Someone That I Used To Know

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

Those may only seem like two words but when they come from someone you were intimate with, someone you talked to all the time. Someone you shared fears and dreams with, those two words are so much more. A blast text that was probably sent to a hundred people makes you simply, “someone that I used to know.”

You think about what she’s cooking, how she probably stayed up all night to make sure it was perfect. You think about what she’s wearing and how it’s going to be sexy enough to frame her curves but classy enough because she’s around family.

“Happy Thanksgiving.”

It’s two words that are supposed to mean, “Have a good day,” or “eat plenty of turkey and dressing.” But instead those two words mean, “You’re just someone I used to know.”

You wonder who she’s calling to talk about how excited she is about Black Friday sales. You wonder who she has tasting the food to make sure it’s good. You wonder who stayed up with her while she was cooking because even though she hates to admit it; she hates being alone during the Holidays.

When the BlackBerry lights up and you see it’s a text from her you wonder if she’s asking you about your family or wanting to bring you a plate. You wonder if she wanted to know whether or not you miss her. But instead all you see is, “Happy Thanksgiving.”

Memories fade over time.

Romantic moments become pictures in a Facebook album or in a closet in a box.

Texts are deleted and the heart opens up to someone else.

But a couple times a year, there will always be the “Happy Thanksgiving” text of the world that remind you that on this day you’re alone. The only thing keeping you company is your words, your imagination, your memories and your bottle.

Because for as much as family loves you, the only substitute for a woman’s touch is another woman’s touch.

Resentment Passion and Hate…

I asked her to marry me. She said she wouldn’t accept the ring unless I promised her it was over between Alexis and I. That was the first time I lied to her and up until tonight it was the only time I lied to her. I needed her in my life, she wasn’t the woman I dreamed about every night but she was a good woman. She loved me more than I loved myself I think. She believed in me more than anyone had ever believed in me outside of Lex. I knew her love ran deep, it ran borderline crazy but that’s what I needed.

There would always be someone in the relationship that loved harder than the next person. Always someone that needed the other person more. I tried to compensate for not giving her my all with material things, with always being there but she knew… She had to have known. And when looking at her every morning became too much, when seeing I’d never match the intensity of her passion started to eat me alive and I knew keeping her from having the man she deserved was selfish… I made up my mind to let her go.

And the same night I walked into our home with a U-Haul receipt in my back pocket and a storage receipt in my glove compartment she told me she was pregnant.

“It’s a boy Allen. I feel it in my heart, it’s a boy.” And even with her stomach flat and my eyes open I felt the skin over her belly button and knew that I couldn’t leave. I wouldn’t be my father, I wouldn’t walk away from my child, from the woman that was carrying my child. A part of me knew she did this on purpose, she took her birth control regularly but what done was done and I’d be a man about it.

That was eight months ago. Tonight.

Tonight….

Tonight I was sitting in a waiting room, my eyes red, blood in the tips of my nails. Waiting, hoping that would come out and say they were both okay. My conscience wouldn’t let me ask for the health of my son and wish for the death of his mother. I called no one, not her parents, her friends, her sister. I couldn’t deal with the questions, the accusations, the lies. They’d find out soon enough and they’d come but now I needed to pray, to grieve for the child that I knew was lost, in my heart,… I knew.

Pacing the hallway, the tears falling and the sounds of my heart beating and my shoes hitting the sterile floor driving me insane I leaned against the wall and fell to my knees. I screamed on the inside at God for punishing me for my selfishness! I screamed at myself for pushing her to the point of no return, knowing how deep her love for me ran. As my tears fell and my agony engulfed me I felt her standing over me. Falling to the cold floor her warm skin pressed against mine. Her being here was wrong, she was the reason she pressed the knife into her stomach. But having her breath on my neck, having her body on my body was the only thing that was stopping me from slitting my wrist. I love you she said, the words like gasoline on a wound. I need you I said, my voice betraying my duties to the woman and child that needed me. I had to decide but now wasn’t the time…

“I’m sorry but I have some bad news.” Is what the doctor said as he saw me embraced with another woman on the hospital floor. The look in his eyes told me that one of them was dead or maybe both. I held her hand and prepared myself for the worst.