Night Changes

7

I had known his answer before it had even passed his perfect lips. I had known the moment the conversation started, before I even started it even. And in a way, I think I knew the moment I read that single fucking line in his email. And yet, here I was, in all my knowing, still having the wind knocked out of me and my stomach plummeting to my feet.

He was going to New York. He really was going. I couldn’t decide on what emotion to feel the strongest. Relief that the conversation had started, and I could finally get the answers I had been brewing over for the last few days. Fear at the fact that he had actually confirmed that he would be going to New York, moving there, in the coming future. Or irrational anger at the fact that not only had he kept this from me all this time, but he had me move in with him. He had me leave my comfortable little hideaway, the apartment that he knew I loved, to come and live with him and start a life with him in his flat.

He had known before I  moved in that he would be going to New York. Chances are he knew before he had even asked me to move in with him. And yet, he had asked. He had helped me pack, helped me move, and loved every minute of me linking my life to his in this way, all the while knowing he would be leaving me.

Yup. Anger was the emotion that won out.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I finally blurted, my mental turmoil put on pause so that some of the frantic panic going on in my head could be released.  “You are moving to New York?”

“Yes.” He said calmly despite my outburst.

“Were you planning on telling me this?”

“Yes, Aubrey of course I was,”

“WHEN!?” I shouted. “When I came home from work to find out at the door with your fucking bags packed? You had me move in with you, you selfish prick! I left my apartment, my solitude, my best friend across the hall to come and start a life with you! All the while you were making your plans to move to New York!?”

“Aubrey, please, calm down,” Harry said, reaching a hand towards me to cup my face. I slapped his hand away harshly, glaring at him.

“Don’t fucking tell me to calm down!  I fucking left my life to start one with you, and you’re leaving!? Not even just for a week or so, you’re actually moving?” Harry said nothing, so I forced him to respond with a question.  “How long?”

“I don’t know,” he said quietly. “Maybe six months.”

“SIX MONTHS?!”

“Baby,” he tried to calm me again, reaching towards me only to be refused when I stood abruptly from the couch, walking over towards the windows to get some space from him. Finally, I turned back, my arms crossed over my chest.

“You are moving to New York for six months, and what am I supposed to do, Harry?  Stay here in your apartment alone?  Why did you even ask me to move in with you if you knew you were leaving?”

“I didn’t know,” he said, standing from the couch but not making a move to approach me. “Not for sure.”