Playing the Part Ch. 12

1. All characters are 18+

2. No characters resemble real people

3. Enjoy the fiction

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CHAPTER 12

--

I read Serena's letter over and over, and it drove me fucking crazy. And crazy people do crazy things.

I'm not entirely sure what came over me in that moment. I dressed quickly and got in my car. I drove to the city, definitely faster than the posted speed limits. It wasn't until I got there that I realized I'd never been to Serena's apartment. I'd never asked where it was. I had no idea where to look. And, since I hadn't showered or shaved, I'd likely look like a crazy stalker if I just started asking strangers on the street. I drove around random blocks, going up and down random streets, but the city was far too big for me to find her in if I didn't know where to look.

I picked up my phone and called her, but she didn't answer. I scrolled through my phone. Who else would I call? The only people I knew who lived in the city, and who could possibly help, were my friend Eric and Serena's dad Frank. Both of them had warned me this exact thing would happen. I resolved that neither would be very helpful.

I called Serena's phone again, and this time I left a voice mail. "Serena, I love you. I drove to the city and realized I don't know where you live. I'm driving home now. If you don't want to be with me, I'll have to learn to accept it. But I'm betting that's not what you want. I know because I love you, and you love me, and we need to be together. Please, please call me back."

--

I'm not a big drinker normally, and I generally don't like drinking alone. I had heard once that it was a sign of alcoholism. I might drink one beer by myself, but that's it. It was a pretty good rule of thumb.

I broke that rule today. When I got home from the city, my stupid brain decided I was feeling too many things. So, I grabbed a bottle of whiskey I kept in the cupboard, and took a good swallow straight from the bottle. It numbed my tongue. The second swallow numbed more. Several minutes and several sips later, my brain was fuzzy. Good. Numb and fuzzy is what I wanted. Maybe if I stayed this way, I could forget.

Except I couldn't forget. Even with a good buzz, I couldn't not think about Serena. I drank more, and thought about her more, so I drank even more. It was a vicious cycle.

The bottle had only been half-way full to begin with. Maybe a little less than that. Doesn't matter. What matters is that I finished it. Then I got angry at it. With tears in my eyes, I yelled at the empty bottle, as if it was leaving me too, and threw it violently against the wall, smashing it into shards. I got up from the table, intent on looking for another bottle, and realized too late that my legs were wobbly. I fell down on the kitchen floor.

The last thing I thought, on my way down, before blacking out completely, was how today was supposed to be a good day, and it turned out to be one of the worst days of my life.

--

I woke up with a towel folded under my head, a bucket in front of my face, and a red sports drink nearby with a sticky note on it. I sat up, probably too quickly, and grabbed the bucket to catch my vomit. I recalled, as I puked, I hadn't eaten breakfast, or anything that day, so it was only alcohol in my stomach. Well, now it was in the bucket.

When I had expelled every drop of moisture in my body, I grabbed the red drink. The sticky note was blurry at first, but when I blinked the text came into focus. It read: 'I came by to check on you and found you passed out drunk. I cleaned up your mess. Text me when you come to. - Jen'

I looked over at the wall. The glass shards that used to be my whiskey bottle were gone. I drank half the bottle of sports drink in one go, then found my phone to text Jen. There were three missed calls, all from Serena, but no voicemails. I texted Jen: 'I'm up. Thanks friend.'

A minute went by before I got her response. 'Good. No more drinking. I'll come by after work, around 4:00.'

I looked at the clock and saw it was almost 3:00 now. I finished the drink, cleaned up the bucket o' vomit, then took a shower and put on fresh clothes. I was watching TV when Jen arrived, coming into the house without knocking. "What the hell is wrong with you, you, you jackass!" she barked at me. "Are you trying to kill yourself?"

I was a little taken aback by her yelling. Jen wasn't very tall, definitely shorter than me, and only 18. But I was getting scolded by her as if she was my mother.

Jen continued her tirade. "Do you think getting shit-faced drunk is acceptable behavior?" Again, she sounded like a mother.

I looked down at my hands in my lap. I could feel her glare on me until I responded. "No."

"Then why would you do it?"

It was my turn to yell. "Because she should be here with me! I love her! And she said she loved me, but then she left, so I guess love doesn't mean shit anymore, does it? I've only loved two women in my life. One fucked around behind my back, and the other one deserted me."

