Blue Jeans by Lesley Whyte

You should be here by now. You said you would be. You said you'd come on Monday, and now it's after midnight. I've stayed up, waiting, pacing the room. I must look like a crazy person. If anyone was peeking in the curtains, they'd wonder what was wrong with me. You should be here by now. You said you would be. You said you'd come on Monday. You should be here. Everything will be better once you're here. You're coming. I know you are. You said you'd come on Monday. If you don't come soon, it'll be too late. You need to be here soon. You're always a little late, I should have predicted that. It was stupid of me. I won't forget it again. I'll be better.

You should be here by now.

I drift in and out. I'm having trouble focusing. I can barely keep my eyes open. The room is hazy, shifting in front of me. Shifting underneath me. I tumble from the sofa and land face-first in the carpet. I can't breathe. I turn my head, scraping my nose across the carpet just so I can keep dragging in shallow breaths. Is that the door? I think I hear the door. You're here! You're finally here! You're late but you're here now and that's all that matters!

You call my name. It's the most beautiful sound I've ever heard. You come into the room. The last thing I see before my eyes shut are the scuffed hems of your blue jeans. I hate those damn jeans. You could have worn something nicer than that. You could have been on time. But then you wouldn't be you. And you're perfect. I try to tell you I love you, but I just can't manage it. I should have known you'd be late, I should have planned for that and waited a little longer to take the pills. Still, you're here now, and that's all that matters.