Never Gonna Give You Up
Never gonna give you up
Never gonna let you down
“Hey, Faye. Just wondering where you are. Call me when you get this?” Click.
“Faye. This isn’t funny any more, just come home. Please.” Click.
“Please, Faye. Whatever I did wrong, I’m sorry. Just come home, and we’ll talk.” Click.
“I love you so much, why are you doing this to me?” Click.
The last message is just sobbing.
“Are you sure you have to go, Faye? We never get a girls’ night out any more.”
“Yeah, Bess is probably wondering where I’m off to. You know how she is.”
Sierra laughs. “I remember. Say hi for me, will you?”
“Sure.”
A quiet click in the lock is the only thing that announces Faye’s arrival. The door opens without the slightest creak, and the eerie silence that greets her used to send shivers down her back.
Now she knows what to expect.
Bess is on the floor, passed out from booze and exhaustion. In her hands, she clutches her cell phone and an empty bottle of scotch. Dried tear tracks, blackened with make-up, go from her closed eyes to her hairline.
There isn’t any surprise in Faye’s light eyes, only disappointment and disgust. The pathetic figure of her lover isn’t covered by anything but a thin sheet. Faye throws one of the thicker quilts over her, unable to take the shameful sight any longer.
Bottles of all shapes and colours are scattered around, disgraceful proof of Bess’ doings while Faye was away. She gathers them quietly, mind mostly detached, only one thought running through her head: she shouldn’t be so used to this.
Bess wakes to a beeper going off in the kitchen. She groans and shifts, her head pounding like mad. Light streams in from a window, hitting her in the face in her new position. Cursing the world and its cruelty towards people with hangovers, she stumbles her way out of bed and into the kitchen.
As her dark eyes meet Faye’s bright ones, she lights up. “Hi,” she says, trying to contain her simple happiness. Faye doesn’t answer, only hands her a glass of water. Bess drinks, shooting her a look of gratitude.
“We’ve got to talk,” Faye says finally, after the silence has sunken from awkward to uncomfortable.
Bess’ smile becomes stale, and shatters at the edges. “Sure, baby,” she says quietly. “About what?”
“Don’t play ignorant with me,” Faye snaps, and puts down a plate of grease with a side of bacon and eggs. “Eat your goddamn breakfast. I’ll be in the living room.”
Bess stares after her as she leaves, eyes shining and mouth turned down.
She eats in mournful silence.
Faye sits on their tidied couch, eyes open but unseeing. Bess sits down across her, moves wary and slow.
Without preamble, Faye starts talking. “I want you to stop this.” Her eyes inch towards Bess’, answering before the question is even out of her mouth; “This drinking.”
“Of course,” Bess says fervently, eager to please. “I ju—”
“If you don’t, you know, I’m going to leave.”
Stunned silence from the dark-eyed woman.
“I checked my phone before you woke up. Fifteen messages, Bess. Fifteen.”
“I was just worried,” Bess defends herself, “I didn’t mean to—”
“It doesn’t matter. You knew I was going out with Sierra and Taylor, and yet I come home to this? It’s fucking pathetic, and you have to stop it now.“
“I know, I know, I’m sorry—”
“It’s not enough. Promise me.”
“I love you, of course I—”
“Promise me.”
“I promise,” she says quickly. “I promise, I promise so hard all other promises fade in comparison.” She sees how the corners of Faye’s mouth stay downturned, how the creases between her brows doesn’t fade. “Hey. I love you, okay? It’s going to be fine.”
Faye nods, and her posture breaks as she leans in for a hug.
Weeks pass, and they’re happy. Bess, frightened by the threat of her lover leaving, bottles up her fears and insecurities to the best of her ability.
Then she runs out of bottles.
Faye is on a trip to Montana, in a last-minute effort to save her waning friendship with Taylor. Bess tries not to worry – she really does. But when three days stretch to five, and five becomes seven.. well, she can’t help but jump to conclusions.
The fact that Taylor is on the rebound doesn’t help either.
A quiet click in the door isn’t the only thing that announces Faye’s arrival, this time. Wheels from her bags squeal lightly on linoleum floors, and she laughs as she relives chosen moments from the past week.
She turns on the lights, and abruptly drops her handbag to the floor.
“Bess, what the hell are you doing?”
Bess – clearly far gone, by the looks of things – hiccups. “So you’re finally home, eh?” she slurs, waving an almost empty beer bottle at the light-eyed woman. “I was startin’ to wonder if you were plannin’ on coming home at all.”
Faye’s lips become a tight line. “Bess, you promised you’d stop this.”
“Yeah, well, I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one not upholding my promises.”
“What the— wait, no. I’m not going to do this. Not now.”
Bess looks hurt, but not surprised. She covers the expression up with a drunken scowl, throwing the beer bottle at Faye and missing spectacularly. “Fuck you!”
Faye picks up her bag from the floor, gripping the others once again with a firm hand. “This is sad, Bess.” She looks at Bess, how her brown eyes shine with desperation and disappointment. “This is really fucking sad.”
The door doesn’t slam after her, it closes slowly and quietly – but a slam still echoes in Bess’ mind.
She screams, the sound like a wounded animal.
“Hi, it’s me. I’ll be coming to pick up my stuff tomorrow. Don’t be home. Stop calling me.” Click.
Never gonna run around and
desert you
