A Prompt Response - 1. Prompt 270

Prompt 270 - First Line: “Because, I’m leaving you.”

“Because, I’m leaving you.”

Aaron can’t get those words out of his head and the sadness behind them, the tremble in Ben’s voice, the exact timbre and the long pause after that first word all echo inside his mind and will not leave him. Images of Ben standing at the door, the look on his face agreeing with his voice, eyes red rimmed and wet, the unshaven face that was so unlike him and the bags on the floor, popping through his mind as background to those potent words. He sees flashes of a wet sleeve, disheveled hair, a belt missing that front loop in the slacks and a hand nervously shaking as Ben reaches for his bags all forced into the mix in random rotation.

His head a throbbing whiskey mess from throwing J.W. down like a drowning man last night isn’t helping anything. Aaron knows that the alcohol hasn’t processed completely; the room spins a little when he thinks about it. “Fuck!” He jumps off the couch from where he passed out in a drunken stupor and just makes it to the kitchen sink before losing the contents of his roiling stomach. He grabs a handful of paper towels and wipes his face. “Son of a bitch.” Staring mindlessly down at the mess in the sink, he is not sure what to do next.

It was one of those awful days that happen every so often at work. His boss chewed him out first thing in the morning for leaving an important piece of information out of a prospectus he had prepared the day before. Co-workers seemed to fall out of the woodwork to lay their problems on his desk for editing. They are either too lazy or too stupid to figure things out for themselves; whatever the reason, it just adds to his workload when he is already in a bad fucking mood. Lunch is not any better. He orders a well-done burger and fries and on first bite, the spurting juices taste of blood. He sends it back, his appetite ruined and orders a double Jack, downs it and goes back to work. The rest of the workday does not improve for him and he misses a very important call.

Aaron is glad to be home. He knows that Ben will have dinner ready and that they will sit on the couch after, watch a few shows on TV and Ben will cuddle up close like he always does. He also knows that later, if he shows even the slightest interest that he wants to fuck, that Ben will be receptive and eager. Ben never turns him down, never. Therefore, when he walks inside from the garage and does not smell dinner he is surprised. He walks into the dining room, sets his briefcase down on the dining table and hearing a scuffing sound, heads toward the living room, and finds Ben standing in the hall, the front door open behind him. He looks so forlorn that Aaron immediately starts forward to comfort him but stops short at the sight of the bags sitting at Ben’s feet. He looks at Ben, looks down at the bags and then back up confused and Ben utters those awful words.

“Because, I’m leaving you.”

Aaron watches Ben reach down, pick up his bags and without a backward glance walk out the door kicking it shut behind him. At first, he just stands there, confused. His mind loses grip and without warning or intent, he grabs the nearest object and throws it at the door. A small bronze mat weight that he and Ben had bought on a trip to China town lingers there in the dent that it makes before falling to lay on the hardwood floor. “Motherfucker!” Aaron explodes and sweeps the many mementos lining the foyer table off to land scattered near the mat weight. A particularly fragile piece of ceramic that Ben’s mother gifted to them on their first Christmas together, shatters among the more solid things. Like his actions, his breath comes in fast explosions, his chest heaving to catch air. It registers in a small part of his mind that Ben would be crying and attempting to gather all of the pieces of that fucking ceramic if he were here and it halts any further violence for the moment.

The next thing he does is to go to the wet bar in the pantry and pick up the Johnnie Walker. His hands are not shaking and he pours an easy stream into the Glencairn glass. This he admires momentarily as he swirls the amber liquid in the glass. Abruptly he knocks it back, he barely tastes it, but the burn feels like heaven to him. He pours himself another, grabs the bottle and carries it with him to the living room where he lashes out in a vocal and sometime violent tirade.

“Go on, leave ya fuckin’ bastard, see if I care. I work my ass off day after fucking day to take care of you.” Aaron splashes whiskey out of his glass as he gestures with it. When he feels the wetness on his hand, he sets it on one of the coasters that Ben convinced him of needing two years ago after they painstakingly pick out just the right coffee table. Aaron wipes his hand on his pant leg as the anger builds up in his head. He picks up the glass and swallows the contents just as he did the first glass. The burn feels equally as good and the alcohol fires the confusion in his head and the pain of abandonment. The empty glass joins the mess in the entry hall. “You’re lucky you didn’t stick around to talk about whatever the fuck it was. I think would I have killed you.” He announces this aloud to the room, to Ben and to himself. Aaron knows that he would never knowingly injure Ben. He has always been the protector. Ben is a sensitive man, cries and sniffles at the least sad moment in a movie or TV show. He leans into Aaron for a hug and kiss to make everything better no matter where they are. He wonders why it is that Ben does not want him to make this better.

