Can I Call You Her Name?

He walked into the bar tonight. Like he’s been doing the past several nights. Trying to drown his sorrows in loads of alcohol until the hallucinations become a reality, and he can finally escape into his dream world where she is still a part of his life.

As of right now, he hasn’t quite reached that dream-turned-into-reality state.

He scoped the bar, looking at the fellow drunks he would be sharing a building with tonight. He slumped his way to a bar stool and began his long journey of various alcoholic drinks to help him cope with the immense loss he was feeling towards his ex-girlfriend, Maggie.

“Gin tonight,” the bartender asked.

He didn’t care what he drank, so long as it got him plastered. It was the closest he could get to her. Maggie.

He drank one cup, then another, until he was nearly six drinks in. The intoxication began to arise, and a smile grew across his face. He murmured to himself while sitting in his chair. The people next to him smiled and nodded, although they knew the man was beyond okay.

His head drooped to his shoulders, and he had a hard time keeping his posture straight. He looked down at the wooden countertop as splashes of tears plopped on the table.

Everything reminded him of her. He remembered sitting with her at this exact bar, laughing at stupid jokes and people-watching. He remembered how she used to always make fun of him when he tripped or dropped something, and how she could go on and on about why he was truly a clumsy man. Those are the small moments you don’t appreciate until they’re gone, the man thought to himself.

He couldn’t understand why she had such a hold on him. They had broken up nearly two weeks ago, yet he was still mourning her loss. He can’t even remember the real reason they broke up, as facades kept him away from the real feelings he felt for her. He wanted her back. He missed her embrace. He didn’t think he was capable of missing someone’s touch. The feel of her skin becoming a ghost. The longing he had for her was immense. But he knew she would never love him again.

He lifted his head up from the countertop, trying to prevent his nose from running all over the table. His eyesight was hazy, and he had a hard time keeping his balance on the stool. Everything caught his attention, so he had trouble staying focused. His eyes followed every stranger that passed behind him, every time the bartender came over to ask someone if they wanted a drink, any time someone sat in the stools next to him and left.

His sense of time was gone. It could have been hours of him sitting in the bar, watching other people. The people watched him too. There were whispers, and almost annoyed stares as he continued to moan out loud and fidget with his body. They’ve seen him before. They know his situation. They’ve seen him mistake other girls for her. They heard his cries for her as he laid his head on the table. He didn’t care what they thought about him, though. He felt empty. He wondered if this would be the last time he sat at a bar ever. Not to get his life together. But to possibly end his life. Because a life without his first love, his only love, is not a life worth living.

He made up his mind in the couple of seconds that passed. There was a cliff of the beautiful city he could drive to. He could enjoy the view for the last time before plummeting to his death. Or perhaps, he could head over to the beach and let the waves overtake him.

He stumbled over his stool, causing quite a ruckus as he tried to stand upright.

“Excuse me.”

Time froze. The voice of the past struck him. There’s no possible way. He had been intoxicated several times before this. And several times before this, he had mistaken another mundane girl for her. But this was too close.

He looked up at the girl with the angelic voice. All he saw was her back profile, but that was enough to compel him to reach out to her shoulders. To stop her in her tracks. To have her turn around. And to see Maggie.

She smiled at him, a bit confused until realization sparked in her eyes.

“Alexander,” she said.

She threw her arms around his shoulders, having to get on her tippy toes from his height.

He couldn’t grasp the idea that she was in front of him, holding her again.

He never fully hugged her back, still believing that his mind was playing games with him.

“How are you,” her voice was silky and seductive.

She tucked her brown hair behind her ear and looked up at him, her eyes becoming doe.

“I-I’m okay,” he tried to downplay his sheer relief that she was truly here,“What’re you doing here?”

“I-uh,” she stammered.

“I missed you.”

“Really?”

“Of course I have,” his voice was somber, he had to choke back his tears.

She looked down and played with the rings on her fingers. Her fingers were slender and long, her nails were painted a red color.

