★
"Are you sure you don't want your own cigarette?" I offer Priya, holding the carton out for her.
"No thank you," Pri replies.
"Pri, you might as well, you share so much of mine that you are basically a smoker."
"No." She shakes her head, pulling up to a stop outside of my therapist's office. "I'm not and I don't want to start but I will have a puff of yours,"
"Right." I laugh, not seeing the logic at all.
There is shuffling from the back of the car and when I turn to look over my shoulder Cleo is watching me, or rather the cigarette carton, expectantly.
"Pri might not want one but I certainly do, pass 'em here, A." Smiling tightly, I reach my hand back to offer both Cooper and Cleo a cigarette from my pack.
"Why are you all here again?" I mumble the question as I hold the lighter up to the end of the cigarette while cupping my hand to shield the flame that is now lit.
I have a busy schedule today.
First I have a therapy session which both Priya and my therapist are insistent that I do not miss. Apparently, I have been 'slacking' lately and that's not good.
Then I have a lunch date with my friends, a long-awaited and much-needed catch-up since I have been so swept off my feet with work, this mess with Harry and Jonathan and above all else just the way that my life feels like it is coming crashing down around me.
And then tonight I have a night shoot for the film. Today was supposed to be my day off but Jon changed that plan pretty quickly when he called us to set later for a scene of Harry and us driving.
Like I said, I have a busy schedule today.
"I'm here for the lunch and the shoot later," Coop speaks up as I exhale a puff of smoke and offer up the cigarette for Pri, which of course, she takes.
"I'm here to make sure you actually take your butt into therapy and stay for the whole hour," Priya mutters around her cigarette.
I nod.
"And you, Cleo?" I raise my eyebrows at her through the rearview mirror.
"Me?" She questions, rolling her window down and blowing the smoke from her lungs out of the window. "I'm just here for the fun of it, really? I had nothing better to do honestly." She admits.
I nod with a small smile. "Yeah, me too."
"Right?" Pri wraps up the conversation and passes me back the cigarette. "Your session starts in about seven minutes so are you ready?"
"Always." I tightly grin. "One quick question though?"
Cooper leans forward from the backseat, a scrappy bandana tied around his neck that tickles my shoulder when it brushes up against me. "Hit us with it,"
"I'll hit you if you don't stop tickling me with that shit!" I brush the bandana off the seat and shove him back to the leather of my old car that Priya decided to drive today. "But what are you guys going to do while I sit in there for an hour and spill out all of my secrets?"
"Probably go and get some food," Cleo tells me. "I could eat. Do you want anything?"
I shake my head, sucking on the shortening cigarette that is shrinking with each harsh inhale I take.
"Arlie–" Priya drawls my name out with that motherly warning tone.
"Priya–" I groan back. "You don't have to mother me. I'm fine."
Her brown eyes rake over my face, detecting any sort of lie. "Did you eat this morning before we came?"
"If I say I did, will you stop pestering me about it?"
She shakes her head and purses her lips. "Probably not. Cleo, remind me to get Arlie some fries."
"I don't need fries, I need you guys to cut me some slack," I grumble as I start to unbuckle my seatbelt and climb out of the car.
"Arlie?" When I slam the door shut and stalk off towards the front door of my therapist's office building, I hear Priya's shrill version of her voice sharply call after me. "Arlie, hang on a second."
I turn around with a tight smile plastered on my lip and my smoking cigarette burning between two of my fingers.
"Yeah?"
"Are you okay, like seriously?"
I nod, trying to convince her with a steady smile. "Why wouldn't I be alright?"
Shaking her head, her eyes narrow while she tries to analyse me and make sure that I am telling the truth.
"Are you-"
Stopping short before finishing her sentence. It doesn't exactly take a genius to work out what she is trying to say or even imply here.
"Go on, say it." I urge.
"Are you using again?"
In reality, I know that my heart is still steadily pumping blood around my body as it should be. But the second that Priya asks me such a hard-hitting question, it feels like my heart stops and my body gets frozen instantaneously.
My fingers jam into the flesh of my thighs while I try to disguise the panic storming through me.
I don't want to lie to Priya, she is my person. She always has been my person and the one that I trust the most but I know that she will freak out if I admit to her.
I have only had a couple of slip-ups recently. But I am an addict, I know that.
The saying 'Once an addict, always an addict' is very true. I fight it as much as I can, as much as everyone else who has ever had to resist and fight the urge to abuse something harmful.
Every single day I resist.
But at the same time, every single day I want to give up and just take it.
The feelings don't just randomly go away. The urge doesn't just cease and dry up.
It will always be there.
Perhaps one day it will become bearable and perhaps one day I will barely think about how much I constantly want a fix. Perhaps one day I will get through days, weeks, months, and years of my life without so much as craving something strong to take the edge off.
But the tendency will be there.
It won't ever be cured but perhaps, one day, I will be able to manage it.
I will always need to be careful and cautious of what I am around and who is doing things in front of my face.
But then again, I can't shake the relief that I get when giving in to the destruction.
I have had a couple of slip-ups recently but I have it under control and Priya has given up so much of her life to accommodate me. She put her world on hold for the past three and a half years to make sure that I was fine.