Aaron gets up for another glass, he mumbles to himself that he would have to know what was wrong before he can fix it. He thinks about food since he hasn’t eaten anything since the power bar during break this afternoon. The thought of cooking he dismisses and the idea of facing someone at the door with that fucking mess, which he does not intend to clean up anytime soon, discourages him from calling for take-out. Heading back into the living room and another drink seems like the best idea until he wakes the next morning and the bottle is nearly empty and he finds himself staring at his vomit in the kitchen sink.

The smell causes his stomach to heave again but nothing comes up, he rinses the sink out with a promise to wash it later. His tongue feels like leather and he realizes his breath is part of the reason for the smell that is turning his stomach. Aaron pushes away from the sink and on his way to the bedroom begins pulling off pieces of clothing as he bumps into a wall now and again. He is still a bit drunk and the notion of it surprises him until he remembers that he has not eaten anything in quite some time. Still, toothpaste and a shower are his first priorities. He figures that he can sort out the rest later. The bedroom is immaculate he notices this right away. Of course, it is always immaculate, when not in use. Ben keeps the house spotless. This sudden confrontation with the neatly empty room saddens Aaron immensely and he misses the letter resting on his pillow as he rushes to the bathroom.

Still slightly damp and feeling refreshed, Aaron walks to the dresser, opens his underwear drawer and grabs a pair of black trunks. He stares at the dresser trying to decide if he should open Ben’s underwear drawer. It is empty and Aaron swallows hard to choke back a sudden sob that tries to escape. It is when he is pulling on his trunks that he notices the letter and the trunks fall to the floor, forgotten. The sob that arises is not contained so easily this time and escapes him. “Oh!” The cry is short, sharp and deep and his body quakes as he reaches for the letter.

Aaron,

I tried to forget. I tried not to think of it but I can’t stop. It hurts so badly and no matter what I do, I cannot keep the tears from coming and the heartache is killing me. Why did you do it? Do you hate me? I think I have loved you since that first silly date in the park. Do you remember? We got soaked from that surprise thunderstorm and you took off your wet shirt and held it over my already wet head to keep the rain off. There has never been anyone else for me. Why wasn’t I enough for you? Have I done something wrong, I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to look at you, I can’t.

He came to me, that person you fucked when I went to visit my mom. He saw me sitting with David when we went out for drinks last night and he walked over while David went off to the restroom. David was gone long enough. He told me of how he met David and his friend Aaron and what a hot guy you were. What a good fuck you were! I sat there stunned, unable to say a word and he kept talking and talking. Telling me, what you two did and he described your cock. The same cock, Aaron that you have put inside me so many times. He knew it just as I do. Do you have any idea what that was like for me. To hear him tell me, those horrible, awful things that you did while I screamed inside my head. I wanted him to stop talking and I could not say anything.

David dragged him away from the table when he came back and I could see him yelling at him. He looked at me Aaron and there was pity on his face. Pity from the person you fucked. David apologized but he is not the one is he? I’m surprised that he didn’t call you at work today. I expected that he would and that you would come home, I feared it. I wanted time to sort it out in my head. I tried to rationalize it, make sense of it somehow but I cannot, I just cannot. I loved you so much.

Is this the first Aaron or has there been more? Have I been a fool all this time, thinking that we were making love all these years? I am not sure anymore and that hurts me so bad. You didn’t notice anything last night when I came home either. I thought that you would but you didn’t. How long has it been since you lost the desire to pay any real attention to me? Have I been seeing what I wanted to see?

I am going to Mom’s and I don’t think you should call or try to fly out. I need time to make decisions Aaron. I told Mom that we are fighting and that I needed a little time away but that I did not want to talk about it. I’m empty Aaron, I feel so lost and alone.

Ben does not sign the letter, there is no need, and Aaron with an anguished cry, slams his fist into the headboard. He does not feel it right away because of the alcohol, and the pain relievers that he took while in the bathroom; he breaks his hand and two fingers. Later he will regret this action and the trip to the emergency room but it works out to his benefit nonetheless. Aaron has only ever cheated on Ben the one time, six months ago. He was out with David and they two got very drunk one weekend night while Ben was gone visiting. The younger man had come on to him relentlessly and Aaron, flattered by the attention and a little seven-year-itch, had gone to his hotel room. He had used condoms. It meant absolutely nothing to him and he regretted it as soon he managed to stagger out of the hotel at four in the morning.

Two things reverberate in Aaron’s mind as he sobs into the pillow.

The word, loved

And

“Because, I’m leaving you.”