The Book

Chapter 33

Hope everyone is having (or had) a very happy spring!!

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•• Harry’s P.O.V. ••

            The first thing I told Alex when she picked up her phone on the third ring was that I would fly back London in a heartbeat if anything happened to her.

            “Why don’t you just ring her up yourself.”  Alex said into her phone like it was the most obvious thing.

            I scoffed, “You expect me to do that?  After my tantrum?  She won’t ever speak to me again.”  I confessed. 

            I knew it had to be true.  There was not a chance she would pick up if I called her.  Heck, there’s probably a chance she’ll avoid me when I get back to London in about a few days time.  There was no way she would talk to me after everything that happened.

             It still doesn’t seem real.  She can’t be sick, there’s no way she could be.  She’s young, beautiful, and has her whole life ahead of her.  There’s no way it’s possible for her to be sick.  There’s no possible way for her to have cancer.

Cancer.

 “You have to talk to her.  I know you probably don’t want to but you have to…” As Alex kept going off about why I should speak to her my mind drifted elsewhere.

There’s no possible way it could be her.  There was a mistake in the diagnosis, in the hospital.  Something else.  It couldn’t be her.  I could feel my mind shutting down once more.  It happened once.  It happened when she told me. 

I completely lost it.  I went mental around her.  First it started with the shouting, the breaking of the lamp that I’d never liked, and then the book.  I threw at her.  I almost hit her.  It wasn’t meant for her, it was meant for the floor; opposite to where she was.  But the book landed next to her instead.  I was lucky that it didn’t hit her or I would’ve been in deep.

            I always think too hard when I’m around her.  Or just even the tiniest thought of her makes it all too much for my head.  I look back at all the signs I missed, I look back on all of her poor excuses that I knew were lies but didn’t think much of them, I knew her secret was big by the tension it caused.  But I never knew the severity of the secret.

 I didn’t contact her after she told me.  I know I should’ve though.   I knew that what I did was a jerk move, to let her cope by herself, but I couldn’t bring myself to call her.  What if I called her and she didn’t pick up?  What if she didn’t want to hear my apologies?  What if she didn’t want me.

            “You don’t know how much pain she’s in, Harry––Harry?  Are you even listening to me?” Alex snapped out of her train of thought to check up on me.

I hummed in response, “ ‘Course.”

 “Bull.”  She muttered under her breath.  She sighed, “Harry, you have to take this seriously.  This is a serious concept––”

“You don’t think I know?”  I snaped at her.  I stand up from my spot on the couch in one of the spare dressing rooms of a venue we’re playing at.  Honestly, I don’t even know where we are.  That’s the least of my concerns.