Jen, to her credit, wasn't fazed by my anger. She kept up her glare, but tears welled up in her eyes. "That's not an excuse for being stupid," she said firmly. She sat down on the chair across from me. "Do you know how my brother died?"

I searched my memory and found nothing. I had forgotten that Jen had an older brother, a little younger than me. "No," I answered honestly, calmer than I had been a second ago. Maybe my blow-up had helped me sober a bit.

"He was a drug addict. He used to go on rants like the one you just had when he was high. Then he overdosed. We found him in his apartment one morning, dead on the floor." Her tears began to run more fluidly down her cheeks. "When I found you earlier, I thought..." She didn't complete the sentence.

I immediately felt guilty. Somewhere in her mind, I had become a big brother figure. A makeshift replacement brothers. I was her friend and confidant, and I helped her resolve issues with her parents.

"I'm sorry," was all I could say.

She nodded. I stood and held out my arms, and she rushed in for a hug. I didn't let her go for several minutes. "I'm sorry I did that to you," I finally said, breaking minutes of silence. "I have no excuse. I was selfish."

"Why did you do it?" she asked, calming down.

"I was trying to forget about her. About how I feel." It was my turn to cry a little. "I still love her."

"She still loves you." Jen told me. She saw disbelief on my face, and added, "Who do you think told me to check on you?"

I was puzzled. "Serena did that?"

"She tried to call you and you didn't answer. She was worried."

"Then why did she leave?" I asked, upset again. "She's never coming back."

Jen shrugged. "I honestly don't know."

We sat in silence for a few more minutes. It was now going on 5:00. I had planned to spend the whole day with Serena, including dinner.

"Want to have dinner with me?" I asked Jen. "I have all this food I was going to cook for her tonight. It would be wasted if I didn't make it." Jen hesitated, so I added, "Call Heather. She's invited too, if that helps."

Jen slowly nodded. I think she knew my real reason for asking: I didn't want to be alone right now. "Okay. I think I can convince her to come over."

--

Jen and Heather ate dinner with me, and spent a little while with me after, but they both left around 10:00. I suppose it would be a bit weird to ask two 18-year-old girls to stay the night with me. But, when they left, Jen had also found and taken my remaining liquor bottles. I guess I should be thankful for that. I had given her one more hug as she left, thanking her and calling her "little sister."

When they left, it was quiet. I didn't know what to do. I looked at the phone. I could call Serena. But I also knew I couldn't. There was no way I could assemble the words to form coherent sentences. I also didn't want to call Eric.

I went upstairs to go to bed, but as I looked in the bedroom, all I could think of was Serena. The sheets still carried her scent. I burst into tears and fled the room. That bed would forever be empty because she wasn't in it.

I ended up on the couch, watching mind-numbing TV until I passed out there.

--

Monday morning, I went to work. I gruelled through the day, still feeling all the physical and emotional effects of last night. I texted with Jen, letting her know I was okay. But I still couldn't bring myself to call or text Serena. She didn't call me either. I guessed that Jen had told her I wasn't dead.

Tuesday was the same. And Wednesday. I realized something by Thursday afternoon. I was playing a part. It was like when I was on stage: I was portraying emotions and saying words that weren't really mine. I was acting normal. I was forcing myself to go to work, be productive, come home, eat dinner, and sleep. But there was no internal joy or satisfaction to any of it. To the world, I was fine, but on the inside, I was broken. Any smile I made was a mask, a falsehood, a lie.

That Thursday night, it was pouring rain. A real soaker of a storm. It suited my melancholy mood. I was trying to watch another dumb TV show when Eric tried to video-call me. I declined the call. He tried again a minute later. 'Stubborn ass', I thought. I accepted his second attempt.

"Hey, Patrick," he said, comfortingly. "Haven't heard from you in a while."

"Checking in?" I said sarcastically. "And you can call me Pat again."

"Well, you're in a mood."

I sighed. "Sorry. I'm not mad at you."

"I know."

"I've had a rough week."

"Yeah. I talked to Jen about it. How are you today?"

I explained my whole 'playing the part' theory. "Nothing is genuine," I told him, "Life continues, but I'm not living it, I'm just tolerating it."

"So, what are you going to do?" he asked.

