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Yes, I am married and lied to Lexi about it. Or more like withheld the truth—this way, it makes me feel a little better about what kind of scum I am.
I am married, but I haven’t had a wife, in the real meaning of that word, for more than five years. Ever sincethatnight,thatday,them.
I also haven’t been sober in three days, and I’m not planning to be it for the next decade or however long it will take for me to get over Lexi.
Might as well come to terms with the fact that my death is imminent, just like Jenn’s. Her doctor informed me that this last seizure was likely the very last drop in her ocean, and I should prepare myself for the worst.
Fucking joke…
The worst? The worst? Does he know whatthe worstmeans?
It certainly isn’t death.
Jennifer has been in a coma since it happened and shows no signs of coming out of it so far. And I have a strong desire to join her. Not because I feel some sick connection with my wife. No, I want to join in because there is nothing more to live for.
I am not going back to meaningless fucks and bachelor days. I don’t want any of that. I only want my Lexi back, but I can’t have her.
Not after the lies I told her.
I can’t even bring myself to call her or text her. The shame of my mistake is too grave.
Ha, funny, Lex always liked to call me shameless, and yet here I am, full of guilt and regret and that stupid shame.
What would I even say if I called her?
Sorry I’ve been lying to you for five months? Sorry, I am no better than your asshole ex?
Sorry I didn’t confess earlier, even though I had every chance?
Sorry, your father was right about me?
Sorry, I am such an idiot?
Yeah, all that is meaningless, and there isn’t an apology on this planet that will right the wrongs I’ve caused.
A few of my employees tried to come in, and needless to say, I told them to fuck off. So, I’ve barricaded myself in my office, where each corner reminds me of her, and wallow in alcohol and self-loathing. I hadn’t showered or changed clothes in four days, hoping her vanilla scent would linger on my skin a little while longer.
I couldn’t care any less about the next month’s issue or who goes on its cover. I don’t give a damn about this whole company that I’ve been carrying on my back for two years. It can all go to hell.
Today is the fourth day of my party of one, and I’m pretty sure I’ve drank too much since my brain started to hallucinate.
Her voice.
Her magical voice fills my ears as I lift my head up from the desk I’ve been sleeping on. Hmm, what I wouldn’t give to hear that voice again and not as part of my alcohol-induced hallucinations or dreams.
Come to think of it, maybe my wife had the right idea in mind when she started drinking five years ago.
I lay my head back down and enjoy Lexi’s magical voice; if it’s really a dream, then I want to keep sleeping. Except I can’t since now, someone is banging on my head, and that magical voice gets interrupted.
“Go away…” I yell out in my half-muffled, half-drunk voice at whoever dares to come into my office again.
I guess it worked since the banging stopped, and I tried to imagine her voice again, only to be rudely pulled out of my dream by cold fucking water being dumped on my head.
I jump out of the chair, yelling and thrashing around. I swear, I will fire every last one of these assholes.
“Are you done yet?” My whole body freezes, that voice. It’s my magical voice, the one from my dream, and now I hear it here in the office.
What the fuck?
