No Tomorrow: An Angsty Love Story

Two days.

Forty-eight hours.

Give or take a few hours, minutes, and seconds.

That’s how long it’s been since I heard from Blue. That might not seem like a long time to some, but it is after talking to him for hours every single night. That time with him has become an incredibly bright spot in the day, something I need to help me get through the day like a morning coffee.

I called him once, and emailed him twice—with no answer from either, and I can’t even describe how upsetting that was. I’ve picked up the phone to call him again at least fifty times, and I’ve chewed my fingernails to stubs debating whether I should call Reece to see if Blue’s okay.

But I don’t want to be that girl.

I’ve been that girl in various degrees for the past few years and I swore I’d never let myself be that crying, speed-dialing, crazy-ass message-leaving person again.

It is so very hard, though, to miss someone—to ache for them emotionally and physically. Blue has turned me into just as much an addict as he is.

Unfortunately, there’s no rehab program for love. Ditra has urged me a million times to date, have sex with other men, and hopefully fall in love with someone else. But to me, that’s a rebound. Or a distraction. I can’t get involved with another guy hoping I’ll love him more, want to be with him more, and will eventually get over Blue. What if I never get over him? That wouldn’t be fair to anyone. I’ve always chosen to just be alone, keep myself as busy as possible, be the best mother I can, and try to put him out of my mind.

Does that work? No.

Especially when I have to look at a little face every day that looks so much like him. And another little face that comes with a wagging tail.

I have a feeling that even if I didn’t have Lyric and Acorn, I’d still be thinking of Blue every day and waiting for our time to come.

After three days of Blue being MIA, my phone rings in the middle of the night, jarring me out of a sound sleep. Before I even answer I know it’s him and I already know he’s going to be a mess.

“Hello?”

“Ladybug, it’s me.” My ear is filled with his deep, scratchy voice. Not his sexy, lemme-drop-my-panties-at-the-sound-of-it voice, but his exhausted, wasted, slurry voice.

I sigh loudly. “What are you doing?”

“I’ve been so messed up, man. I meant to call you but I just couldn’t deal with it.”

“Don’t call me man, please.”

“Sorry.” The sound of him puffing on who-knows-what fills the next few seconds. “I’m sorry, babe. I just—I just I don’t even know. I’ve been so tired and I can’t sleep for shit and my head hurts and I couldn’t find my shirt and I had so much to do but then I just had to just get away from all the noise and all the fucking people just talking and talking and talking and I just wanted to stab my own ears. Do you know what I mean?”

“Not really…”

“I know…because you’re always so good, and you’re so…clear. Ya know?”

I don’t know. I wish I did.

“Blue, I’ve been really worried about you. Do you have any idea how much it upsets me when you just stop calling and emailing and I have no idea what’s going on? You could at least send me an email.”

“I’m sorry. Don’t be mad, okay? I hate when you’re mad.”

“I’m not just mad, I’m hurt and I’m disappointed. And I worry.”

“I am too. About the guy and all that shit… it’s got me all fucked up. It’s like he’s in my life and I’m not even in it.”

Sitting up, I turn on the lamp next to my bed. “Listen to me,” I say softly. “You have nothing to worry about with Josh. He’s just a friend. I’ve never even kissed another man since I met you, and I don’t want to. I only want to be with you.”

“I dunno, babe. I can’t deal with anything. Life. The band. All the fucking clouds. I just wanna sleep and walk and maybe sleepwalk. I want to fly.” He starts to laugh and cough. “I don’t know what the hell I’m saying. I’m thinking of learning a different language. I really just want to learn new words. Better ones than what I’ve got now.”

That sinking feeling of dread starts in my gut, spreads up to my chest and settles as a thick lump in my throat. Every minute of this phone call is slowly eating away at the happiness and hope that I felt for the past month.

“Have you been drinking? Tell the truth, please.”

I hear the clickity clack of his piercing. “Come on….” His voice drips with desperation.

“Just tell me.”

“Yes.”

“What else?” I ask with a shaky voice.

“Piper…” he pleads. “Don’t.”

“Tell me.”

“Everything. All the usual,” he admits. “I didn’t mean to. I just wanted to numb everything out for one night. That’s it. But then I couldn’t sleep and the night just didn’t end.”

“You know you can’t do that,” I say. “You know you can’t stop once you start.”

“I thought I could this time. I really fucking did, babe. But man it just felt so good….”

“Stop it!” I scream. “I don’t want to hear this.” The tears I’ve been trying to hold back spill from my eyes and I hurl one of my pillows across the room in frustration. Waves of nausea quake through me as the reality of it all sinks in. He’s just thrown all his progress away. He ruined his chance of meeting Lyric any time soon. And he’s once again disintegrated the foundation we were building.

“Hey, I’m sorry—”

“You’re not sorry! You keep doing this to yourself, and to me! What’s wrong with you, Blue? Why do you have to destroy everything when it’s finally getting good? You do this every time. Is this some kind of game to you?”

