Page 147 of Trying Sophie

In these dark, drunken moments, I thought about Sophie, about how things could have been between us if only she’d believed me. I understood why she hadn’t, which did nothing to lessen my anguish. More than once I’d started to respond to Sophie’s text about Aoife’s visit— tell her I’d been talking out my ass, beg her to give me another chance—only to give up and throw my phone across the room.

The other night had been a blur, but one thing had stood out crystal clear in the light of day: I wasn’t good enough for her. The woman at the bar couldn’t hold a candle to Sophie but I’d been tempted to fuck her anyway. I hated that I’d accidentally gotten violent with her, but what had followed had been a blessing in disguise. Because temptation was one thing; acting on that temptation was an entirely other thing. And so far I had a clean record. I hadn’t cheated on Sophie—ever—and I could go to my grave knowing it. I just wished I could make her see it too.

Grabbing an unopened bottle of whiskey, I popped the cork and fell into bed with my laptop. I didn’t even bother to bring a glass this time. An hour later and half a bottle in, too drunk to worry about grammar or punctuation, I poured my heart out in an email.

Sophie,

I’m sorry. For everything. But I need you to be sorry too. I never cheated on you and I don’t know how to get past the fact that you didn’t believe me.

I don’t know how it happened, but somewhere along the way I fell for you. Hard. All my thoughts and emotions were overwhelming and they made my head spin and before I knew it, I was dizzy and couldn’t see straight where you were concerned. So when I said all those things about wishing I never knew you, I didn’t mean them. I was just reacting to not being in control. I just wanted some control again.

I didn’t know how to handle your rejection. I didn’t know how to handle how you made me feel. I’m still not sure I do, but I know I can’t run away from them—away from you—and I don’t want to.

I want to be with you and I want *you* to want to be with me.

I know the reason you believed Maggie’s lies was because they weren’t too far off your biggest fears about me. Even as I fell for you, I always knew you held yourself back. I wanted you to trust me, and I thought maybe I was making headway, but I guess I hadn’t.

The thing is, while the old me would probably have fucked Maggie while we were together, the new me wouldn’t have. At least I hope not. And that’s the scary thing for you, isn’t it? I get that now. I want to be the type of man you deserve but I don’t know if I’m capable. I didn’t cheat on you with Maggie, and I’d like to say I’d never cheat on you with anyone, but the problem is you know I can’t make a promise like that. BECAUSE I JUST DON’T KNOW.

I don’t know anything, really, except that I feel like half a person without you.

Despite everything I just said, I’m begging you not to throw away what we have. What we had. I know you’re scared, but I’m scared too.

I’m sitting here in bed, a bottle of whiskey beside me, and all I can think is it would be so much better if it were you. You don’t even have to be here with me. I just want to hear your voice before I fall asleep. That’ll make everything better. Maybe then I can sleep. I forget what sleep is like.

Aoife was right. I’m a mess. I’m lost without you.

I read the message. Then read it again. I probably read it ten more times, in fact. And then, I closed out of my email, leaving all my thoughts unsaid.

* * *

I couldn’t be sure, but there was probably a herd of elephants tromping all over my house. Whatever it was, the pounding in my skull was going to tear me apart.

“Wake up big brother,” a sing-song voice trilled next to my ear.

Pushing the annoying sprite away, I clenched my pillow and shoved it down over my head only to be met with an assault at my feet. The covers flew off the bed and a large, hulking brute hefted me up and into a standing position.

“Fuuuuuuuck,” I roared when my skull threatened to cleave in two as they marched me into the bathroom.

“I got it from here,” Aidan told Aoife as he closed the door and shoved me under the spray of scalding hot water.

After a few seconds, I felt my stomach lurch and then I puked all over my shower. When my body was empty, I leaned my forehead against the tiled wall and let the water wash my bile and shame away. A few seconds later, the glass door slid open. I cracked an eyelid and watched while Aidan grabbed the nozzle to hose down the other side of the stall.

“Thanks man,” I croaked.

“Don’t thank me yet,” he answered. “Aoife’s still out there and she’s in a mood.

I groaned. Dealing with my sister when she wasn’t in a mood was trying enough. But having the placate her when she was, while also suffering through an epic hangover? Yeah, I could think of better ways to spend my afternoon.

“Why’d you let her in?”

“Listen man. It was either her or your mom. I chose the lesser of two evils for your intervention.”

I could see his point. Wait, what? “My intervention?”

“Dude, you’re a fucking mess.”

“I’m fine,” I argued and he scoffed.

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