He lifts the colored glass to his lips, he doesn’t even taste the fiery liquid he’s draining down his throat. His movements are so dejected and hopeless. He hasn’t shaved in a while, his clothes are dirty and rumpled. His mood seems to match the atmosphere. The decor in the tiny motel room he’s living in is outdated. The place has a run down, dark feeling. The shades are drawn, clothes are strewn across the floor and the bed which he is using as a seat is unmade. He paid her and she left, no strings attached, but he misses her. How long has it been? Weeks? Months? He kneels clumsily to the floor and sweeps his hand under the bed, a wooden picture frame skitters across the floor and he picks it up. His vision is blurred by whiskey and tears.
“I miss you.” the words come out as a sob, his shoulders are hunched and his posture broken. He reaches for his phone and dials her number, praying that she’ll pick up, if only she’ll have him back, he knows he’ll change and be the man she needs him to be.
She wakes with a start, it was so real, so clear, he was here with her again, his arms around her, she looks at the face next to hers on the pillow and reality hits, he’s gone. She reaches into the top drawer of the dresser next to her bed and pulls out a wooden picture frame, tracing his features with a slender finger, she allows the tears to come as she reminisces the good times with him. Their first kiss, the proposal, she feels for the ring hanging on the chain around her neck. He left before the wedding, she’d called him every day for weeks and finally gave up. Cried herself sick and got over him, moved on, or tried. Now she was with someone else and he treated her well, they were married with a child on the way. But she wondered if he ever missed her. She still thought about him every day and she wondered if it was wrong.
“I miss you.” the words come out as a sob, her cell phone rings, she looks over at her sleeping husband and then at the caller ID, it’s him. She rejects the call and reaches to unfasten the chain around her neck, “I loved you. But you’re too late.” She puts the necklace and ring on top of the picture frame and shoves it deeper into the drawer, face down. Then slipping back under the covers, she presses against her husband’s back, drawing on his strength and heat.
Her phone beeps. A new voice message.
“Hey babe it was crazy to call at this time of night, I don’t know I guess I just called to say I love you I wanna come back home.” He sets his phone next to him on the bed and lays back, the Whiskey finally taking effect and knocking him unconscious.
He drives the three hours back to his hometown, where they met and dated, got engaged and would have gotten married if he could have been satisfied, his heart is half hopeful and half hopeless. He knows he doesn’t deserve her forgiveness and is stupid to hope that she would even wait around. He drives by her old house several times trying to get courage to go talk to her. Finally he parks and walks slowly across the street, glowing with early morning light. A hesitant knock on the front door and he’s answered by a man, about his build, good looking, young, puzzled.
“Can I help you?”
“I was just looking for Sheryl Rock, but she probably doesn’t even live here anymore, sorry to waste your time.” Then as an afterthought, “Who are you?”
“I’m Sheryl’s husband. Would you like to talk to her? She’s right inside.” he offers.
“No. That’s alright. Treat her right man, you’re one lucky guy.” and he turns away, hands in his pockets, not looking back, he crosses the street back to his car, leaving behind the only girl who would ever truly love him, his only shot at true happiness, wasted by cheap temporary pleasure.
She’s quieter than normal, thinking about her dream, thinking about her decision to leave him in the past and move on. Her husband asks if she’s okay and she brushes him off,
“Fine, just tired.” He sits with her in the silence, and she can feel his support and love. A knock on the front door interrupts their breakfast. The husband answers the door. She hears a male voice. Familiar. But she can’t make out the words. When her husband comes back she looks at him inquisitively.
“A guy looking for a Sheryl Rock.” Her husband says quietly. Her eyes jerk from her food to his face and a look passes between them, silent communication. He’d come in search of her, finally, gotten sick of his wild living and realized what he had given up. She was surprised to find a small glimmer of hope and gratefulness, when she lost him, she thought she’d never be whole again, but turns out sometimes a broken heart is a blessing in disguise.
Inspired by the song "Picture" by Kid Rock and Sheryl Crowe ... November 29, 2012
“I miss you.” the words come out as a sob, his shoulders are hunched and his posture broken. He reaches for his phone and dials her number, praying that she’ll pick up, if only she’ll have him back, he knows he’ll change and be the man she needs him to be.
She wakes with a start, it was so real, so clear, he was here with her again, his arms around her, she looks at the face next to hers on the pillow and reality hits, he’s gone. She reaches into the top drawer of the dresser next to her bed and pulls out a wooden picture frame, tracing his features with a slender finger, she allows the tears to come as she reminisces the good times with him. Their first kiss, the proposal, she feels for the ring hanging on the chain around her neck. He left before the wedding, she’d called him every day for weeks and finally gave up. Cried herself sick and got over him, moved on, or tried. Now she was with someone else and he treated her well, they were married with a child on the way. But she wondered if he ever missed her. She still thought about him every day and she wondered if it was wrong.
“I miss you.” the words come out as a sob, her cell phone rings, she looks over at her sleeping husband and then at the caller ID, it’s him. She rejects the call and reaches to unfasten the chain around her neck, “I loved you. But you’re too late.” She puts the necklace and ring on top of the picture frame and shoves it deeper into the drawer, face down. Then slipping back under the covers, she presses against her husband’s back, drawing on his strength and heat.
Her phone beeps. A new voice message.
“Hey babe it was crazy to call at this time of night, I don’t know I guess I just called to say I love you I wanna come back home.” He sets his phone next to him on the bed and lays back, the Whiskey finally taking effect and knocking him unconscious.
He drives the three hours back to his hometown, where they met and dated, got engaged and would have gotten married if he could have been satisfied, his heart is half hopeful and half hopeless. He knows he doesn’t deserve her forgiveness and is stupid to hope that she would even wait around. He drives by her old house several times trying to get courage to go talk to her. Finally he parks and walks slowly across the street, glowing with early morning light. A hesitant knock on the front door and he’s answered by a man, about his build, good looking, young, puzzled.
“Can I help you?”
“I was just looking for Sheryl Rock, but she probably doesn’t even live here anymore, sorry to waste your time.” Then as an afterthought, “Who are you?”
“I’m Sheryl’s husband. Would you like to talk to her? She’s right inside.” he offers.
“No. That’s alright. Treat her right man, you’re one lucky guy.” and he turns away, hands in his pockets, not looking back, he crosses the street back to his car, leaving behind the only girl who would ever truly love him, his only shot at true happiness, wasted by cheap temporary pleasure.
She’s quieter than normal, thinking about her dream, thinking about her decision to leave him in the past and move on. Her husband asks if she’s okay and she brushes him off,
“Fine, just tired.” He sits with her in the silence, and she can feel his support and love. A knock on the front door interrupts their breakfast. The husband answers the door. She hears a male voice. Familiar. But she can’t make out the words. When her husband comes back she looks at him inquisitively.
“A guy looking for a Sheryl Rock.” Her husband says quietly. Her eyes jerk from her food to his face and a look passes between them, silent communication. He’d come in search of her, finally, gotten sick of his wild living and realized what he had given up. She was surprised to find a small glimmer of hope and gratefulness, when she lost him, she thought she’d never be whole again, but turns out sometimes a broken heart is a blessing in disguise.
Inspired by the song "Picture" by Kid Rock and Sheryl Crowe ... November 29, 2012
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