How It's Going To Be [h.s.]

Chapter 40

Harry: I'm really proud of you for going back to work. Taking a longer break or never returning would have been the easy thing to do, but you are so much stronger than that. I hope you are finding your stride .x

Me: It's getting better, definitely.

Harry: I love hearing that.

I wasn't sure if he expected the conversation to end, but I was selfishly unwilling to let that happen. I needed just a few more minutes of talking to him. I needed the rush of knowing he would text me back immediately.

Me: What country are you in?

Harry: Argentina. It is stunning. I wish you were here.

An image appeared and it was a photo Harry had apparently just taken from the window of a car. It was the outskirts of a city bursting with color. The richness and beauty of a small part of Argentina was captured in the picture. I examined it for a few seconds, completely captured by the foreign intrigue of the streets surrounding Harry.

Me: With a view that beautiful, I wish I were there, too.

Harry: You would love it.

I typed out a message and hovered my thumb over the send button. I bit my lip and tried to anticipate the reaction Harry would have, but I could never be sure what he would say in any given situation. I decided the risk was worth it and sent the message.

Me: You'll have to take me there someday.

Harry: I'm planning on it .x

My heart swelled at his words. It was a faraway promise, but it felt as tangible as the phone in my hand as I read it. The stupid smile on my face was immovable.

Me: I cannot wait.

Harry: Neither can I, love. We're getting ready to pass through an area where I won't be able to get a signal. I'm happy you got the flowers. Have a good day at work. I will call you tonight x

Me: Be safe xx

I waited for a response for a few minutes, but one never came. He had passed into the area without a signal, and I had passed into another stage of missing him all over again.

____________

That evening, my headaches crept back. The pain that had kindly subsided for a period of time had decided to pay me a visit. The moment it struck, my first thought was not about the intensity of the pain, but the intensity of how much I suddenly missed Harry. He had always been there through the pain.

It began at dinner with friends. Over a basket of bread and tall glasses of diet soda, a dull ache settled behind my eyes. I tried to blink the pain away. I asked for ice water and took slow, deep sips. Finally, I reached in my bag and shook two small pills from a bottle of pain relievers I carried with me. Before our entrees arrived, the pain had dissolved and I was free to laugh with my friends again.

Later that night, Harry kept good to his word. It was nearing midnight in London, but I didn't mind staying up to talk to him. Harry was talking excitedly about meeting fans in Argentina. His voice was quick and upbeat. I could picture his wide eyes and lips threatening a smile through his storytelling.

"These girls came and started singing to us," he said. "They were singing traditional Argentinian songs and soon a whole crowd had gathered. It was cool because the girls were singing to us, but the crowd was there to see them. It was nice not to be the center of attention and to just be a spectator. The culture there is so-"