Epilogue chapter from the Bleeding Boyfriend vol. 1 comic book story.by Jay Katana
Just yesterday, her stuff was here. She was here. All she left was a few words lipsticked on my mirror: “I’m leaving… I believe in you.” Just like that. It would have been better if she’d written just the first part of the message. It seems that people we love always know the right words to kill us completely when they leave. How to shatter our last bit of dignity and life force into a million pieces that are impossible to put together again.
Linda was not the first girl I loved. And she’s not the first girl who left me. I’ve been here before.
Then why the fuck it hurts so much?
I know in advance what I’ll do from now on, step by step. I’m sure it will be possible to bring her back as I get more successful. But why does it still fucking hurt? Even I know that everything will be okay, and that this is more of her defeat than mine. Nobody is breaking up with anyone. It’s just that somebody has to stay while the other one moves forward. I’m staying.
And looking at our bed.
In the last few days, we didn’t get along, but a week ago we had some great stuff going on in that bed. The memory of it, the details of how great it was, bleeds my heart. Suddenly it’s impossible to imagine my life without her skin, her hair, her body. Suddenly she became the one and only. It’s just because she’s moving on without me. That’s why it hurts.
I will never sleep in that bed.
After drinking, smoking and not sleeping for days, my playing sucks. But guitar is the only thing that brings me peace. I can exhale everything that hurts inside, and I know that the best riffs and songs are about to be born. My lovely guitar! You’re with me, no matter what. No matter how much I suck right now.
Chords and words come naturally. The melody is simple, but perfect. The lyrics are to the point. The hook catches my inspiration. I picture the result, and work on details. I don’t think at all. My heart hurts, but my head is clear. Everything comes so naturally. Nothing is dragged out. It’s like some force is moving my fingers and opening my mouth while my tears fall on the strings.
“I believe in you.” How the fuck could she say that, then leave me for someone else?
The song is ready. As usual, it seems to be a “#1” hit! But it’s still in my imagination. Others may not agree with me.
But there’s a way to test it.
I get dressed, run to the downtown square with my guitar. First chord. I start singing. I’m drunk enough to not give a fuck about the people walking around. My heart still hurts enough for me to sing it loud.
By the second verse, I’m surrounded by people. Nobody is nodding or applauding; they just look at me carefully. The song IS “#1”! While playing the choruses, I feel the waves of energy running through their bodies. By the last chord, everybody is connected and mesmerized.
I open my eyes. The song is over. Everybody starts walking away like nothing happened. Silence.
But one girl keeps standing and looking at me. She seems to be too hot, too glamorous for a drunk, broke musician on the street. She has perfect style. In her early 30s, maybe. A young businesswoman with a lot of pride and confidence in her eyes.
She doesn’t say a word. Just keeps looking.
In a couple of hours, we were fucking in my and Linda’s bed.
All night long. I was drunk and dirty and did everything I wanted. She was
perfect. She felt it. Smart and passionate. She didn’t ask or talk.
Suddenly, when she left, my heart was released. I felt no pain at all. I didn’t think about Linda.
Suddenly, everything became clear.
I threw my favorite picture of Linda in the toilet, right under the mirror with the words “I believe in you”.
I called my bandmates. Now we had some real things to handle.