You never would let us leave. I remember it… distinctly.
The room was revolting. That awful, mud-brown, flowered wallpaper and the stench of damp still haunts me to this day. If I would have had any say in the matter, we would have left as soon as I set eyes on that receptionist. His resemblance to the American hillbilly was uncanny and I’m positive those brown stains he told us were coffee, weren’t coffee.
Did he not realise he was talking to a New Yorker?
I’ve split far too much coffee on my own white shirts for work to be fooled into believing that ‘mess’ was ‘coffee stains’.
You just smiled. “He’s friendly though.”
You were never judgemental, though that was my biggest flaw. Every upper-class New Yorker’s biggest flaw.
I examined the room we were assigned. I insisted we left but you wouldn’t. It was midnight, the moon shining big and bright in the sky. You knew we were both tired but I begged to drive just another few hours to find us a better place. You just wouldn’t let me. I remember. You wore that cute pink summer dress that you told me your dad got you last year for spring break. I must admit, it was adorable. Your light brown hair was growing long back then, also more ginger. You hated me saying it but I was just being honest. I loved it. Seriously, even when I tried to suggest it had just a “very, very, very small tint” of ginger you would ignore me for the whole of the car ride, sitting with your headphones in and avoiding all eye contact with me as we drove. It amused me, which annoyed you more.
I remember you still had them daisies in your hair from that hippy festival the evening before. The boho glasses that drunken girl gave you.Fuck! they had caused countless arguments between us that night when you thought you’d lost them.
It makes me laugh.
You were admiring the moon whilst I was still critiquing everything. You just didn’t care. It was evident. You found joy in the small things; the moonlight and the starry sky. I remember you pointed out that tree occupied with bats just outside our window. I would have never have noticed otherwise, completely overlooked it.
That made me smile.
It made me realise that maybe it wasn’t so bad after all. Yet, I knew you would never let us leave anyway. I remember it distinctly.
Who’d have thought that was twenty years ago?
Who’d have thought we’d go to bed and you’d never wake up?
I thought you’d quit injecting that shit.
You broke my heart, you stupid girl.