A fight. A disagreement. An argument. Tension. It doesn’t matter why.
I’m not getting what I need, neither is he. He doesn’t know my half of it though, he doesn’t know what happened. I’d never be strong enough to tell him.
I can feel where this is going. This is an all too familiar feeling. An all too familiar script:
A broken girl at the end of the night, alone with nothing but herself, her thoughts, and a bottle of liquor. Self inflicted battle wounds and hangovers sure to come the next day, if the next day comes at all.
We’ve done this dance before.
Tonight was different.
Pills and a few drinks later (it’s barely 5pm) I tell him where I see this night headed. I tell him how I envision it going. I see myself in the bathroom with all the worst parts of me making the decisions.
I told him the truth, I told him how much I didn’t want that.
He softened immediately. It’s like he heard me for the for first time. He gave me what I needed, he met me halfway.
He became present.
I don’t know why, maybe he realized he was being (truly) unreasonable. Maybe he realized the stakes. Maybe he just felt bad for his actions and let go of his pride.
Whatever the reason, he came back.
Maybe tonight won’t be so tragic after all.