Dedicated to.. | Chapter 6: I’ll Always Remember Her
A Collection of Short Stories on the Flower That Grew From Concrete
I’ll always remember her.
She was from New Jersey, went to school in the city, and upon graduating, had established her life there. Like most bridge and tunnel folk, living in New York was always her dream.
It was always my dream as well.
I had just moved to New York after graduating college when we met on a blind date through mutual friends.
On our first date, I learned that she didn’t drink, but she mentioned that she didn’t mind if I did, so I ordered a cocktail.
The first date turned into a second, the second date turned into a third, and by the fourth date, we both had established a love for each other.
She could tell that I was troubled inside. Maybe she was too. We bonded on that level.
I got to learn more about her that summer.
Alcoholism ran in her family, which is why she didn’t drink. At first, it seemed as if she didn’t mind my drinking. I guess I had other traits that outweighed my alcoholism.
That is until my depressive state of alcoholism would negatively impact our relationship, ultimately causing it to end.
I was fresh out of college, unemployed, and living in the big city. There really wasn’t much to celebrate, so I often became angry, irate, or downhearted when I drank. I turned into the opposite version of my usual self, the person she fell in love with.
She didn’t like the fact that I was starting to remind her of her father.
I guess I was becoming more like mine too.
I often laughed it off, followed by a false promise that it would stop or that it would never happen again.
But this time was different. Or so I told myself, and she did the same. Maybe we were both naive and blinded by love.
Many false promises became broken promises. The broken promises hurt the most. Not because of the regret attached, but for the simple fact that I genuinely cared for her. And for the first time in my life found love.
A love that I wasn’t actually dreaming about or prepared for, as my entire life, I drowned out love. I didn’t believe in it. Who needed it? Love couldn’t fill the void. But alcohol usually always helped.
The bottle was a temporary cure to my illness.
So I indulged.
There came about a time when I finally didn’t like who I became when I was drunk but unfortunately, that came much later in my twenties. I wish I could’ve figured it out earlier. Maybe things would be different today.
Back then, I was hurting deep inside, and it would hurt those that I loved and cared for.
I needed help, and she supported me in that. Multiple times there was an ultimatum that I go to therapy, or she would leave.
I didn’t like hurting her, but I also knew that I couldn’t face reality.
Then that same summer, it all came to an abrupt end.
We were leaving a bar in the East Village to head back to my place, and while walking down 14th St., blacked out, irritated, and out of my character, I verbally lashed out at her.
When I woke up the following day, she was gone, and since then, I had never heard from her again.
That same day, I scheduled my first appointment for therapy.
Chapter 7 coming soon..
DEDICATED TO..
is a collection of flash fiction short stories on the stages of life we grow through, the battle of youthfulness, and the transition into adulthood.