Priya is my person.
But after giving up her whole life for me, she needs the chance to be her own person for a while.
If I were to be honest with her, if I were to confess what has happened over the last couple of months, then she would drop everything once again and be by my side.
She deserves more than that.
So, I take a deep breath, close my eyes and hope that I will be forgiven before putting on the performance of my life.
"What?" I gasp, stepping back from her. "No!"
Her face retracts, her neck pulling her back as she withdraws from me and narrows her eyes into thin slits of surmise.
"Arls–"
I shake my head, feeling my eyes brim with tears and it isn't because I am upset with her. More so that I am pissed off at myself for putting myself in a position where I have to lie to the one person who is always here.
Lying to Priya feels like lying to the only person who has never left.
Because that is the truth; Priya is the only person who has never left me. Never given up on me
"Arlie." I correct softly before inserting a little more force into my voice. "Priya, I'm not using... I'm clean,"
Letting out a breath of relief, she stares at me, still with her eyes thinned with suspicion.
"I promise," I mutter out the final word on the matter with an astounding amount of hatred sizzling inside of me for myself and my stupid actions.
"Arlie?"
"I promise," I nod, pulling the tightest smile as a form of reassurance for her but all it does is make her inspect me harder. "I promise, Pri. I'm going to be late if I don't..."
Pointing my thumbs over my shoulder, I motion to the therapist's office where Priya nods and waves her hand in the direction of the building.
"Yes, yes... go!" She flaps off towards the building. "We'll be here waiting for when you're done,"
The whole time that I trudge up the obscene set of stairs, into the overly warm waiting room and then get called into the office by my therapist's cold voice, I am thinking through what lie I have just told.
All I am doing lately is lying.
Lying to Priya, to my friends, to Harry, to Jonathan.
Lying to myself.
My session starts off routinely. First I am asked how the week has been and then when I give a rough description of my diary my itinerary, I am then asked how I feel about events that have happened to me during the past week.
This happens every single week, or at least the weeks I actually go to the sessions that I am paying for.
"Now, tell me, Arlie... How has it been seeing Harry so often?"
Hooking my hands over my bent knee, I use the side of my nail, which is still painted for Alice's character in Don't Worry Darling, to scratch at my skin and create a white line in its wake.
"It's umm..." I cut myself off, thinking about what word is best to use here.
Tough?
Rough?
Heartbreaking?
Soul destroying?
Mind numbing?
Tragic?
"It's hard..." I confess, looking anywhere but my therapist's eyes that are burning into my forehead and peering into my soul.
"We can do better than that, Arlie..." He prompts. "How have you been feeling?"
I swallow, looking up at the ceiling and taking a deep breath.
"You- you have no idea..." I say and then pause to take a deep breath and slide my arms around my middle to hold the pieces of me together. "You have no idea how tragic it is to see the person you once loved more than anything in the world day in and day out."
My therapist nods slowly, absorbing what I am saying but not cutting in until he is sure that I am done spilling my inner secrets.
I pause again, sniffling while trying to suck up all the emotions that were threatening to drip out of me.
"And now..." I shake my head, staring at him and acting as if I was talking to my friends, gossiping and venting all of my feelings.
Only, I can't talk to them about Harry because I am not supposed to have any feelings about Harry.
"Do you know what's harder?"
My therapist bows his head to encourage me to continue and flattens his outstretched hand for me to continue.
"Seeing his face and knowing that you're talking to a stranger." Inhaling through my nose, I keep my composure. "He was once my home and now he's a stranger... I- I don't k-know him?"
This realisation comes as more of a wake up call for me than I was anticipating.
"Where do you feel that?"
My mind jumps and my eyes widen a little. "What?"
"Where do you feel that?"
April 25th 2014
Seven years ago...
Even an hour after the opening night of the 'Where We Are Tour', Harry's chest rises and falls deeply with the adrenaline that is still pumping through his veins.
He lays out on the hotel balcony with me, still fully clothed in sticky, slightly sweaty clothes that he wore on stage. A scarf is still knotted into his hair, brushing the thick curls back from his forehead.
I am laying one way, my legs outstretched toward the balcony furniture while Harry has his head tucked up beside mine although he lays in the opposite direction with his legs facing the sliding French doors that lead to our hotel room.
"Where do you feel stuff?" He asks me under his breath, staring up at the stars that litter the Bogotá sky.
I tilt my head to the side, ever so slightly managing to peer at him. "What do you mean?"
"Well, here..." He reaches for my arm and takes my hand. Pressing it to the bottom of his chest, I feel it rising and sinking with the heavy breaths he is still puffing out. "...here is where I feel anxiety before performing. Instead of butterflies, it's like a tickling bug crawling through me."
I smile, loving such a small insight inside of his brain.
"...And here..." He moves my hand to his and leaves them there. "...I feel anger in my hands because I always feel the need to hit someone when I'm pissed."
I nod again, letting him continue to walk me through each emotion and where in his body he feels it.
