A small ray of sun hits the corner of my eyes. It’s not a pleasant feeling. But it’s not half as horrible as the sudden pressure that builds up in my head a split second after that ray of sun moved over my eyes. I instinctively roll over to my side, covering my mouth, and swallow whatever the hell is trying to crawl out. Trying to balance myself, instead I roll over and fall to the ground…which is full of sand. Wait…sand? Where the hell am I?

Opening my eyes, I take in the bright blue sky, the sun smack in the middle of it, the palm tree that happens to be standing over the bench I just fell out of. For just a moment, I wonder if perhaps I’ve just stepped into some bizarre version of reality, and that perhaps if I blink again, I’ll go back to wherever it was I came from. I mean, come on, the beach? What in God’s sake have I-?

Oh. Wait. Now I remember. Shit. Now it’s all coming back to me.

It was just yesterday…or maybe the day before…at the moment, I don’t exactly have the best grip on time, let alone reality. But anyway, these are just small details. What was important, what really mattered…my girlfriend and I had a fight. Well, I don’t know if girlfriend fits her anymore. We’ve been living together for ten years, since we were eighteen in fact. I suppose we’re one of those almost-married couples without all the troublesome paperwork. Besides, we don’t need paperwork to tell each other that we’re two inseparable souls who deeply loved one another. And that was why this fight hurt most, asides the fact that we don’t need to argue to get our points across.

“What about that promise we made to each other that night?”

“Well, the hell with that promise! What’s it matter when the one woman I love and cherish throws it away by fucking my best friend?!”

“You know what?”

“What?”

“I wish we’d never met, that’s what!”

These ten years then…they didn’t matter a damn bit. The time I surprised her with a brand-new necklace. The time she took me to the beach at sunset, just to paint my silhouette, created by that burning sun. That night…in the middle of summer, of real summer…under those stars, away from the city…when I promised her that I would always, always be by her side…that even if we stopped loving each other…even if we had to drift apart because fate decides to be cruel…that she would always remain the one and the true in my heart.

And so, feeling worse than I’d ever felt in my life, I left our apartment. I didn’t bring any of my things…I did plan on coming back. I walked through the city as cars, people, and buses passed me by. It was 6pm, on a Friday…and of course, people were headed out to bars and parties and whatever shit that might’ve been going on that weekend. I contemplated what to do for a moment, and decided I’d take the train to the last stop. The ride didn’t take excessively long, and when I reached that last stop, I hopped off, and took a bus all the way towards the end of the city…to the five-hundred year old part of the city, by the ocean.

I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I just walked to my regular bar. I probably should’ve gone elsewhere. This is the same bar me and her liked to go…and this is probably one of the very few times I’ve ever gone in without her. Reaching into my wallet, I took out sixty bucks, laid it on the counter, and told the bartender to serve as many drinks as those sixty bucks could afford. The last thing I remember was the bartender peering over me, telling me that he wasn’t going to serve me any more for the night.

And now, here I am. Below a palm tree, lying on the sand, next to a bench, with the worst hangover I’ve ever had since prom night. All of a sudden, as it all comes back to me, I feel worse. Not because of the hangover, or because I just swallowed the worst-tasting vomit ever. No…it’s because I now just realized that it wasn’t her who broke her promise…it was me. I was the one who said I’d always be by her side, no matter how our feelings changed…and I blew it.

God, the hell with my hangover, I’ve gotta get back to our apartment!

Standing up as fast as I could without somehow regurgitating more vomit, I ran out over the beach, fixing my hair and shirt as best as I could along the way. Finally, I recognize where I am in this city…so all I have to do is just find the nearest bus stop. Scrambling, I make it out onto the main road, and being morning still, was already filled with cars. The bus I need to take to get the train stop happens to be just a bit ahead. I ran up to it, banged on the door so the driver would let me in. As it opens, I stumble into the bus, swearing slightly, and the driver shakes his head, muttering something about hung over party people. Good. A bit of good luck, this is good.

An hour later, as the bus finally crawled its way out of that horrible traffic jam, it managed to reach the train stop. I practically throw myself off and start sprinting all the way through the station, swiping my card along the way, and, just before the train doors close, throw myself in. Yes, some more luck, thank you God.

Finally, finally, I make it back to our apartment. I run up the stairs, run through the hallway, run up to the door, and I struggle to unlock it. I fling the door open, not even bother to closing it. I run through the mini-hallway, through the kitchenette, and finally, to our bedroom.

And there she is, sitting on the edge. It looks like she might’ve been there all night in that same position. There are tear stains all over her cheeks. Dear God, how stupid we men are.

She looks up. The look in her eyes is something I’ll never forget.

“Paul, I-“

“Don’t Mina.”

I don’t let her finish. I don’t want her to, I don’t need her to. It’s not her who needs to take all of the blame, no one can take all of the blame. The blame belongs to both of us, and as I grab her, sweeping her lips up into mine, I tell her, I’m sorry, it’s not all your fault, some of that fault is mine, I was being a stupid jerk.

I was being human. We both were being human, silly, emotion-driven humans.

And I realize…I love this woman more then I love life itself.

“Paul, why on earth would you want to make a promise like that with a girl like me? What in hell can I give you?”

“Well, what in hell can I give you? Nothing. That’s the best part. It’s here we start giving. It’s here we start learning. It’s here we love each other.”

And it’s now that we love each other all over again, with a clean slate. Yes, I am a lucky one. Not many can say they can get a clean slate.

Though perhaps next time I’ll try buying more tasteful alcohol. I’m never getting drunk of Bacardi again for as long as I live.