I want to go home. . . I'm just not sure where that is now.
I want to go back to the time when I was just seventeen years old, reading the three same books I always do, in the bleachers, just watching the boy play on his own.
I wish I did just let him play. I wish during the first time the ball touched my leg, I just kicked it back without saying a single word. I wish I didn't have to be curious that time. . . . maybe then, things wouldn't hurt this way.
Things probably won't go this way.
The thing is, I can recall every single moment of my life, when have I last eaten an icecream, when was the last time I entered a Thai restaurant or when was the last time I said something poetic to someone. . . but, I can never recall when I've felt this kind of pain before.
It's the kind of pain that just wants to make you stop in your tracks and just stay there because you couldn't move. It's the kind of pain that will have you wishing you could turn back time and not make the mistake that caused it.
I can't recall when I felt this. . . but I guess, it's because this is the worst.
"This is sort of boring, we both know that the boy and the girl are going to end up together in the end," I mutter and scoff. I roll my eyes. . . "Movies."
"Oh, are you sure?" Dad asks, raising an eyebrow.
It's a boring Sunday, and here are the two of us, both sunk on the couch with a bowl of popcorn between us.
It's been days since my last incident with Harry, five days, to the exact. He stopped with the home visit but now, I almost can't remember how many numbers I've already blocked, messages I haven't read and calls I never answered.
Just three days ago, the letter he gave me and the book is put somewhere in the attic, somewhere I don't know because I asked Wanda to put it there and never tell me where it is. His necklace, on the other hand, is back to where I first saw it in person.
I nod, "I'm sure. The couple would always end up together. . . it's like destiny and every other stuff that only exists in movies."
"Then why are we still watching this?" Dad asks sarcastically.
"You chose it," I mumble.
"Taylor. . ."
"Let's watch a different movie," I suggest.
"Taylor, just why not give this a chance?"
I glare at him. I don't think he gets me. We're already halfway through the movie. . . I already gave it a chance! And I've decided, I don't care, I don't want this to go on.
"Dad, just choose another movie," I say very firmly.
Letters to Juliet. . . things are not going my way because that's the freaking thing dad chose.
I don't even need to go into too much details but at the very least, it's set in Italy. Things are said in Italian. Plot twist, blonde American girl and an English boy. . . yay, right?
"Why?" Dad asks and I cannot believe he still can't understand why not.
"Dad, I can understand everything they say even without the subtitles, everything Italian is giving me a headache!" I groan out loud.
"Even me?"
God, Harry, especially you.
My eyebrows meet and both dad and I turn around.
"Harry, didn't I tell you not to come here anymore?" Dad asks him gruffly.
"I know, sir." Harry licks his lips and walks towards us. "But I can't give up that easily."
Isn't that what you did?
"Harold, what do you want?" I ask very quietly.
"Just a few more hours."
"For what?" I ask.
"I just need to take you somewhere and if you're still not satisfied with anything, then I'll stop. No more calls, texts, anything."
Sincerity. It wasn't hard to hear at all.
"Why do you need to explain? I've had a bad day when we talked so you're forgiven," I say in a 'duh' tone.
"Then, you wouldn't mind coming out with an old friend?" He asks and smiles, dimples showing off.
God.
I almost run breathless. I gulp down and say very daringly, "Okay, I don't mind. But if you waste another few hours, you're dead to me."
"By any means," he mutters as I stand up.
I almost smile. . . for once, we've exchanged a few sentences in the way we used to. It's the way we used to talk, but then I remind myself that it will never go that way forever.
Plus, with Harry, there are some moods when he'd be really, awfully upsy-daisy when in reality, he's mad as hell.
I'm still sort of preparing myself if the latter was the option.
"Dad, I'll be home later. If - if something goes wrong, I'll ask to be taken home immediately. Okay?" I ask very innocently leading dad to have no choice.
From the looks of it, I think, he's starting to suspect. I want to let him know. . . but, I want him to know on his own.
"I'll be fine," I say and look at Harry, then back at dad. "Least you know whose face will be put up on the 'Wanted' signs."
Harry's lips just pulls up a bit at the sides as if he already got his victory but his eyes say otherwise. . . the story had just begun and I'm preparing myself for what's next.
I whistle a little once I see his same old gray car. "Sweet ride," I comment.
Harry doesn't comment. He opens the door for me and then enters on his own very quietly. I was right, he's mad as hell.
When he starts driving, his phone starts ringing off the hook and he never answers. One time, when he finally grabs his phone, he turns it off and tosses it behind him.
"That could be your wife," I say.
"I don't want to walk about that," he says.
"Okay, you know I just - I just -" I start stuttering once I make the mistake of looking out of the window. The same old bridge.
No. No way! No way!
I tug tightly to whatever I can get my hands on. My head, it's the kind of headache that will just make me want to throw a tantrum.
I don't need this right now.
Images, memories, just things that I always dream about.
