Saturday, December 1, 2012

Graveyard


The job was fun. The money was decent.
Life was exciting. This was our time.

After a busy night of emergency duty, I would leave the hospital just after eight. It was all I could do to stay awake on the drive home in notoriously tedious rush hour traffic. He usually left before I got home in the morning. I would be gone before he came home after five. My fourteen hour night shifts and his average daytime schedule meant that we sometimes missed each other for days. But I was a night owl and the best part of a graveyard shift was working only three days a week.

The apartment was quiet. Blackout curtains in the bedroom were drawn closed and the warm, orange glow of the hurricane lamp pooled on my pillow. He had turned down the bed for me before he left. Mellow, barely audible music spread across the room from the tiny radio on the dresser. Even at nine o'clock in the morning, climbing into bed was irresistible. He did this for me.



These days, I try not to dwell on the good parts. They double-cross me. That he could be so attentive and charming through all of the mistakes...
It all becomes my fault.


6 comments:

  1. When it becomes my fault, I suddenly forget why it didn't work out. Then I wonder if things could have been different. Mind damage at its worst...

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    1. A vicious circle of damage, to say the least.

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  2. Awww that is so awesome and cute! It's a pity that things like that become really hard to maintain after a while without a lot of work. Romance dies when it meets reality, like orchids in Antarctica.

    Sometimes I think that if I hadn't been so naieve and blind I would have seen through his bullshit, but I let the charm and sense of humour blind me. Stupid little girl.

    Take care <3

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    1. Sometimes, I still feel like that stupid little girl. Not sure if that self-judgement will ever go away, but I hope it eventually does.

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  3. Reading it was surely worth the time I spent here. Love.

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