An Old Sorry Lover

“No! Jezza! Come back! Please don’t leave me!” Kiba cried and woke with a start from his nightmare. Tiny droplets of sweat were progressing down the sides of his face. He was breathing very heavily and staring wildly around his worn-down apartment.

“That dream, I had it again!” Kiba mumbled to himself. He began to calm down now that he realized she wasn’t there, and began hitting himself in the forehead. This dream, this nightmare, he needed to knock it out of his brain.

Kiba slowly slipped out from under the moth eaten covers and sleepily stumbled over to the sink in the minuscule kitchen to pour himself a glass of water. The icy, cold liquid gliding down his throat soothed him. As he finished his glass, he took the back of his hand and wiped his mouth dry. As he did this, he caught a glimpse out of the small window that sat above the rust-incrusted sink. Kiba was dazzled by the way the moon illuminated the dark ally outside. He stood there for a long while, marveling at the great orb that shown brightly above him, but the ring of the telephone made him tear his eyes away from the sight.

“Hello?” Kiba answered the phone, “Hi Jason.” Jason lived in the apartment next to Kiba. Kiba and he were friends.

“Hay, Kiba, I’m sorry for calling so late, it’s just; I heard a yell come from your apartment. I wanted to make sure you were ok. You know how our neighborhood can be sometimes.” Kiba’s mind then went back to his nightmare. He zoned out for a while, his mind replaying that damn nightmare over again. He didn’t answer Jason at first, but gradually began faintly hearing him still talking on the other end. “Hey, Kiba? Kiba! Are you there? Hello? Are you Ok?”

“What? Umm…yes fine. I’m here.” Kiba sighed coming out of his trance, “It’s just that this stupid dream I keep having.”

“A Dream?” Jason asked, exasperated. Sounding like he was very upset for being awoken by such a trivial thing.

“It’s more of a nightmare really. About … her.”

“Who’s ‘her’?” Jason asked again, exhaustion weighing on his every word.

“My Jezza Rose.” Kiba closed his eyes and pictured her beautiful, flawless face in his mind. “You see, umm--I used to be with her, but that was a long time ago. I did something to her, that I didn’t mean to do.”

Kiba could hear Jason yawning on the other end of the phone, Jason wasn’t much of a night owl. “What did you do?” He asked in mid yawn.

“Well, what I did?” Kiba didn’t really want to tell Jason, but he had to talk to someone about it. Besides, Jason was probably so tiered he wouldn’t even remember this chat come morning. “Well, I used to be quite a rebel growing up. Ya know? I was the bad-ass punk who ran away from home at sixteen. But she came with me - my Jezza Rose. She was always with me. I don’t know why, but she loved me.”

“Anyway, I ran away to Vegas with her on the back of my Harley. I thought I was such a big-shot. Thought I could take on the baddest of the bad in poker. I was wrong. One game I couldn’t pay up. These guys were pretty ruthless and wanted only their money. When I couldn’t pay they decided to punish me by taking away the most valuable thing in my life, Jezza.”

He waited for Jason’s reaction, but all he got were snores. Kiba put the phone back on the receiver and stood there for a while, thinking. He was smirking to himself, “That’s Jason for you” He mumbled as he walked back to his bed with the moth eaten covers and the flat pillows.

As Kiba lay there that night, he thought of nothing but her. The way she smiled, the smell of her perfume, the way he felt when he had looked into her deep, blue eyes. How she was always there for him even when he wasn’t for her.

“I’m sorry.” He said, a tear was rolling down his cheek, “I’m so, so sorry. My-my Jezza Rose.”