3am phone call... pt.1

It’s 3:39am, my phone rings.
It’s you, I pick it up.

“Hello?”

“Hi, whacca doing?”

“Sleeping, it’s 3 in the morning.”

“Oh really? I didn’t realize, I’m just calling…”

I can tell that you’ve been drinking.
I really don’t think I want to hear what you have to say.
We’ve been through this before.
It ends the same every time.
I stop you before you can finish the sentence.
“look…” I say gently,

“It’s late, I’m tired, and you’re drunk. Call back tomorrow and we can talk then.”

“But this is important” You tell me this every time.
Every time, I let it rope me into hearing you say that you’re sorry, that things ended badly.
That if it weren’t for what happened, we’d still be together.
We’ve had this conversation many times, always in this situation.
You drunk, middle of the night, me sleeping.
Alcohol has the affinity to make you do things you normally wouldn’t do.
Time in and time out, you end up sad and crying, I’m angry and frustrated.
You’ll call again in the morning and apologize, it was the alcohol talking, and you didn’t mean any of it, if you remember any of it at all.
I’m ready to avoid the situation all together.

“I don’t want to hear it. I know what you’re going to say.”

“It’s different this time, I swear.”

I let out a sigh, sit up in bed and prepare myself to hear it once again.
I assume that I know exactly what you’re going to say…