The house is dark. I can’t see where the door meets the porch, especially from the street where I step into the cold air from my car. I’m familiar with this lonely walk as if it’s become routine, although it wasn’t always this way.
I’m not sure you’ll even be waiting for my arrival or sober enough to acknowledge it, but by now it doesn’t affect me. I’ve grown immune to you, and I’m not sure if it’s that’s as healthy as it once sounded. Because “once” is not “now,” and “now” clashes with “once” in manner I never imagined. I didn’t expect a twist in dynamics or a fault in your smile. Honestly, I couldn’t dare to look away from you until recently.
But things change.
In the light of the half-moon through the bare trees, I stumble among the night I first met you. Curious glances and laughs only an innocent stranger could own haunt me. I am mocked by my own stupidity.
I was always warned by cliché: don’t judge a book by its cover. Often, we judge more harshly than we intend; but this time, I judged too lightly. Maybe it was desire. Maybe it was blind excitement. I was guided by misleading signs that I thought I could resolve with you. Why must I always seek to fix things?
The night I met you was warm. The leaves were bright. The moon was full. Tonight the empty branches are frozen and the moon barely exists.
I call you. “I’m outside,” I say calmly and wait. Just like I always do. I wait.
I watch as a dim light flickers on in the hallway and see your shadow stagger toward me. The front porch is vacant and pitch black, and I wonder why it is always left this way. Your family is the kind to decorate at Christmas, to sip hot chocolate on chilly, Jersey nights. But they’re asleep now.
You’re the only one awake, and I’ve come to see you.
I nearly missed your exit, was almost run off the road, to see you. I brushed away my friend’s concern, lied to my own father, to sit in the silence and be tormented by you.
You let me in your house with a kiss on the cheek, as much of a slow start as I had wished for all along. But what I wish never comes true. “Hey,” I say with a smile, one that could hide a million memories to you but not a single tear to anyone who knows me.
You take my hand and lead me to the same spot, and I almost miss what once occurred there. Although it still occurs to this day, it’ll never hold the same meaning. “How was your drive?” you ask so simply, as if you hadn’t expected me to travel three hours to you on my own, down unfamiliar roads at 2am.
“It was fine.”
You don’t waste a second—not with me, not with anyone in that old town you talk so highly of. I often ask myself why I still come here when I know I’m not the only one who’s felt this way. You take my head in your hands gently and nearly fool me to believe you aren’t plastered, until I taste your breath and am drunk on you once again.
I don’t know if it’s you I’m in love with, perhaps it’s Jack Daniels. Perhaps it’s the warm idea of Tennessee.
“It doesn’t feel right.” It hasn’t in awhile, but I never bothered telling you until this moment. I figured you’d get tired of me eventually.
You hover over me but don’t move. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, something is wrong.”
I swear by the look in your eyes you want to cry. But you take another swig. I’ve never seen emotion escape from you in all these months. Liquid courage is strong. “What’s wrong?” I can smell Jack again as he speaks to me; he’s the only one who ever speaks to me.
Jack is not as easy to talk to, not as soft and understanding. But I think I might love him. Yet I don’t know what to say to him, I freeze under his icy stare. “I’m just not feeling well,” which is not a lie. It’s nearly time for my mother to get up for work and I still haven’t closed my eyes other than to kiss Jack.
If only I could kiss you, tonight.
“I know something that’ll help you,” and he offers himself. I wonder where you are in this moment because I know I could use you more than Jack. I know that if you could just hold me like that one night you were actually existent, when Jack wasn’t influencing you, I would feel better. “Take a couple of sips, you’ll be alright.” So I do, and I find comfort in Tennessee once again, although I’ve never actually visited.
And then I’m tangled up in Jack like I used to be with you, when we’d sip coffee at my school the first months we met, and I still feel the rush. But Jack is different, not as sweet to the taste but just as thrilling.
I wonder what your mom would think if she knew about Jack, about your visits to Tennessee every weekend with your old friends who I’ve yet to meet. I wonder what your step-dad would say if he met me now and saw how different I am, but he’s always asleep at the hours I come by. Jack prefers the night, and I prefer you. But I take what I can get.
“Have some more, you look a little flushed.” I refrain from telling you that Jack is the reason for my complexion, that I shouldn’t even be here when you’re under his influence. Rather, I say I should get going before the sun brings your family to my attention, and I’m no longer good for you. “One more sip?”
I can’t refuse Jack like I couldn’t refuse you. So I kiss him goodnight like I used to kiss you, with a shiver through my bones.
But you don’t walk me to the door like you used to. Or make sure I’m home.
The walk to my car isn’t as cold when I think Tennessee rather than Jersey. I settle in for the long drive and turn the country station on to fit the scenery.

Warmed my body to the core just like a blanket.

I sing along.
It’s 5 o’clock now, and I can see the clouds opening their eyes to the idea of color. They’re in for a new adventure, a fresh start. If only every night was a clean slate, ending at daylight. I am able to let go of the sun, accepting the moon for what it’s worth.
Focusing my attention back to the road, I continue to sing.