"Do? What do you mean?"

Eric said, "Patrick, Pat, whatever you want to be called now, you have to do something to shake out of this funk you're in. If you don't like life the way it is, do something different to make it better."

I thought about that. "It's good advice. But it's hard to settle for better when you've already had the best. Serena is the only person I want."

"Have you called her?"

"Not since Sunday, no. She hasn't called me either."

"Doesn't matter if she hasn't called. You have things to say. Call her."

"But what if she..." I couldn't finish the sentence.

"You'll never know what she thinks until you call her. Bye." Eric ended the call.

I stared at my phone. I didn't want to. But Eric was right. It was past 9:00, but time no longer mattered. I picked it up and called.

It rang. But not just in my phone. It was ringing outside of the phone too.

The ringing was coming from my front porch.

I flung open the door. There stood a figure that was the most lovely thing I'd ever seen, despite the fact that she was soaked to the bone. Her hair clung to her cheeks and her clothes were absolutely drenched. Her eye makeup was running down her face, but I wasn't sure if that was due to the rain, as it was clear she was crying. She held her ringing phone in her hands.

Serena looked into my eyes and I pulled her in from the rain. My own clothes were wet from holding her close to my body. No words were necessary. She was here, and that was all I wanted.

--

Ten minutes later, I had her strip out of her wet clothes. I didn't have any clothes in her size, but I had to make do with some of my old boxers, a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie. Not form-fitting on her, by far, but much dryer and warmer. I also had to change my shirt as she'd gotten me wet too.

By the time she'd changed and returned, I got warm mugs of tea for us both. She hadn't spoken yet, only nodded when I gave her the dry clothes. She didn't speak until after she'd taken her first sip of tea. "I'm sorry." Her eyes were pointed down at the mug in her hands.

"Serena, I'm sorry. I pressured you to stay when I knew you had to leave."

Serena responded. "And I'm sorry I left. I hurt you, and I hurt myself. I thought it would be easier, leaving early, but it wasn't, it hurt more." She looked up at me. "Can you forgive me?"

I gave my kindest smile. "Of course. Can you forgive me?"

"For what?" Apparently, Jen hadn't gone into detail about my drunken activity (or lack thereof) on Sunday. I told her what I'd done, starting with my crazed, aimless drive into the city. I finished by explaining why I hadn't answered her calls that day: because I'd been out cold, lying on my floor.

It made her cry a little more. "I listened to your message," she told me, "and I knew something was wrong. You sounded broken. I broke you." She started to bawl.

I held her to calm her tears again. "That's why you sent Jen."

She nodded. "I couldn't get to you, even though I wanted to. I knew Jen would help."

"She did," I assured her. "She literally yelled at me. She called me a jackass." That made Serena chuckle a bit. "And I deserved it," I continued, "And I should have called you again. But I didn't know what to say."

"I should have called you too," she admitted. Then she looked back into my eyes. "Do you know why I came here tonight?"

"Why?"

Serena told me her story. "I'd been trying to pour myself into the show, getting back into my normal life. But nothing was the same. I was acting like myself, while acting as someone else. Does that make sense?"

I smiled. "It makes perfect sense. I felt the same way all week."

"Then today, we had a late afternoon rehearsal, and it came time to kiss some other actor. And I couldn't. I looked at him, and I burst into tears, and I ran off the stage. And people ran after me, but I was breaking down, and I just had to leave. And do you know why?"

"Why?"

She looked straight into my eyes. "Because he wasn't you." Then she grabbed my face, and kissed me. Her cheeks were wet from tears, but I didn't care at all. I kissed her back with the ferocity of emotions that I'd felt the whole week without her.

When we stopped, we just held each other for a while. "Never leave me," I begged. "Please. I love you and I can't let you go again."

"I love you too. I'm never leaving. I never should have left."

--

Serena stayed at my house that night. She lay curled up in my arms, and for the first time since she left, we both got a good night's sleep.

In the morning, she told me her plan. She had to go back to the city, and quit the show. Frank would be pissed, but she'd make him accept it. She came back that evening with suitcases and boxes full of her stuff.

"I can find another place, if you think it's too soon to move in together," she offered.