Including the man on the driver seat.
I lick my lips. Once I get through with the trouble of breathing and clearing my head, I simply close my eyes and lean my head on the window.
The ride is just quiet. I'm actually thinking what came into my head that I actually came with Harry. There isn't a single point where one of us wanted to open a conversation.
It goes on that way for more or less thirty minutes.
"We're here," Harry says softly so he walks out of the car. He was on his way to open the car door for me but I open it before he could do it.
During the whole ride I had assumed he'd take me here.
I look up at the building, sixth floor, just a few doors from the fire exit. . . I've lived there for almost three years.
I lean against his car, arms crossed and lips pursed. "Uh, n-nice place?" I raise an eyebrow at Harry.
If he still has the place the way it used to be, I might actually just blank out.
Harry looks at me like I'm a hopeless case, a mystery that he'll have trouble solving and then he sighs.
"Let's just get inside."
Despite the day being sunny, bright as ever, it feels like one of the coldest days of the year.
He takes my left hand and flips it over, looking at the wrist. Within that time, I see his as well. . . no ring, just the tattoo. He sighs exasperatedly and mutters something about clearing everything about him.
He doesn't drop my hand like I expect, he holds it tight and starts walking.
I'm not comfortable. I want him to let go. I mean, he has already done that to me, I don't think doing it literally would make a difference.
I try to pull my hand away but. . . no good.
He leads the way, walking through the elevator. A lot of people glance but nothing is actually their business. There are a few people inside the elevator apart from us so I'm hoping that no argument will broke out.
"Can you please let go?" I ask softly, I'm almost begging.
"No," Harry answers sternly.
"I don't understand you." One of the few true statements I've ever said.
"Oh really?" He asks sarcastically.
"Really," I answer.
He holds my hand tighter as if he really has no plans of letting me go. I just follow behind him. He takes his key out and opens the door for our old flat. . . our.
No way.
If it isn't Harry, I'd be making a lot of sarcastic remarks right now. But I have a feeling that he already knows.
The way it used to be.
Everything is still the same as the last time I've seen it. Harry takes me to the bedroom where the world map is still there.
I gulp harshly, my mind is starting to fog out.
I freeze once I see those pictures. We've been everywhere and all of a sudden, I don't want to be reminded of it.
"You know, I don't really believe you don't remember me." Harry says, taking a very deep breath. He breaks the silence that's been over us almost since the start. "If maybe, in case, you really don't, I hope this reminds you."
I slightly ignore him, taking a few steps. I run my fingers through the photographs. They all seem so long ago.
"Not for one second did I believe that you forgot about me," he says.
Before I even notice, my cheeks are already wet from tears. Right then, I knew the lying would just stop.
"How?" I ask, facing him.
He lets go of my hand for the first time and takes something out of his pocket. He hangs his necklace on one of the tacks on the wall.
"You went back there," I say. I know where I left that necklace of his and that's at the bridge. I just hung it there.
"I always do," he says. "The place where I first met you is the same place that took you away."
"That's not what happened," I slightly croak, tears still coming out. "It didn't take me away. . . you walked away."
I wipe my tears away, trying to think of the words that would hurt less. "Thanks for the ride." I lick my lips. "I had fun while it lasted."
"Taylor, I'm sorry. I didn't -"
I nod. "That's okay. I mean -- n-not okay b-but I deal. Truth is. . ."
"I forgave you the moment you walked out the church door," I tell him very softly with a forced smile.
I am mad, way beyond the point I would know. . . but not at him, not directly. I never stayed angry at someone for far too long even if they've done the very worst.
I sniffle a little and with a fake smile I say, "You know I've never really been the unforgiving type."
"But Taylor, what I did - it's not something you just forgive," Harry reasons out. As always, he never liked it when I'd forgive him easily. "Taylor, come on. . . y-you-"
"What do you want me to do?" I ask softly. "Yell at you? Hurt you? Punish you? I can't. It's just making me feel worse."
Silence creeps around the room, it almost has the same aura as an abandoned cabin in the middle of winter.
He is still taken aback by my words, and he wasn't exactly expecting those words from me.
Forgiveness? Why would he expect that from me? I was left behind by everyone and everything including him. Yet, he has that now.
"Waking up, and you weren't there. . . I knew something went wrong, I knew something just changed along the way," I start, I bite my lower lip as I can't do anything else to calm my breathing, to stop crying. I don't look at him, I just stare at the wall in front of us. "They're good, y-you know. Not a single thing would remind me of you if I didn't remember. The tattoo, the pictures of us, in frames and in books, my phone. . . they're all cleared. It's like you never even existed."
I take a deep breath, this is going to hurt.
"I'm sorry but I wish it was that way."
He doesn't reply. He's just there, quietly breaking, not saying a single word.
And then I thought of something that burns. . . that will burn, for me.
"Th-That Samara. . . do you - do you love her?" I ask, gazing at his face. I guess I know the answer but I want to hear it. "Harry, do you love her?"
