Harry is acting as if everything that happened at the birthday party didn't happen at all. Not once did he bring up the subject during the car ride back home like I thought he would. Which is, in a way, good because it's not something that I'd like to relive. But, on the other hand, it worries me because him - and us - not talking about things is one of the reasons why we got into a fight.
And if I have to be completely honest, it freaks me out a little – a lot – because what Martha said back there, despite how hurtful it was, makes a lot of sense to me. Maybe things would be so much better if I'm out of the picture and if Harry and Audrey are together. That would certainly make everyone happier – especially his mum.
So, whilst I hate to bring up what Martha said to me, I feel like I have to. I know without a trace of doubt that if I don't do this, it'll eat me up and I'll not get any sleep – for God knows how long.
A number of questions are swimming around in my head and for some reasons I can't quite decipher I don't think I'd want to know the answers. The small voice in my head tells me that it probably has something to do with the fact that I'm scared to find out the truth. Truth hurts, that's what they say and right now, I'm uncertain if that's what I need.
Alas, despite my mind being in turmoil, that doesn't stop me from opening my big mouth and talk about the one thing I'd rather not discuss right now.
"That was.. eventful," I begin as soon as he's unlocked the door and stepped inside. He holds the door open for me, his eyes not meeting mine when those words leave my mouth. He closes the door once I've stepped inside and I watch as he takes off his coat. He is still not looking at me, so I try again because we need to at least acknowledge what has happened: "Don't you think so?"
He purses his lips together, his brows furrowing. I don't like the look on his face right now. "It was horrible," he says finally. A sigh leaves his mouth and he pinches the bridge of his nose before he eventually, albeit reluctantly looks up and meets my eyes. "I'm so so sorry for everything that she said. It was out of line and if I knew she was gonna say all those things, I wouldn't have brought you to that stupid party."
"You don't have to apologise," I tell him, to which he frowns. He looks confused, so I add, "She has a valid concern."
"What do you mean?" He quizzes.
"It's just- It's obvious that she doesn't like me, Harry-"
Before I can finish my sentence, he's already shaking his head. "-That's not true-"
"-You don't have to keep denying it. I'm not blind, Harry." I cut him off and there's an edge to my voice. "Everyone can see that she doesn't like me and that's.. okay."
"Beverly, that's-" He tries to stop me, but I'm not going to let him.
I hold one finger up, a way for me to tell him that he should let me finish what I want to say. He nods his head as he presses his lips together and stops speaking altogether. I take a deep breath, my eyes fixed on the floor whilst I try to steady myself.
Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out.
I look up and finally, I say it: "Maybe we should listen to your mum. I mean she's right, isn't she?"
Upon hearing what I've just said, Harry takes a few steps back and scans my face. He doesn't say anything for a couple of seconds as if he's waiting for me to continue, but when I don't, a bewildered look takes over his face. The way he's looking at me right now, it is as if I've just grown another head. "You're joking, right?"
I open my mouth only to close it a second later. That happens for a few times before I finally find the right words to say. "I-I don't think so, no," I shake my head. My heart feels so heavy as I speak. "Why are we – why am I - even here, Harry?"