“Games are fun, Piper. This is the furthest thing from fun. What the fuck?”

“I can’t believe you did this again and I fell for all your promises again. I am so stupid!”

“I’ll stop. Okay?” he says with exaggerated optimism. “Give me a week. Two weeks, tops. I’ll be better. I promise.”

“You’re lying! You’ve said this all before. You’re never going to stop.”

“I’m trying. You don’t know what it’s like…to feel like this and not be able to just feel normal. You just don’t fuckin’ get it. You live in your perfect little elf life—”

“Excuse me?” I ask. “What perfect life do I have? I have some guy who’s been jerking my heart around for years! I work my ass off every day! I’ve been single since the day you disappeared and ya know what? It sucks. I’m lonely. I wanted to be married and have a family and instead I’m all tangled up in this mess with you because I don’t know how to forget you.” Tears stream down my face as I yell at him. “Do you think I wanted to raise a kid alone? Do you think I want to play house with my bi friend? Do you think I like carrying your poor dog up and down the stairs because he’s too weak to come upstairs by himself? How do you think it feels that both my sisters are married, they go on vacations, and they have all sorts of future plans and I have nothing? Do you even care that my father barely even speaks to me because I got pregnant and abandoned by some homeless guy who fucked me and then ran off? No, Blue, I don’t have a perfect little life at all! I’m stuck in an abyss because I love you and you keep stringing my dumb ass along and I let you because I keep trying to believe in you. And ya know what? You’re not worth it.”

My temples throb with anger and my throat is raw. He’s finally pushed me to my breaking point and I can’t take any more. All the confusion and heartache and false hope is overwhelming.

I can hear him breathing hard on the other end of the phone. “Wow.” His voice is strained when he finally talks. “That’s how you feel? About everything? About me?”

I wipe my nose with a tissue from my nightstand. “Yes.” I know I’m hurting him but I’m beyond caring right now because I’m hurt and I don’t know how to make it stop.

“That’s really fucked up. I thought you loved me and now you tell me I’m not worth it? Fuckin’ great.”

“I do love you! You know I do. Why else would I keep trying with you? Who else would put up with this? The problem is you’re in love with getting high. You love drugs and alcohol more than you love me.”

“No.”

“It’s true! Every time you do this you know you’re going to lose me but you still do it. You just don’t care! You treat me like I’m disposable. You take advantage of me because you know I’ll always try again. You always have!”

“Fuck you, Piper. You don’t understand a fucking thing about me.”

His words are like a sword straight through my heart. I’ve tried so hard to understand him. I’ve tried to be patient and forgiving and it’s gotten me hurt over and over and over again. Even now, he’s so messed up I don’t even think he’s comprehending the gravity of this conversation at all.

“Ya know what? You’re right. I don’t understand you,” I cry. “And I’m sick to death of trying! I don’t want to do this with you anymore. You can go get high and get fucked up and destroy your life and your career, I don’t care anymore! I don’t want you to ever call me again. Do you hear me? I want you to get out of my life for good.”

“Piper….”

“Go to hell!”

I slam the phone down so hard the plastic handset cracks and a small piece flies across the room. Burying my face in my pillow, I cry harder than I’ve ever cried in my entire life. I cry until I can’t catch my breath and my ribs ache and my eyes swell and burn. I cry until there aren’t any more tears and I choke and shake with emptiness.

Why isn’t my love for him enough? Why does he need to get high? How can he tell me that all he wants is for us to be together and then turn around and throw it all away for something as meaningless as drugs and alcohol? It makes zero sense to me.

Like a zombie, I go into my bathroom and fill a small paper cup with water and slowly sip it while I stare at myself in the mirror. My reflection confirms I look exactly how I feel inside.

Broken. Exhausted. Hideous.

I’ve never said such ugly words to anyone, and I wish I could take them all back. This isn’t me. This isn’t me. I’m a good person. I don’t deserve to be treated this way and I hate how horribly I just treated the person I love most, because I don’t feel like he deserves it either. Something is just wrong.

I crawl back into my bed, but I can’t escape into sleep. My brain won’t rest, it keeps playing our conversation on repeat, dredging up more tears. My head pounds with intense pain and feels like it might explode. I go back into the bathroom and swallow three Ibuprofen and a decongestant. I put a cold cloth on my head, but nothing eases the pain in my head.

Or in my heart.

The morning sun filtering through my gauzy curtains does nothing to cheer me. Today isn’t a bright new day like the ones I woke up to when things were going so perfectly between us. Hours have passed since I hung up on him, and I truly thought he would have called and at least attempted to make things better. Isn’t that what he should be doing? Apologizing? And I’d apologize, too. I’d tell him how sorry I am and how much I love him. It’s true I don’t understand him. But I know him, and I’m sure he ran to whatever drugs he has as soon as he hung up the phone, to numb himself from all of this rather than face it. I guess the choice for him is never between me or getting high—his choice is always to escape.