Fiction On Odyssey: The Morning After
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Fiction On Odyssey: The Morning After

The End of What Used to Be

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Before you read this, check out the first piece that this is based off of. This is a continuation of the other and it may or may not answer questions some people had after reading the first one.


The sun threatens to burn through my eyelids and I turn back to it, hoping to keep them closed for a little while longer. But I can't because Britney Spears blares loudly through the phone.

I don't have her as a ring tone for anyone. What the he-

Then I remember last night. Bits and pieces coming back to me as if I was the one who was drinking. I turn back over to find my ex, snoring loudly at the same volume of the phone. I remove the extra pillow keeping my head propped and throw it, hitting him right in the face. His head shoots up like the weeds in the garden I said I'd tame. Eventually, I'd get to them.

His arm juts out, had to clamor on the coffee table before finally getting his phone and answering the call.

I turn back over, my efforts to sleep a bit more thwarted by Brittney. I blink a couple times and stretch, hoping that he'll leave as quickly as he came.

"Yeah, I'll be there babe."

Wait, babe?

"Of course I remember. You made sure of that last night."

I watch him roll his eyes as screaming comes through the phone, inaudible but familiar.

"One o'clock right? Okay then. Bye."

I look over at him and I begin to feel flustered. He doesn't say anything to me and he doesn't look at me, but I know that this is another one of the mistakes he promised to never make again. But not to me. I can still remember all the times where I was the one screaming at him through the phone. And now replacing that nostalgia with shame since I'm one reason that he never went home last night.

"You have a girlfriend?" I shout. Or ask. A mix of the two that all women have become familiar with.

"You're my ex, remember? God, am I not allowed to have a girlfriend now?"

My ex pulls his shirt over his head, stands up and buttons his jeans.

"You know that would have been nice if you mentioned her. You know, when you told me you screwed up."

"What did you expect? I was drunk!"

"You're always drunk!"

I launch off the couch and head into my kitchen. I grip the cool granite counter and begin to count.

1

"Look I never meant for this to happen."

2

"Yeah, okay. I have been thinking about you lately-"

3

"But I'm worried-"

4

"And now I don't know what to do-"

5

I let go of the breath I was holding in and let go of the counter at the same time.

"Get out."

The words force themselves past my lips before I can even catch my breath. Or even begin to process the past twelve hours.

"Wait, what?"

He stands in front of me shocked. Maybe at the fact that I raised my voice at him like I raised my standards. Maybe even a bit nervous now that I've found my spine without him standing behind me.

"You heard me," I tell him. "Get. Out."

He stands there and I watch as his eyes dart back and forth. Possibly looking for a neon sign to flash with the word to calm me down. Or maybe he looks past me for the person that I used to be. Maybe even the nice girl that let him in last night.

So I saunter up. I are sure that when I'm standing inches from him and I have to look up at him, that he knows I'm the one looking down on him.

"You were never supposed to come here last night. You don't think I know you're fighting with your girlfriend?"

"Wait, how did you-"

"You used to do the same thing to me. And here I'd hoped you'd changed."

"I have. You don't know me."

I laugh, so hard I have to step back to allow air to fill the space between us and my lungs. It's like I haven't laughed all year. When I'm done laughing, I walk over to the couch he slept on and pick up his few belongings. He watches me walk past him and to my front door, where I dump his stuff on the front steps.

"Bye."

I stand there with a hand on my hip and a hand on the door, holding it open for him. When he walks out the door, I slam the door shut. The sound that fills my apartment for a few seconds is my unspoken promise to never to open the door for him again.

I take a deep breath and walk back to my sofa and sit staring outside my windows. With a slice of what's left of last night's pizza in my hand, I can't help but think of how beautiful the sun is pouring over all of the last traces of the darkness.

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This article has not been reviewed by Odyssey HQ and solely reflects the ideas and opinions of the creator.
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