"It's like rain, on your wedding day. It's a free ride, when you've already paid"
"Do you think you've gotten it all up?" Harry asks, rubbing my back for emotional support as I sit holding the bowl of the toilet, post vomit.
"I think so," I sigh, spitting into the bowl in an attempt to rid the disgusting acidic taste from my mouth.
Harry passes me some toilet paper to wipe my mouth, and I do so, as well as blow my nose, the vomit somehow contaminating my nasal passage throughout the ordeal. He helps me back up, and I immediately walk towards the basin to wash my hands and face. My reflection staring back at me is a greyish, sickly colour, and it is there that I spot the chunks of something I've thrown back up attached in my hair.
"Yeah, I might need another shower," I declare, removing my robe.
Harry's eyes dart immediately to the floor, careful not to glance at me undressed. It seems rather absurd considering he's seen me nude countless times, and now he's unable to even look in my general direction.
"Can you please get a fresh towel for me?" I ask him, noticing my other towel was used to kneel on while I was clutching the toilet bowl for dear life.
He exits the room, while I run the water, ensuring it's nice and hot before I enter. The steam is a signal for me to enter, and as I let the water wash over my body from the generously sized shower head, my mind runs off to another place.
"This is the one," I decided right there in the store, looking at the very shower head that I'm standing underneath right now. "Or do you think it might be too big?"
Smiling, his eyes alight with absolute delight, he walked behind me, embracing me from behind, his head resting on my shoulder to better kiss into my neck.
"You've never expressed an issue about anything being too big before... Why start now?"
"Harry, we're in a store!" I giggled, looking around to see if we were being observed by anyone else there.
"I guess it could be put to good use if ever I wanted to jump in with you of a morning."
Harry clears his throat to get my attention, brandishing a towel in his hands with his eyes glued to the floor.
"Here you go," he announces, showing me where the towel is, and he's almost out the door before I grab his attention.
"Wait," I call out to him, stopping him in his tracks.
My heart almost catches in my throat, and almost like a deer in headlights, I'm unable to do or say anything.
"Do you need anything else?" he enquires, his back still faced to me.
The room remains quiet besides the sound of the running water echoing throughout the tiled bathroom, and I get the courage to speak.
"You," I say aloud, my voice weak. "I need you."
For the first time, he meets my gaze, and for a split second I believe he will stay, but he turns on his feet, exiting the room.
"Let me know if you need anything else," he expresses, his voice low and monotonous.
Thanks for that Harry. Because at the end of the day, actions speak so much louder than words.
I can't help but notice the way his stance changes when I enter the room, fully dressed, hair clean and damp from my shower.
"What've you got on for the day then?" Harry asks quite mechanically, any form of life absent from his voice.
"I have a meeting with a client here at the house," I inform him. "I hope that's okay with you."
It's actually been quite nice to have the additional space here at Harry's. I'm fortunate enough to have a room for my styling, as well as a great office space where I can focus on buying.
"You think you'll be okay to go ahead with it given that you've been sick all morning?" he confirms, looking quite skeptical.
"Yeah, it'll be fine, just a bit of morning sickness," I assure him, grabbing some juice out of the refrigerator to check its use by date more closely. "What's the date today?"
"The eleventh I think," Harry replies, checking his phone to be sure. "Yeah, the eleventh."
"Ah, this says the ninth on it. Surely it should be right?" I shrug, attempting to take a sip.
"No!" Harry blurts, preventing me from drinking the slightly out of date juice. "Once it's out of date, it's pretty much over. Best to chuck it out."
Taking it from my hands, I say nothing as he pours the remaining contents of the carton down the drain, as I wonder if he's referring to juice, or something much more significant.
"So are you seeing just the one client today, or?" he enquires, making small talk with me. I can see him struggling, and I wonder what's going on in that mind of his.
"I think so," I explain, before an idea pops into my head. "It's really funny how I met her. You know Celia. Celia Wright?" I ask quite casually, whilst closely inspecting his body language.
He nods, though doesn't appear overly perturbed by the mention of her name.
"Off topic, but she has this really attractive new boyfriend I've heard," I add, putting inflection on the word boyfriend, though his body language remains positively ordinary, waiting to hear the point of my story.
"Anyways, a friend of hers has asked me to style her for an upcoming event," I inform him as I spin around, and as I do so, the sound of his phone falling on the hardwood floors causes me to jump.
Picking it up, he looks quite flustered by the new information.
"On second thought, I don't know if I feel particularly comfortable with people dropping by the house," he states nervously, as though it were a new rule that I have to abide by. "Have you given her my address? Who is this girl?"
"Then what's the point of the office? Why would you allow me to set up a workspace that I can't even use?" I state, clearly annoyed by his latest decree.