“Can we talk, and hang out for a bit,” he asked, trying to keep her around for as long as he could before she slipped through his fingers again.

Perhaps he was still hallucinating. Maybe she was just another Maggie look-a-like. But he needed this. He needed to be around Maggie and he did not care that he had to live in delusion to be with her.

They sat down on their stools together; he never took his eyes off of her.

“How have you been?” his voice was gentle; he didn’t want to scare her away.

“I’ve been okay. It’s been hard coping with everything, but I’m taking it one day at a time.”

She smiled and bit her lip. She looked ecstatic to be in his presence.

“So you’ve been unhappy too,” he asked.

“Of course, I have. I think about her every day.”

The alcohol slurred the words coming from her mouth to his ear. He chose to ignore the things he didn’t quite understand.

“Why are you here, truly?”

“I don’t know. I-I wanted to see you. To check up on you.”

She was thinking about me. She’s been thinking about me, he thought to himself.

“How did you know I’d be here?”

“I know you, Alex.”

He sighed as his name purred out of her lips. He loved the way she said his name. It sent a cold shiver up his spine. The feeling felt so familiar.

“This is your favorite bar,” she smiled.

She was right. This was the hangout spot for him. Maybe that’s why the people here ignored his cries for help, because they’ve seen it before, and they’ll see it again.

She knows me so well, he thought.

“Can I kiss you?”

Her eyes shone in surprise as she tried to suppress her smile. He couldn’t contain himself. He missed her touch and yearned to put his lips onto hers. She didn’t say anything but her eyes answered “Yes.” He leaned towards her rosy lips, as she closed her eyes, not advancing towards him, but not pulling away either.

It’s as though they kiss for the first time. He imagines them standing by a magnificent cliff with a magnificent view, fireworks blasting in the black night sky. Bliss. Like the night they first met.

He struggled to pull away, but when he did, he stared at her. He always loved her face. He can’t remember there being a hint of green in her eyes. Or her birthmarks tracing her nose. But her eyes are still intoxicating, and her smile is beautiful.

He slipped his hand through her hair and let it dance between his fingers.

“I love you, Maggie.”

Her doe eyes captured his heart, and she licked her lips as she broke eye contact with him.

“I love you too Alex, but… I’m not Maggie.”

His gaze paused in her eyes. His hand slowly released her hair. It can’t be happening again, he began to panic. He refused to believe. The alcohol’s getting to me. This is Maggie, it has to be. She’s the closest thing I have to Maggie.

“Maggie’s my sister, remember?”

Sister, he questioned, Is this not Maggie?

“I wanted to check up on you, for her,” she whispered.

He looked at her intently. The bridge of her nose was straight. Wasn’t Maggie’s nose crooked? He shook his head and attempted to brush the thought aside. He had a hard time grasping reality.

“It’s me. Marilyn. Do you not recognize me?”

The situation began to sober him up a bit. Maggie’s sister was supposed to have long black hair. The girl in front of me has short brown hair. Like Maggie, he began to speculate.

He looked down at her clothes. She was wearing a bomber jacket similar to Maggie’s, with blue jeans and navy boots. Like Maggie.

He never noticed how similar she looked to Maggie until now, almost like they could have been twins.

Alex didn’t know much about Maggie’s sister because she didn’t like to talk about her. She truly believed that her sister was in a secret competition with her, although Alex never took the allegations seriously. He had only met Marilyn a couple of times before. Conversation between them was always brief and a bit awkward. She never had much to say to him; she was always tongue-tied. But this conversation felt natural, there was no tension between them now.

Maggie’s sister was supposed to be in the car with Maggie.

He looked towards the rings on her fingers and noticed a brace he hadn’t seen earlier.

Did she manage to survive the crash with only a crack of the wrist?

He had a hard time admitting it. That Maggie would never love him again because she was no longer here to love him again. And the last time they interacted, he didn’t have a chance to tell her how much she meant to him. How he didn’t want to fight with her. How he did want to marry her. That he was scared to commit to her at first, but now he was ready. How he was sorry he wasn’t ready sooner. But I’m ready now. But she’s not here to hear his true feelings for her. And she never will.