He stares right to my eyes and the silence was already an answer. But of course, it hurts a lot more to hear it.
"Yes."
I nod and shut my eyes, "Okay. . . That's all I need to know."
I start walking away, I start making my path back the door. I was almost there. Of course, he had to say something.
"Maybe I was wrong," he says and I stop. "Maybe you really don't remember me. Maybe you're not the Taylor I knew."
What the hell is he talking about?! I'm the one who was left behind by him.
Biting my lip, I wipe my cheeks from the tears that had been there.
I slowly turn around, feeling the worst mix of emotions in me.
"Because Taylor, you wouldn't just walk out. . .," Harry says. "You will never accept it just like that. You'll fight for it."
"Fight for what?" I ask faintly. "Us? You're expecting me to? When you didn't?"
He seemed offended, astounded even.
"I was - Taylor that - you couldn't possibly understand! You weren't there!" He yells frustratedly.
I wasn't there.
Restraint. . . something I barely have when people starts talking to me this way.
I wasn't there. . .
"You're saying it like it's my choice. I didn't want that accident, Harry," I say, my voice normal now unlike the hushed tones from earlier. "Do you think I wanted that? Have everyone to rewrite my history?! Wake up and then two months later, my boyfriend is getting married to someone else?!"
Harry stares wide eyed at me, with the tone I'm using now. . . he knows me too well not to say anything or I'll burst on him.
"Go ahead," he says. "For once, I want you to be real. Show me."
That's a challenge.
"No." I take a deep breath. "I just want an explanation why. And I got it. Let me just go like you already had."
"Taylor, y-you have no idea what just -" Harry wipes his cheeks from his tears. "You have no idea what I'd give just to have you back, just to have the things we used to. If I'd have known that -"
"That I'll wake up, you'll what? Stay? Because I'm the uncertain choice, you chose something else. Harry, you chose to give up on me. You chose to leave me. Now, let me leave."
"Don't!" He yells. "I can't lose you twice!"
I keep wiping my tears away. I'm trying to be as calm as possible but any second now, the anger will just burst out.
"You can't have it all Harold. You said you love your wife, okay. I can step aside."
I mean it. I still love Harry, but there's nothing to work with now.
"No! N-No, T-Taylor - th-this - No!"
"What? You already got married and I gotta say that sucks but," I trail and then after, I gave him a shrug, "that's pretty much Game Over."
"I can change it."
I shake my head, I want him back but I'm not that delusional to not know that going back the way we used to be is already impossible.
"You know that can't happen, right?" I ask faintly. "You're married Harry, just a few weeks ago, in front of my eyes. We can't go back."
"We can."
"You're always an idiot," I mutter and laugh, though I don't really find anything funny in the competition. "It's not that simple, Harry."
I want him back. I know that, I know how true that statement is but even if that's true, reality will still strike back. It's in the reality that he left me, let me go, he married someone else and he can't just ask me back.
"Face it. . . You lived your life in the fast lane, racer. I'm sorry I got left behind."
Again with the tortured, bright smile with the glimmering, sad twinkle in my eyes.
"Are you mad at me?" He asks, licking his lips. "That'd be easier, you know. Why aren't you angry at me?! You should be." He runs his fingers through his hair, taking a step forward and then stopping himself.
He keeps walking around me, sounding and looking frustrated beyond comprehension.
"I already told you, I can't," I say, my voice cracking with every word. I've been crying too much these days and this is the worst. "It was too painful to watch you get married but you were happy, Harry. And - I can let you go. And I need to go."
"Taylor you -" he sobs a little and then wraps his arms around me. "Please, don't do this."
"You've done it already," I reply. "Take care, okay?"
"No. Don't walk away, please," he pleads.
I slowly take his arms off me and step back a little. "I won't be the first one to do it, right?"
I take a glance at our little wall, our adventures, "Like I said, I had a fun ride. But time to go back home. . . wherever that is."
I start walking.
"This is your home, Tay. With me."
"No."
I touch the knob and twist it, pulling the door.
"Taylor, I'll only let you walk away if you tell me you don't love me anymore," Harry says.
I face him, smiling in a slightly vague way.
"That seems unfair seeing as I never got to tell you that when you walked out. . . I never got a chance, Harry." I rub my eyes, then wipe the tears.
Before I tell him the truth, I take a very deep breath.
"How can you tell a boy you love him, when he already has someone else?" I ask. I know he knows that I got that from him. "I still do. . . I just can't. Every second with you burns because I remember everything."
I let go of the door and go to him, I hug him tightly, reminding myself that it might just be the last time.
"I'll miss you," I whisper and then let go after some time. I walk back to the door. "Bye, Harry."
"Taylor, no."
I can still hear him repeat it as I walk out.
"Tay, no."
"No, Tay, please don't."
"Tay, don't."
"Tay. . ."