The last thing I'll post for a couple days. Shirley over, strike O.o, and just exhaustion...ENJOY!
My fault. My fault. My fault.
It’s a chant in my head that won’t stop.
Why don’t they look at me with hateful, accusing stares? Why do they let me speak here at the podium of how amazing of a person you were? Why do they look sympathetic when I cry while I speak? Why don’t they laugh and jeer at me? “You deserve it!”
Don’t they know?
It’s all my fault.
“Bammie, darling, you look wonderful,” I simpered, and shyly, you smiled, laying your head on my chest when we hugged. I squeezed you extra tight because I knew how much you’d been hurting since you and Missy had parted ways, and you squeezed me back, lifting your blue eyes up to mine in thanks.
“How’ve you been?” you asked, inviting me to sit by you as you nursed a drink alone while your friends cut their rugs on the dance floor.
I shrugged. “Can’t complain. Life’s been boring without you, though.” I punched your arm with a playful wink, and you laughed under your breath, nodding.
“Could say the same about you, man. Where you been?”
How could I tell you that I’d been staying away on purpose to keep myself from being your rebound? How could I possibly tell you I’d been screening your calls like I did for the rest of my friends when I was home and deleting unread emails from you just to keep myself from falling prey to your charms and becoming your toy?
I couldn’t, exactly. So I didn’t. I lied, winking at you overzealously to make sure you weren’t at all suspicious.
“I’ve been sampling the many flavors of Finland, if you know what I mean,” I said, purposefully in a lecherous and husky tone, and you laughed nervously.
“Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean,” you kind of mumbled; I didn’t realize what your tone meant, so I just dismissed it in my head and decided to do one thing I knew would change the subject.
“Let’s dance, Bammie!” I demanded, standing up and laying my hand on yours to pull it up from the table and you along with it over to the dance floor.
You nodded as you sucked your lip between your teeth and bit, following me and letting me take the lead.
I snaked my hands around your waist and laid my palms on your back, yanking us close and swaying my hips into yours. I didn’t realize what I was doing to you or what I was doing to me by doing these things; I just did them without thought because they were what I wanted.
Your hands fell naturally to rest on my shoulders and your head lay on my chest as we swayed to the music. It went fast and then slow but we stayed in the same pose, the same feeling, the same motion no matter what was around us.
We did that for a long time. We just swayed with no need or intention to stop.
Your eyes never met mine and I didn’t want to look at you.
When our fifth song had ended, you finally looked up at me, still biting on your lip. You dropped your hands and stepped away from me, but before you could go too far, I wrapped my fingers around your wrist.
I didn’t know what you were thinking, but I knew it wouldn’t be good for you to leave with whatever it was in your head.
My touch seemed to screw you up somehow, and you bit your lip and released it at least seven times before you made any sort of other move, blue eyes flickering to my face and the floor, to my chest, my shoes, your shoes, and back again.
Then without much warning, you launched yourself forward into me and your lips pushed against mine, our teeth clacking with your lack of grace and my lack of prior knowledge.
I pushed mine back on yours. I shouldn’t have, because it was doing what I’d all along sworn I wouldn’t, but I did. I only stopped doing it when your hands moved back onto my body, this time rubbing from my shoulders down my back and stopping on my ass.
You squeezed and I woke up. I can’t explain it as anything else. It only felt like waking up, from a hazy dream that felt too good to actually exist.
I wasn’t angry at you. I was angry at myself. But I couldn’t very well push myself, so I pushed you. None too gently, I shoved you away and cruel words flew from my lips before I could think about what to say to you.
“Bam, I don’t know what that was, but I doubt it changes anything, so let’s just forget it happened, alright? Just go back to the table and drink it all away and I’ll find myself someone else to take me home.”
I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t want to be a rebound, I didn’t want to be a drunken mistake, and I definitely didn’t want to be someone you used when you were lonely. That’s what I thought the kiss meant, and so I reacted badly.
You looked stricken. I could have kicked you in the balls and there would have been less hurt on your face. I thought you were going to punch me, and as you stood there for a long minute, staring at me and blinking repeatedly to clear the gloss on your eyes away, it seemed like you would. But you didn’t.
No, you just sighed and walked away, not to the table like I’d suggested, but out of the club. I felt worse than awful when you slammed the door hard enough behind you to gain the attention of the entire dance floor, and I knew I couldn’t go after you then. Not after what I’d said.
See? My fault. It’s my fault you ran out of the club that night. All my fault.
“Where’d Bam go?” Ryan asked when he came back to the table to find me with my head pillowed on my arms, trying to fall asleep so I wouldn’t have the urge for a beer anymore. I’d never wanted alcohol since I got out of rehab, but I wanted it so badly right then.
“I don’t know,” I said indifferently, waving my hand in the general direction of the other side of the club where the door was. “He disappeared a while ago and I haven’t seen him since.”
It was such a lie that I wanted a beer even more, just to quiet my mind screaming at me how much of a bastard I was. But I didn’t want Dunn and Novak to find you and bring you back to the table. I never wanted to see you again, and definitely not tonight.
