left.
I shuffled around the streets, kicking the half-empty beer cans into the street, the metal cans echoed and I hoped I woke the neighbors.
I walked for an hour, all the way to the Greyhound station, but I forgot my wallet at home, so I turned around.
I thought about hitching and leaving BJ all alone like a genie granting her wish, except I would disappear and not her.
I promised myself that I’d break up with her in the morning, but when I got back to the apartment, she was dressed and smoking a cigarette out the window.
It was 5am.
“Where’d ya go?”
“The bus station.”
“Did you have a change of heart?”
“I forgot my wallet.”
She gave me a look over her shoulder. I thought I had done it again. She was going to start those big, airy sobs all over again, but instead, she surprised me. She put out her cigarette, grabbed her purse and walked out the door.
I wanted to say it was a relief, but it wasn’t. It was just one less thing to deal with before I started treatment. One less person to say goodbye to when I finally croaked in three months.
I wouldn’t miss her. I wouldn’t miss anybody. But especially her.
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slomotionwalter reblogged this from fakepersona and added:
pretty much always...Diana’s stories,
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fakepersona posted this
