She pounded on my door for a lifetime and would have pounded all weekend if I had not eventually answered. She knew I was there and would not be ignored. I didn't want her there. She had all the rights to see the heaps of laundry and scattered trash, but I didn’t want her to see it at this time around. I opened the door a bit and told her to go away.
She said, "No." She pushed the door. She knew she could enter, and also that I was in two minds – to let her in or to make her stay out.
She wasn't strong, but was strong enough to force herself through the crack I made. She was a friend or maybe a lot more than that. She was love. But, I couldn't trust her. I couldn't trust anybody. Everybody leaves, because every love that mattered to me had already left. She knew she had to leave someday, in all probability, even if I let her be my friend. When she knew what was wrong, she would join ‘the one’s who have left’ and the sooner the better. She had interrupted me. She said, "We were supposed to go shopping today, did you forget?"
I had forgotten. I told her I didn't want to go shopping. I didn't want to go anywhere. I wanted her to leave because I didn't want anyone there. "Please just leave me the hell alone." However, she was younger than I (younger in her head too). So, I didn’t really expect her to know me better than I almost knew her.
She said, "No." She stayed.
I felt desperate. I had to get rid of her so I could take care of myself. I didn’t want anyone else to take up my responsibility. How the hell was I going to convince this girl that there were more important things in life than just shopping! I got mean. I cussed, a lot. I was drunk already and kept on drinking. She took away my bottle. I fought and lost. It was my last one and she poured it down the drain. Damn she was strong! I told her I needed a nap. I wanted to sleep.
She said, "No." She stayed.
She kept me awake. She put me in the shower. She washed me and washed my hair. It had been quite a while. It was cold, and so was I. I yelled. I screamed. I called her every evil name in the book then started making some up of my own. She dried me off and found some clean clothes from god only knows where. I told her that she had now done her good deed. She could go. “Please just get the hell out.”
She said, "No." She stayed.
I could see blurred visions of her, by the time I realised that I had passed out. She found all my bottles of beer and whisky, all lined up in a neat little row on the table. The caps were off, ready to empty. I'm nothing if not methodical. She left a note. There was little to say. It read, "I'm sorry."
There was a time when I didn’t want her to leave. Probably because I never felt the strength enough to face the emptiness inside. I’m still not. Well, whatever the fuck it is! But, I soon realised that some things which are to be done have to be done. Following what I believe in, I face an ironical situation now. I still ask her to leave.
She says “NO”. She stays. Forever she will.
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