He finally got in touch with me after three days of absolute hell. It was hard, hearing him beg and plead gently for me to come back. Uttering, “This is so fucking hard…” repeatedly. Each time it was like a knife piercing into my heart until I started hearing myself sigh heavily, trying to not cry.
“I will be back,” I kept saying, “I’m trying so Goddamn hard to get there the 27th you’ve no idea. I will be back and when I am, we are going to immediately curl up in bed together and just hold onto each other.”
He muttered something, clearing his throat and repeating it. “You better fucking come back and yes we will.”
I was really distraught when the line cut out, but it wasn’t my line. It was his as he had forgotten to pay the bill and he was cut off service at that time.
I kept repeating, “Fuck fuck fuck” as I tried dialing,but couldn’t get him back.
Then out of the blue Friday he touches base, stating he’s doing better. He misses me. However, he’s doing better. He’s coherent. Making sense and apologetic about his behaviour when I was there.
He’s busy tonight. He received another track to work on from the band he’s mastering for at this time. So he said goodnight half a dozen times, a few miss you’s and I love you’s and here I am.
Waiting for my hair to dry so I can straighten it.
Tomorrow I meet up with my BFF.
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