ODAAT: Volume 1, Chapter 9

 

Chapter 9

Unwelcome Home

Hunter had this idea to spend the weekend alone in a hotel room. I never asked what brought on his sudden need for alone time, but I didn't really care. I accepted his offer and that was all he needed to hear. We didn't go far, only a few cities over. It wasn't about the distance between our house and the hotel. It was about the distance between us and the world. In that hotel room, the world outside didn't matter at all. It was as though we were the only two people left in the entire world. Well, us and room service. I can't deny, it was nice.

The first morning, we woke up together. There was nothing magical about waking up together, but it had been so long since it happened. Usually, one of us is up and out long before the other one. It's easier to deny our lack of interest in one another when we spend enough time away from each other. We didn't end up getting out of bed until well after noon. Even then, it was only to grab the food he ordered through room service. That hotel was our sanctuary, even if it was only temporary. It was the best sex I think we've ever had, too. It was slow, like we were discovering each other all over again. It was all about pleasing and touching. There was no rush. No finish line. We got lost in the moments, like we used to. We consumed each other, like we used to. We were in sync with each other, like we used to be. Everything felt like it used to, like we had gotten into a time machine and went back 5 years. There were moments I forgot everything that was waiting at home. I think he felt those moments too. But, we both knew they were fleeting. We could only temporarily indulge in the fantasy world that we created inside of that hotel. Reality was ever-pressing, trying to break into our bubble.

We were both reluctant to leave the hotel when it was time. I think, we both wanted to hold on. I know he did, actually. He said we should just stay. He went into a ramble. I thought it was cute, but my mind was already focused on coming home. Or rather, what coming home meant. As we left the hotel, I started to think. I thought about everything we once had. Everything we no longer had. Everything we could no longer grasp. I thought about how sad it was that everything we had was gone, but found my mind wondering about possibilities. I wondered, if we could stay connected if we had stayed in that world. It only took the opportunity to connect to feel like the flame was still burning brightly. We have both been too wrapped in our own worlds, convinced we were past the point of saving. But, maybe we have overlooked the fact that it isn't too late to make a change. As the taxi pulls into the driveway, all those thoughts are lost. The house no longer looks inviting. The dark windows look like gates to a dimension that resembles hell. I walk up to the entrance, alongside Hunter.

I drop my suitcase in the entrance, looking around. It somehow felt like less of a betrayal when we were away. Now, coming home, everything feels heavy. The distance between us has never been greater than it is right now. We've never been further away. We may have spent months convincing ourselves that everything would be okay, but we're both facing the reality that it isn't. In fact, it never will be. We can never be what we once were. The weight of the time we've spent apart is hovering in the air. It's thick, creating a wall between the two of us. I can feel the guilt has started to sink in. The nights I've spent away and the body he sleeps beside now. I can see it all spread out, like a map or diagram of how badly we've fucked this up. But I can't see around it anymore. I can't feign ignorance to the obvious reality that we've fucked this up. Again. Coming home, we've realized that. I can't deny it anymore and neither can he. It's time we stopped pretending. It's time to face the music, or lack there of. I can see he is thinking the same thing, even though the lights haven't come on. It may be hard to see in the darkness of this house, but our hearts have never had more clarity. He turns on the light, walking forward into the living room. He's dragging his feet on the floor, each step echoing throughout the empty house. I follow along behind him, grabbing a glass from the cabinet in the dining room. I walk over to the bar in the corner and pour myself a drink. I don't hesitate slamming it back, either. It seems the only way to greet this unwelcome home. Home. What a shame that it just isn't anymore.

He walks over to me and pauses. His hand reaches for my shoulder, but I feel the air as he neglects the idea and drops it back down. For a split second, I wonder what happened to us? Was it a conscious decision to let this all fall apart? His or mine? Or, was it just time? Things either evolve or they die. I think we're facing the latter. It's apparent that things have changed. I've come to accept that. It's okay to change. It is. We've changed. I've changed. Everything has changed. I'm running through our entire history in my head when his hands both grip my shoulders. He turns me to face him, trying to be graceful while putting enough force into the action to make it happen. I smile, but I think we both know it's fake. In that hotel, the pristine sheets and immaculate windows brought to light our fake reality. We only worked in such a fake environment, because we ourselves have become a charade. I think that's become pretty clear. For the first time, we're transparent. It's in cotton panties where they don't belong and the scent of a man whose too familiar to ever forget. I think he knew, deep down. Or had his own suspicions. I knew, which is all that matters. He puts one of his hands under my chin and slowly lifts my face to his. He softly presses his lips to mine and it all feels so familiar, yet strange. Because we're like strangers. We're so distant that it feels like he might be living on the moon.

It's funny because he always felt like his home was among the stars. He had his dreams about becoming the next big thing. But that's the thing about dreams. Once you've achieved them, you're left with nothing but a hollow reality that nothing comes next. Me, personally, I've made peace with living in the dirt. I take each day as they come and don't consider the future at all. I can't. It would overwhelm and depress me. Especially if this is the future we're looking forward to.

He steps back, and there's something in his eyes now. I can tell. But I know he can't bring himself to say “this isn't working”. Neither can I. We don't have to confirm or deny it anyway. We don't have to call out this fucked up relationship. We already know. He can tell in the way I hesitate when I'm with him. There's someone else on my mind and he knows that. We've been here before, too. I don't sleep in the bed upstairs. Instead I find rest in a bed with two other bodies, because Crystal sleeps in the same bed. It's too big for two people. Or that's just the way I feel when I'm with him. Everything is too big. But not in the sense that it's intimidating. It's too big because the possibilities feel endless. The opportunities. The chances. That's why I'm willing to give him the one he's asked for. I'm willing to walk away from this transparent dream.