Is this the same sister? How is she here but Maggie is, his thoughts trailing off.

Two weeks ago, police reported to the scene of a car crash. They still aren’t entirely sure what compelled Maggie to swerve her car into the tunnel; she passed a couple of days later in the hospital. Maggie was supposed to be driving Marilyn back home from a late-night appointment.

***

Marilyn, oh, Marilyn. Who envied her older sister for being more intelligent than her, and prettier than her. The older sister who could do no wrong; who never disappointed their parents. The sister who did not know how well she had it with her boyfriend. Who left him out of spite, all because he hadn’t asked to marry her yet. She wasn’t willing to give him another chance, to fight another fight of love.

When Maggie told Marilyn about her breakup with Alex, Marilyn kept from shining a smile. She had always loved Alex, but Alex had eyes for Maggie first, and Marilyn could never compete. There came a time where Marilyn became defeated in her quest for love, in her quest for Alex. What kind of sister takes a boyfriend away from her own blood?

The night of the fatal crash, Marilyn had begged her sister to pick her up from her hair appointment. When Maggie arrived, Marilyn concealed her new look with a hat.

As Marilyn got in the car, Maggie stared her down.

“Since, when do you ever wear hats,” Maggie remarked.

“That’s none of your business,” Marilyn replied.

Maggie rolled her eyes and started to drive back home. Marilyn could sense that her older sister was judging her.

“Show me your hair,” Maggie said, never taking her eyes off the road.

“No,” Marilyn replied, forcing her hat on more.

“Show. Me.”

“Leave me alone,” Marilyn cried.

Marilyn knew that Maggie was skeptical, but she didn’t care. Marilyn had decided to “borrow” some clothes from her. Clothes she thought would get Alex’s attention. But Maggie never confronted Marilyn for sneaking into her room after she got caught. Marilyn even started doing her makeup like Maggie, thinking it could morph her face into her older sister’s. Maggie never confronted her about it either, yet she noticed the subtle changes. Marilyn ignored her though, setting her eyes on the prize. But, things were becoming tense between them. And Marilyn could no longer ignore it.

She looked at her sister and watched as Maggie’s hand swiped the baseball hat off her head. Underneath the hat, Marilyn’s long black hair was gone and replaced with short brown hair. Like Maggie’s.

“What the hell,” Maggie exclaimed.

“Give it back!” Marilyn screamed.

She clawed at Maggie as she tried to reach for her hat. Maggie tried hard to keep the car steady with one hand while holding the hat in the other hand, with Marilyn tugging and pulling at her.

“Why can’t you be yourself?!”

A moment of rage roared inside of Marilyn. Years behind her shadow and years of hearing her scrutiny. It began to flow into one single emotion for Marilyn. Rage.

“Because Alex doesn’t like me,” she berated, continuing to reach for the hat.

“What? Is this seriously about Alex?!”

The car jerked left to right as Maggie tried to navigate the car through a dark narrow tunnel. Marilyn watched as her older sister’s brown skin turned red as she clawed at it.

“I always come in last,” she lost all emotion in her voice.

Marilyn continued clawing, more rapidly. Maggie lost control of the wheel underneath her fingerprints as the car continued to swerve.

“Mary, stop, you’re gonna get us killed!”

There was no Marilyn behind those eyes as she started slapping her sister’s face, losing control, but gaining rage. Maggie’s head banged against the window as she shrieked in agony. The car lost control as Maggie lost control of herself. They slammed into the tunnel in the wall, as Marilyn lost consciousness- but gained a new identity.

***

Maggie was the last person Marilyn saw. Marilyn was in the car.

He wanted to question her, he was so confused. He didn’t understand how the accident was fatal for Maggie but minor for Marilyn. Why is she alive right now, but-

“Maggie, er- Marilyn-”

She looked like Maggie. She talked like Maggie.

“Alex, you can call me anything you want.”