Cindy Berube, Fall 2010
Just a night out, that’s all it is. I see him at the bar with my old friend Jose Cuervo, so close I can almost taste them. I convince myself that I won’t make the same mistake as before. I won’t fall for it, not again. The atmosphere is inviting and familiar, I have been here many times. I cannot help but let my guard and hair down. After a back and forth of should I, shouldn’t I, I weaken and take a step closer. There we are, together again.
After I reconcile what has begun, I start to unwind and welcome him back in. The night progresses and he becomes more absorbed into my system, it is so effortless and smooth. My face becomes flushed, my body warm, my judgment completely disabled. Will I fall again? That is anyone’s bet. The night continues and so does the flow of that intoxicating feeling that is all too familiar, yet so very dangerous.
Hours seem like minutes, I am in over my head. How could I have weakened? I never wanted to be here again, yet I am back. My old stomping grounds are all too familiar. The pounding of my head and my heart are marching to their own beats, the tempo of the two create a tune of nervous excitement. I need to regain my composure, self respect and run, yet my legs are too wobbly, I will fall head over heels. Unable to move, I am stuck. Stuck back in this rut that I promised myself I would never see again, I have fallen back into the grooves of temptation. The room is spinning, I am losing control. He is smiling. He has won.