"No way." I grabbed her arm and pulled her back to me. "There's no way you're living anywhere but with me. If you find a new place, I'm moving there too." So Serena moved in with me. The next few weekends, we went to her apartment and boxed up the remaining things and brought them all home.

I thought it was amusing that the first time I'd been in her apartment was when she was moving out of it. I told her so, and she kissed me. "Well then we'd better make it worthwhile, huh?" She stripped me of my t-shirt and pushed me into the bedroom. We'd already packed her sheets, but we made love on the uncovered mattress.

--

Serena's other concern was money. I made enough for my mortgage and bills and whatnot, and Serena had some good savings built up from all her shows. "All work and no play makes my bank account bigger," she quipped to me.

But, acknowledging that savings will only last so long, she needed a job. We went to Chuck and told him that Serena was staying, and Chuck immediately offered her the director job, which Serena accepted. She and Chuck would be co-directors for the year until Chuck retired, at which point Serena would take over.

Serena also got a part-time job at the high school, teaching a drama class. She was nervous about it, but Heather's sister Hannah, now a senior, signed up for it and brought several of her friends. Heather would tell us later that Hannah and her friends were excited to learn from an experienced professional. It was nice to see young people interested in the theatrical arts, and we'd soon see a few of those faces trying out for shows at the community theater.

--

Now that Serena was back, the town's gossip grapevine was all a-twitter. I called my mom first, knowing that she'd want to hear it from me than from her friends at the beauty salon or grocery store. Mom was gushingly proud that we'd found love and were holding on tight. Later that week at the grocery store, Jen joked with me about the salacious rumors she'd been hearing from Pendleton's nosiest ladies. Apparently a local boy charmed a city girl and now they were living together, imagine that?

The other immediate effect was that I had to change some of my bachelor ways. Serena and I spent lots of time finding places to put her things in the house. It was a challenge, especially in the closet. I had gotten used to having the closet to myself, but Serena had lots of luxurious dresses and needed more space, so we came to a compromise. I reorganized my clothes, and packed away some older things I rarely wore, giving her half the closet space in the master bedroom. Serena promised that any of her things that didn't fit in her half would go into the guest bedroom's closet. It worked out well, though it did make me think about moving once or twice.

Our sex life had returned to normal. The night when a drenched Serena showed up on my front step, we had just cuddled, but that very next night, she appeared in the doorway of my master bathroom wearing only black thigh-high stockings and a sexy grin. I swept her off her feet, laid her on the bed, and ate her sweet pussy until she screamed.

When I went to find a condom, she grabbed my hand and stopped me. "No more," she told me. "I want you inside me. Only you. I want you to fuck me and cum in me."

"You'll get pregnant."

She surprised me when she shrugged. "Good. If it happens, it'll be our baby."

How can a man say no to that? A gorgeous woman who loves him and wants to have his babies? My erection felt harder than it had before. I impaled Serena with it in one thrust. Then, just like we had before, we made love while staring into each other's eyes the whole time. "I love you," I told her.

"Oh! And I love you! And I love your cock in me!" she cooed. I fucked her and we maintained our eye contact, and when we came together it was like the force of a nuclear explosion. I didn't black out that time, but there was plenty of noise and sweat and emotion. Her pussy and my dick were both soaked from the combination of our fluids. And the immense amount of energy we had become sudden exhaustion, and we fell asleep, holding each other's naked body tightly, letting nothing pry us apart ever again.

--

On a night when Serena was working with Chuck on the next theater show, I called Frank. "Well, if it isn't my daughter's sweetheart," he said, answering my call.

"Hi Frank. I hope you're not mad at me."

"Why would I be mad at you?"

I gulped. "Serena quit her show because of me."

"I don't care about that. Well, I care a little. But Serena's found someone who makes her happy." He sounded like he was smiling over the phone. "Remember, you were there when we talked about me being more of a father than a manager. My pockets will be a little lighter, but that's a small price to pay to see my only daughter find love."

I was relieved. This was going well. "Well that brings me to the other reason for my call..."

--

As usual, there was no rehearsal on Fridays, so it became our regular date night. This Friday, I had special plans. I told Serena I was taking her to a nice dinner, so she dressed up. Her navy blue dress and heels looked amazing on her. However, when we got to the restaurant, they handed me a to-go bag. Serena was confused and followed me back to the car. "What was that? Where are we going?"