I couldn’t take the way I knew you’d look at me if you came back, so I stayed silent about the fact that you’d been gone for three hours outside, that I was worried sick about you but didn’t have the balls to go see if you were alright.
It’s my fault no one found you until it was too late, too. I should have said something. I didn’t. Oh, how I hate the wish I made in all my misguided self-hate, about never wanting to see you again. Wishes like that suck when they come true.
“They caught up with the Calvin fellow up the street and he confessed to it all, gave us the knife and everything. Apparently your friend came out of the club pissed and depressed as hell, and Calvin just happened to be the one he ran into. He picked a fight with the wrong person and Calvin just reacted with the knife. He swore he never wanted to murder anyone, and he said he’ll take the sentence quietly as punishment for being stupid enough to carry a knife while drunk. I’m sorry I can’t offer more, Mr. Valo, Mr. Dunn.” The officer rubbed his neck and walked away holding our statements, as Ryan and I just kind of fell to the pavement crying together.
It’s my fault you were angry enough to pick a fight with the first guy you bumped into, unaware of the knife hidden in his pocket.
“Bam and I were best mates, drinking buddies and jokester friends till the end…even when I stopped drinking and Bam cut down…” I pause for laughter, and continue, sniffing back the tears.
“Not many people know exactly how close we were. Dunn, Linde, a few others, but not too many. And no one knows that I loved him. Well, until now, no one did.” I pause for the awkward silence, and this time I can’t sniff ‘em back. I’m crying, whether I want to or not.
“He never did, that’s for sure. That’s why he’s dead. I’m sorry, all of you, but I’m the reason Bam ran out of that club, why he fought with that guy and got himself killed. I’m so, so, so sorry. If I had one wish, I’d want it to be me. Bam didn’t deserve to die just for wanting an asshole like me.”
“So here’s to his memory. May he forever be remembered as the amazing guy he really was.” I lift my hand like I’m holding an imaginary goblet, the tears blurring my vision at this point, and bow slightly to the podium.
Then, silently and slowly as the congregation fights to digest everything I’ve said, I walk over to your coffin and bend down to place a kiss to your cold forehead.
I wipe my face and smile sadly at you. You appear to be sleeping peacefully, for what I know would be the first time in months.
In a coffin. You’re in a coffin, the wood stained with tears of grief, not least my own.
And it’s all my fault.
***
Sometimes I love my inspiration. Perhaps you do as well? Let me know, darlings! :)
It’s a chant in my head that won’t stop.
Why don’t they look at me with hateful, accusing stares? Why do they let me speak here at the podium of how amazing of a person you were? Why do they look sympathetic when I cry while I speak? Why don’t they laugh and jeer at me? “You deserve it!”
Don’t they know?
It’s all my fault.
“Bammie, darling, you look wonderful,” I simpered, and shyly, you smiled, laying your head on my chest when we hugged. I squeezed you extra tight because I knew how much you’d been hurting since you and Missy had parted ways, and you squeezed me back, lifting your blue eyes up to mine in thanks.
“How’ve you been?” you asked, inviting me to sit by you as you nursed a drink alone while your friends cut their rugs on the dance floor.
I shrugged. “Can’t complain. Life’s been boring without you, though.” I punched your arm with a playful wink, and you laughed under your breath, nodding.
“Could say the same about you, man. Where you been?”
How could I tell you that I’d been staying away on purpose to keep myself from being your rebound? How could I possibly tell you I’d been screening your calls like I did for the rest of my friends when I was home and deleting unread emails from you just to keep myself from falling prey to your charms and becoming your toy?
I couldn’t, exactly. So I didn’t. I lied, winking at you overzealously to make sure you weren’t at all suspicious.
“I’ve been sampling the many flavors of Finland, if you know what I mean,” I said, purposefully in a lecherous and husky tone, and you laughed nervously.
“Yeah, yeah, I know what you mean,” you kind of mumbled; I didn’t realize what your tone meant, so I just dismissed it in my head and decided to do one thing I knew would change the subject.
“Let’s dance, Bammie!” I demanded, standing up and laying my hand on yours to pull it up from the table and you along with it over to the dance floor.
You nodded as you sucked your lip between your teeth and bit, following me and letting me take the lead.
I snaked my hands around your waist and laid my palms on your back, yanking us close and swaying my hips into yours. I didn’t realize what I was doing to you or what I was doing to me by doing these things; I just did them without thought because they were what I wanted.
Your hands fell naturally to rest on my shoulders and your head lay on my chest as we swayed to the music. It went fast and then slow but we stayed in the same pose, the same feeling, the same motion no matter what was around us.
We did that for a long time. We just swayed with no need or intention to stop.
Your eyes never met mine and I didn’t want to look at you.
When our fifth song had ended, you finally looked up at me, still biting on your lip. You dropped your hands and stepped away from me, but before you could go too far, I wrapped my fingers around your wrist.
