You were in the backseat, drunk as hell, as I drove you home through the snowy evergreens. I’d grown so used to being your chauffeur when you were too drunk that I slept in my clothes on the nights you went out with the boys. You’d text me incoherent messages until they woke me up at an hour of the morning that still felt like night and I’d drive to the bar you lived at more than your home.
Slurring your speech, you begged me to stay as I pulled into the driveway. You said I couldn’t leave you now, that you just wanted to fall asleep next to me. I hated you for getting drunk and making me feel like you loved me, I routinely fell for it. I could see that you only cared for me when you needed something from me, but I couldn’t bring myself to erase you from my life. I wanted and needed your love but you only needed my help.
You were too heavy for me to really support you but I kept you from falling on the icy cement and led you to your unmade bed. When you tried to pull me onto the bed with you I backed away. You stared at me, confused, unsure why I would try to refuse. I backed up into the cold wall of your room and you told me to stop being stupid and to come lay down next to you. Your eyes were bloodshot in the early morning light and your shirt was wet from some drink you spilled. I felt disgusted by you for the first time in my life as I saw what a mess you were. I grabbed the little trashcan from your bathroom and put it next to your bed then walked out of the room before my loneliness could change my mind. You called out to me but I could barely hear you as I walked out the front door. I sat in the cold silence of my car in the driveway for a few minutes to see if I was wrong, that you really did care for me, but you never came out.
I drove quietly away and away and away.