This is a prose/story based on the lyric of 'Right next door (because of me)' by The Robert Cray Band.
Consequences of Actions
It's not the whiskey that's keeping me awake although the half bottle I have drank added to the two bottles of wine consumed with dinner with a 'close' friend who now lays silently beside me, should have me comatose by now. And it's not the weed, with it's unmistakable aromatic flavors that linger within the room, mingling with the cloud of grayness that hovers within, around, and above the bed. And nor is it the electric Stratocaster, that lies idly in my hands, open to m mindless and aimless, plucking and strumming, that has now become the soundtrack to this night. It is the sound, the echoing through the thin walls, of the couple next-door, their words and fighting, the dueling of accusations and malicious intentions, that causes my mind unease, and keeps me from the tranquil peacefulness of sleep.I glance at the clock as the time drifts past the midnight hour, and for a moment I am hypnotized by the ticking movement of the second hand as it circles the clock-face. However I am soon dragged back to reality when he uses words that cut deep within me too, words that echo his mistrust, his suspicion of loyalties misplaced, his accusations of a back door man, a chancer, a player, a trespasser of love. And I knew that at that moment, the axe was gonna fall, the final nail had been driven into the coffin, and it was all because of me.
In the silence of the aftermath, I hear him shuffle about as those poisonous and life-shattering words fall to the floor. I hear him ask the ultimate question 'Who?' with the anger still within his voice, and I strain an ear, leaning back almost connecting with the wall, in order to try and hear her reply, but she just mumbles words that are only audible to herself. I allow for a small sigh of relief to release some of the tension within me, and listen as he paces the room, gearing up his desire to interrogate further. And then he says with all the seriousness he can muster, 'don't you lye to me no more. Don't you....' the trailing of his words an indication, a warning of what is to come, and I can almost picture his face looking in my direction, as if he can see me through thin see-through walls, before he says my name with a confidence of correctness. And I bow my head in the shame of knowing this is all because of me.
I look to the nameless, faceless girl lying beside me, and I recall that afternoon, when 'she' was laying here instead. I remember those comments of flattery, of understanding, of consulment and comfort, that word by word, sentence by sentence, seduced her and led to her by the hand into her indiscretion. And I remember that triumphant feeling when the deed was done, and another notch on my guitar was made, and how I never gave a second thought to the consequences of my actions. But now here I am amidst those consequences of those actions, and she is away from me, watching her fairy-tale crumble, watching the the dream become ashes, and I feel her pain, and in the silence of this lonely night, I can hear the breaking of their hearts.
With the bottle empty, and the weed smoked, I am still sat here with the Strat in hands, still unable to find sleep. There has been silence next-door for many an hour now, and I hope, and I pray, I wish and hope that a way had been found for reconciliation, and the passion of making up, has re-ignited those flames that once burned so wild and bright. But those thoughts, those idealistic ideas are abandoned when I hear the movement and voices of packing, the movement and voices of deciding whose is whose, the movement and voices of splitting joint possessions, taking the bear essentials to tied him over for the upcoming days of a motel room. And then after making the basics of arrangement to come back for the rest on another date, I hear the opening and the slamming of the front door that shakes the building like the storm of '87.
I rise and cross to the window, and there I try to discreetly pull aside the curtain in order to look beyond. However 'his' attention is alerted, and he looks in my direction, and for the briefest of moments, that feels like a lifetime, our eyes lock and I see the disappointment he feels within. Then he gets in his car, firing up the willing engine, and makes good his escape from the wreckage of yet another broken promise. And in the dying moments of the silencing of the engine fading into the distance, I hear her tears beginning to fall, and feel I should go to her. But if I did, what would I say, what could I say, other than it's because of me.
Below is the original lyric:
Right next door (because of me).
I can hear the couple fighting right next door.
Her angry words sound clear, through these thin walls.
Around midnight, I heard him shout, unfaithful woman.
And I knew right then the axe was gonna fall.
It's because of me,
It's because of me.
I heard him shout who is he, she mumbled low.
He said, baby don't you lie to me no more.
And I'm listenin' through these thin walls in silent shame.
As he called out my name, I was right next door.
It's because of me,
It's because of me.
It's because of me,
It's because of me.
Oh she was right next door, and I'm such a strong persuader.
She was just another notch on my guitar.
She's gonna lose the man that really loves her,
In the silence I can hear their breaking hearts.
[Solo]
At daybreak I here him pack and say goodbye.
I can hear him slam the door and walk away.
Right next door I hear that woman start to cry.
I should go to her, but what would I say.
It's because of me,
It's because of me.
It's because of me,
It's because of me.
Oh she was right next door, and I'm such a strong persuader.
She was just another notch on my guitar.
She's gonna lose the man that really loves her,
In the silence I can hear their breaking hearts.