I didn’t know what you were thinking, but I knew it wouldn’t be good for you to leave with whatever it was in your head.
My touch seemed to screw you up somehow, and you bit your lip and released it at least seven times before you made any sort of other move, blue eyes flickering to my face and the floor, to my chest, my shoes, your shoes, and back again.
Then without much warning, you launched yourself forward into me and your lips pushed against mine, our teeth clacking with your lack of grace and my lack of prior knowledge.
I pushed mine back on yours. I shouldn’t have, because it was doing what I’d all along sworn I wouldn’t, but I did. I only stopped doing it when your hands moved back onto my body, this time rubbing from my shoulders down my back and stopping on my ass.
You squeezed and I woke up. I can’t explain it as anything else. It only felt like waking up, from a hazy dream that felt too good to actually exist.
I wasn’t angry at you. I was angry at myself. But I couldn’t very well push myself, so I pushed you. None too gently, I shoved you away and cruel words flew from my lips before I could think about what to say to you.
“Bam, I don’t know what that was, but I doubt it changes anything, so let’s just forget it happened, alright? Just go back to the table and drink it all away and I’ll find myself someone else to take me home.”
I swear I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t want to be a rebound, I didn’t want to be a drunken mistake, and I definitely didn’t want to be someone you used when you were lonely. That’s what I thought the kiss meant, and so I reacted badly.
You looked stricken. I could have kicked you in the balls and there would have been less hurt on your face. I thought you were going to punch me, and as you stood there for a long minute, staring at me and blinking repeatedly to clear the gloss on your eyes away, it seemed like you would. But you didn’t.
No, you just sighed and walked away, not to the table like I’d suggested, but out of the club. I felt worse than awful when you slammed the door hard enough behind you to gain the attention of the entire dance floor, and I knew I couldn’t go after you then. Not after what I’d said.
See? My fault. It’s my fault you ran out of the club that night. All my fault.
“Where’d Bam go?” Ryan asked when he came back to the table to find me with my head pillowed on my arms, trying to fall asleep so I wouldn’t have the urge for a beer anymore. I’d never wanted alcohol since I got out of rehab, but I wanted it so badly right then.
“I don’t know,” I said indifferently, waving my hand in the general direction of the other side of the club where the door was. “He disappeared a while ago and I haven’t seen him since.”
It was such a lie that I wanted a beer even more, just to quiet my mind screaming at me how much of a bastard I was. But I didn’t want Dunn and Novak to find you and bring you back to the table. I never wanted to see you again, and definitely not tonight.
I couldn’t take the way I knew you’d look at me if you came back, so I stayed silent about the fact that you’d been gone for three hours outside, that I was worried sick about you but didn’t have the balls to go see if you were alright.
It’s my fault no one found you until it was too late, too. I should have said something. I didn’t. Oh, how I hate the wish I made in all my misguided self-hate, about never wanting to see you again. Wishes like that suck when they come true.
“They caught up with the Calvin fellow up the street and he confessed to it all, gave us the knife and everything. Apparently your friend came out of the club pissed and depressed as hell, and Calvin just happened to be the one he ran into. He picked a fight with the wrong person and Calvin just reacted with the knife. He swore he never wanted to murder anyone, and he said he’ll take the sentence quietly as punishment for being stupid enough to carry a knife while drunk. I’m sorry I can’t offer more, Mr. Valo, Mr. Dunn.” The officer rubbed his neck and walked away holding our statements, as Ryan and I just kind of fell to the pavement crying together.
It’s my fault you were angry enough to pick a fight with the first guy you bumped into, unaware of the knife hidden in his pocket.
“Bam and I were best mates, drinking buddies and jokester friends till the end…even when I stopped drinking and Bam cut down…” I pause for laughter, and continue, sniffing back the tears.
“Not many people know exactly how close we were. Dunn, Linde, a few others, but not too many. And no one knows that I loved him. Well, until now, no one did.” I pause for the awkward silence, and this time I can’t sniff ‘em back. I’m crying, whether I want to or not.
“He never did, that’s for sure. That’s why he’s dead. I’m sorry, all of you, but I’m the reason Bam ran out of that club, why he fought with that guy and got himself killed. I’m so, so, so sorry. If I had one wish, I’d want it to be me. Bam didn’t deserve to die just for wanting an asshole like me.”
“So here’s to his memory. May he forever be remembered as the amazing guy he really was.” I lift my hand like I’m holding an imaginary goblet, the tears blurring my vision at this point, and bow slightly to the podium.
Then, silently and slowly as the congregation fights to digest everything I’ve said, I walk over to your coffin and bend down to place a kiss to your cold forehead.
I wipe my face and smile sadly at you. You appear to be sleeping peacefully, for what I know would be the first time in months.
In a coffin. You’re in a coffin, the wood stained with tears of grief, not least my own.
And it’s all my fault.
***
Sometimes I love my inspiration. Perhaps you do as well? Let me know, darlings! :)