Tasted so sweet then you took my breath away.

There are some cars on the road but not many. I curse the others as obstacles. I want to be alone, but Jack is haunting me with the rise of the morning. He’s taking control of my thoughts, of my actions, of the wheel.
You made me fall in love with Jack, just like you made me fall in love with you. Only, the process wasn’t as pretty, and now neither are you. But I will always remember the old you, before Jack existed in our relationship.

Hit me so hard like a rock through a window…

I’m even colder than before. Tennessee is wearing off, feeling as far away as the actual place. I’m shivering. I don’t know where I am anymore, but I wish to know where you are. Jack has done this to me, plagued me with regret. With sorrow. With depression.
Consequence.
I can’t see anything, but I can feel everything now. I feel my body jolt forward. I feel the pain cut into my skull like shattered pieces of a glass bottle.
I don’t know where I am. It looks like night to me, but I thought it was morning. I don’t remember. I can’t remember. Everything is dark, and I feel trapped.
Am I paralyzed? I can’t move. I can’t move or see, but I can feel. And I don’t wanna feel because I’m in so much pain. I just want to go home. I want to go back to where we’d sit by the fire and watch old movies. I want to taste your smiling lips again, before you stopped loving me.
But I’m here, wedged into what feels like my steering wheel.

I knew I was in trouble from the moment I met you.

Is Jack holding you hostage from me?
Are you here? I can’t tell, I just hear the sound of sirens screeching in my ears. My head is throbbing, and I know enough that I’m not in good condition.
Someone found me. I can feel their presence, though I can’t see them. Is it you?
It isn’t. It must be the police or someone who wants to help me because I can hear their concerned voices as they try to move me from wherever it is that I’m still stuck in.
I’m gonna be in so much trouble; I’m gonna let down so many people. Why did I ever trust Jack?
Maybe because you did, and I thought for sure I could trust you.

Shoulda just called it like I saw it.

My friends were right to be concerned. My father caught me in my lie and now holds me in his arms. My mother was on her way to work, but now she’s by my side.
I don’t think I can open my eyes. I’d love for Jack to know what he’s done this time. For you to understand that he ruined everything.
Jack is not a good influence. I had a taste of that lifestyle—of Jack. Now look where I am.
In the hospital? I’m sure; I just don’t remember getting here.

Shoulda just called for help and ran like hell that day.

Everyone is worried. I would be too if I could feel. But I can’t anymore.
Can you explain to me what happened? Because my memory is faded and the last image I have is of that bottle tilted to your lips.
I don’t know what’s happening outside of my mind. I barely made out the words: “under the influence.” Under who’s influence? Jack’s? He’s the only influence I’ve had since before you visited Tennessee.

The burn and the sting and the high and the heat.

I remember how strong and independent I used to be. My old self never would have allowed this to happen, never would have allowed a boy to ruin my life. I wish I never got involved with you—or Jack. I don't know who to blame.
Myself. That's who. I let this happen to myself, I let down the people who truly matter to me.
I want to hear my friends laughing like I used to. I want to listen to my parents tell me I’ll be okay no matter what like I used to.
Now I’m sure my friends aren't laughing, and I’m not sure I’ll be okay.

And the left me wanting more feeling when he kissed me.

I wish I could kiss you again. But I’m afraid, even if you do show, I won’t know it. I won’t feel you here because I feel nothing. I won’t hear your voice because I hear nothing now. I won’t tell you these thoughts because I can’t say anything. I can’t speak. I’m trapped.
Maybe I’m the one held hostage by Jack.

I shoulda just called him whiskey.

Jack. Jack Daniels. I never want to feel that warmth, his touch, again. I can’t feel anyway.
I can’t feel anything.
I never want to see his face again. I can’t see anyway.
I can’t see anything.
I'm lifeless, but I've been this way for a long time now. Way before tonight. Or today. I have no perception of time. I just know I haven't felt alive in months.

Now the numb set in.

Are you here? I need you here, like when I needed you the night you were home and I was at school and I called you and you talked to me and you helped me and you stayed up all night and you listened and you told me…you loved me.
But I can’t call you now and I can’t talk to you. You can’t help me because you aren’t here. You never listen anymore and you never tell me you love me, because you don’t.

He’s gone like the wind.

You were innocent. I know that. Jack never was. I know that, too. I always did.
I knew it from the moment you got me hooked on him, from the sting I felt in my throat to the wreck he caused.
If I had just said no and walked away, I wouldn't be here right now. Motionless. Unable to speak. Unable to tell my family how much I love them. My friends, how much I appreciate them. How sorry I am.
I did this to myself. I could have turned away from Jack, could've turned away from you.
If you really loved me, you wouldn't have done this to me.
If I really loved myself, I wouldn't have done this to myself. To my family. To my friends.
But now, held captive in my own mind, I realize just how dangerous Jack is.

And I can barely feel the pain.