Depression Is My Mistress

Looking up from my plate I glance across the table.
A beautiful women sits across from me.  Soft shoulder length raven hair, fair skin, nails painted black.  Her black one piece dress came down and across her chest, her breasts pressed together.  I found her cleavage stunning.
I sigh cutting into my food and look back down at the table.  She hears me as her head rises slowly, as if royalty, offended.  I take a moment, take a breath, set down the silverware on the white napkin against the maroon cloth, and look to meet her stare.
Her eyes are a sharp gray with a puzzling ring of sky blue around the iris.  I cannot but become trapped in her eyes.  To me they are perfect.
Her dark red lipsticked lips form into that signiture frown as our eyes connect.  My eyes look tired as her's shine with a vendetta.
"Something to say?"
I act stupid, "Huh?"
"Do you...have something...to say?"  Voice stern and ready for a fight.
She always wins and I'm just too tired to care.  "No, I do not."
"Why the forceful sigh?"  Her eyes make me want to say that I'm sorry but I'm not.
"I'm tired."  I take a drink my glass.  The water rolling over itself down the inside.
"Why's that?"  Taking a bite of her salmon, pulling it off the fork, not taking her eyes off of me.
Setting the glass down upon the napkin, "You know why."
"Refresh my memory."  She could be so coy it was sickening.
"We fought.  We fought all of last night."  Saying it as dryly as I could.
"And what about this morning?"
"We made up."  I was going to stick with matters of fact.  I just didn't care anymore.
"Yes we did.  Now cheer up!  Sad doesn't look good on you."
I catch the eyes of a man from a different table.  Quickly they dart down and away.  I take another slow, deep breath, wanting what little privacy I had.
"Your the reason why I am always so miserable."
She sneers at me like I told a cruel joke.  She bends forward and grabs her purse.  Opening it she pulls out a cigarette.  A black lighter produces the flame as he takes a hard drag.
The waiter walks over to us as the ribbon of smoke dances in the perfumed air.  His white button up shirt, black slacks, vest and tie were immaculate.
"Excuse me miss, this is a non-smoking environment."  I'll give him credit, he started out strong, standing behind that bow tie of his, demanding respect.  He sputtered out as she blew a ring of smoke into his face.  He scrunches his face in displeasure.  She waves him away, ashing on a salad I hadn't touched.
"This is a waste of time, I'm leaving."  I slide the chair back enough to scoot out the side.  The carpet had a dull spring to it.  My best guess was that it'd been cleaned professionally a few days ago.  
Tossing my napkin onto the table I look at her.  Her steely eyes give a sign of weakness.
"Stay...please?"
I look away, at the cars driving by on the street.  That could be me.  Driving in my car to my apartment and away from this mess.  I tell myself to go.
I sit back down.
"I'm leaving you."  I felt that she deserved an explanation.  Not that I had been going over this in my head for days like a splinter in my mind.
"I'm not happy with you, with us, with anything about our relationship.  We don't ever get along.  Everyday is exactly the same.  We fight, make up, sex and sandwiches, more fighting again, more sex, rinse, wash, repeat, sandwiches.  I'm exhausted.
She remains quiet as I speak and for a moment after.  I feel as if I'd been too blunt yet honest enough.  She glides her index finger along the rim of her wine glass, making along a whistling noise.
"You can't go."  She looks through me as she says it.
"Why is that?"  Why did I just ask that question?  What happened to the car and the apartment?
"Because I need you.  More importantly, you need me."
I roll my eyes as her as I laugh loud enough to be heard clearly.
"I'm leaving.  What part of that does not say, I don't want you?"
"Want and need are different things."
Shaking my head, "I'm not going to argue anymore."
I stand up, notice how squishy the carpet beneath my feet are.  "Goodbye."
And, I walk away.

"Who was there for you after Amanda?"  She went there.
I stop only a few feet away as if picked off by a sniper.  Unaware that I'd been hit.  I don't bother turning.
"Liz was."
"And when she broke your heart?"  Silent.
"How about all those nights that you were alone?  Who was there with you?"
"You were."  It was a clean head shot.

Her hand runs across and down my back, our fingers touch as she brushes her hand against mine.  She glides up and around her chair to face me.  I look away at first, avoiding her entrapping eyes.  She touches my cheek gently, turning my head to tear out my throat.  Too my suprise she whispers in my ear.
"I've always been there for you, and I always will be.  You are only happy when you're miserable."
I look into her eyes as I curse myself.
"See you at home?"  I nod.  She kisses me and floats across the floor to the entrance.
My heart breaks as I watch her.
I would ask her to marry me but she isn't real.