"I feel sadness in my throat..." He explains, softly bringing my cold fingertips to skid along the curve of his throat, tracing down his Adam's apple. "...it gets tight when I am trying not to cry... and my ribcage is where I feel apprehension... they constrict and I can't breathe..."
Not being able to wipe the smile from my face, I let Harry guide my hand around and explore his emotions with him under the stars. He could be out partying with the rest of the boys but here he is... with me.
"So, where do you feel stuff, Arls?"
I hum, not knowing where to start.
"Pick an emotion?"
My stomach drops when he speaks the next word that we have been avoiding like the black death. No matter how much I feel it, no matter how many times people tell us that we have clearly fallen hard for one another; we ignore it.
Until now.
"Love,"
I swallow the lump in my throat that I now know as anxiety.
Lifting Harry's hand, I guide it all over my body. From my toes to my chest to my head to my fingertips.
A nervous tingle rattles through me and I take a deep breath.
"I love everywhere."
He turns his head to the side, green eyes that I adore so much igniting with hope and happiness.
"I love you everywhere," I clarify. "And I probably always will,"
He grins, leaning up onto his elbow so that he can roll onto his side and onto me. His mouth finds mine within a matter of seconds and I realise that my lips are where I feel pure joy. Where I smile and where I get to kiss my boyfriend.
Harry's lips mould perfectly with mine, like they were sculpted perfectly for me and me only. His tongue glides along my bottom lip and swipes away the doubt in my mind that I was saying such a weighted word too early.
"I love you everywhere too," He adds, breathlessly pulling back from me so that only the swells of our lips brush.
My hands are tangled up in his hair, brushing his chocolate curls back with a giddy, lovesick grin that makes me feel like a million butterflies are erupting in my stomach.
I wasn't kidding when I said I loved him everywhere.
Each part of my skin is on fire with his touch, each sweet kiss that he presses into my skin or my lips makes me feel like I could walk on water.
"But especially..." He takes my hand, simultaneously kissing my lips deeply again so I hum in contentment. Placing my hand over his thumping heart, he holds the back of my hand to his heart. "...here..."
Present day...
I snap out of my daydream, blinking to eradicate the visions of my past with Harry flitting behind my eyelids like a movie.
"Where do you feel this?"
Shaking my head again, I remember that the voice I am hearing isn't actually Harry's but rather that of my old therapist who is sitting opposite me in a leather chair within this stupid, stuffy office.
"I think in my throat?"
"Your throat?" He repeats, encouraging me to continue.
I nod, running my hand carefully up to my throat, copying the action that I once performed on Harry when I run the tip of my finger down from my chin to the point where my two clavicle bones meet.
"It gets tight when I'm around him. M-maybe like my body is stopping me from screaming what I am actually thinking at him..."
Tilting his head to the side, my therapist looks at me over the top of his glasses.
"And what are you actually thinking?"
"I hate him but I don't know if I actually do," I whisper out into the air.
At this point I am talking solely to myself, I am having a conversation- or rather a battle- with myself.
"I had to hate him, you know?"
"Why?"
Huffing out another breath, I tilt my head back and blink up at the ceiling.
"Because..." I draw in a deep breath and then face the music, otherwise known as my grumpy therapist. "How else was I supposed to survive?"
There is a prolonged silence that is deeply subdued to a somewhat uncomfortable atmosphere between my therapist and myself.
He takes another look down at the notepad resting on his lap which I'm sure he doesn't actually use to write notes in. In my opinion, it is a psychological technique to throw me off.
"Are you trying to survive right now?" He questions. "Are you still surviving?"
I press my lips together, knowing that this is the moment where I am supposed to confess that I have relapsed a couple of times recently before I am too deep in this lie.
This is my chance to save myself.
But I don't.
Instead, I purse my lips and clear my throat.
"No."
"So..." He urges another time. "Do you really still need to hate Harry in order to survive or do you need to hate Harry in order to keep him at a distance?"
I look up, using my thumb to collect the stray residue of moisture underneath my eyes. They aren't full tears but there is certainly some sadness pooling.
"Are you saying I should cheat on my boyfriend?"
Looking over the rim of his glasses that sit on the bridge of his nose, he slowly slides them off his face and folds the arms in on themselves before tucking the pair into his top pocket.
"That is a whole other conversation that unfortunately we don't have time for today, Arlie."
I nod, pushing off the couch and collecting my things as that is a hint to start packing up.
"-However..." He stops me, summoning my attention so that I stop in the doorway with my bag hanging off my shoulder and an expectant, small smile resting on my lips.
"Yeah?"
"The universe works in funny ways. Sometimes the things we need most are the things we are trying so desperately to push away..."
I raise my eyebrow, scoffing as I grab the door handle. "Is that supposed to help me, here?"
"Just think about it, okay?"
I shake my head. "It sounds like you're telling me that I should cheat on my boyfriend."
Waving his hand at me dismissively, my therapist flashes a tight smile.
"Interpret that as you will, Arlie. I'll see you next week."
Walking out, I let the door slam behind me as I mutter to myself.
"Yeah, don't hold your breath."
this was kinda a filler chapter but the flashback was fun.
next one is something I've been so excited for hehe :)