"I can get you a space nearby. There's a spot on Kings Road that's available for lease, I'm sure we can get it up and running in no time."
"Harry, that isn't the point. I'm pregnant. You assured me that I could work from home," I argue.
"Just tell me who it is," he insists, his breathing ragged.
"Who fûcking cares!" I exclaim.
"I changed my mind. This is my house too, and I don't feel comfortable with people coming in who I don't know from a bar of soap!"
"Jane Myers!" I blurt. "Her name is Jane Myers, though why does it matter so much to you?" I yell, feeling as though I'm at my wits end.
His breathing slows, and I notice his attempts at calming himself down. This is just so typical of him, but absolutely unfair to have to deal with, especially this close to my appointment time. I can't cancel on the girl with an hour's notice.
I feel like I'm on the cusp of putting all of the pieces together, and yet I'm so far off. Celia appears to be connected in some way, but yet at the same time, so far off.
"I just don't know anymore," he admits, voice breaking.
"You don't know what?" I yell back, frustrated that I can't get a clear answer from him about anything.
"This!" he argues back. "I'm just so exhausted from all of this. Me, you..." he adds, though trails off, leaving his sentence unfinished.
"What? And the baby?" I shout, feeling the colour rise to my cheeks. This is exactly what I wanted to protect my baby from.
"No Essie, of course not!" he expresses passionately, emotion rising in his voice. "I said I'm going to be there for the baby, and I meant it!"
"You're just finished with us then?" I state, annoyance in my tone.
He doesn't say anything, but shakes his head.
"I don't know what I want," he sighs, and I almost feel that sense of him crumbling inside. Looking up, he meets my gaze properly for what feels like the first time this morning. "I know you've been through a lot, but so have I. I've given up so much for this. Everything. I just need time to think."
He needs time to think? Think about what? This suddenly feels as though I'm transported back in time to any one of our past arguments because they all seem to be on his terms and about what he needs. When will it ever be about what I need?
It isn't just Harry who's given up everything, but has he ever once considered what I've had to sacrifice in order to be here? I gave up my one true chance at happiness, to be in this mess.
All for what?
Suddenly, I have my very own Cady Heron moment, what she best describes as 'word vomit'. I know it's going to get me in more trouble than it's probably worth, but once it enters my mind, there's no stopping me.
"Is this about the £10,000 bank transfer to an M. Wilde?" I spout, watching his reaction closely as the colour drains from his face.
"You opened my mail?" he spits, his stance more angry now than anything. "What the fùck is wrong with you?"
Not my finest moment, I'll admit, though he's hiding this from me. Guys accuse girls of being psychotic all the time, but they'll never admit that what the girl is accusing them of is usually true.
"That letter was sealed when I opened it," he expresses, wondering how it is that I came to find out those details. It doesn't seem the right time to tell him that I used steam from the kettle, and then expertly resealed the letter once I was finished reading it.
I couldn't help myself, especially with how secretive he's being as of late. Locked doors, lump sums made to media sources, and now personal accounts. How much longer do I have to endure this kind of madness?
"You still haven't explained who this M. Wilde is!" I announce, hoping my statement diverts the attention away from me, and back onto Harry. I'm sick of feeling like I'm on trial for something when I've been completely transparent. "Is that your ex? Paying her to keep quiet I suppose!"
"That is none of your business!" he shouts back defensively, absolutely fuming. He paces the room while I watch on in silence, unable to move or speak.
"What have I done?" he groans, bending down with his face in his hands, seeming to direct the question to no one in particular.
"Harry, can we just talk about this? Whatever these payments are for, you should be able to tell me," I insist, lowering my tone.
Getting up, he takes a few deep breaths to calm himself down, though it doesn't seem to have worked. Grabbing his keys, he walks towards the front door without so much as a glance back at me.
The sound of the door slamming is enough to rattle me throughout, and I, myself feel as though this entire move was just a huge mistake. It's quite evident that he and I aren't right for one another. The only thing we have in common anymore is this baby that's growing inside of me. Without that, I'd be nothing to him. He'd still be screening my calls had it not been for his sister who pushed him to finally reach out to me.
Ironically, I find myself on the floor asking the same question Harry had only asked moments before - what have I done?
The sound of my phone vibrating beside me causes me to stir, and when I finally see Harry's name on the screen, hours after I texted him, asking where he was, I open the message screen.
Sighing out of frustration and his insistency to be as un-descriptive as he can possible be, I reply.
He replies almost instantly, though his answer doesn't bring me any closer to knowing where he is or when he intends on returning.
Well done Harry, way to go at putting my mind at ease. Is this the kind of environment I want to bring my baby into? With an erratic father, and a mother who stands by someone not out of love, but convenience?
Today has been a total flop, and I feel as though it's been a massive waste. It's hard not to question if me being here is the right thing to do, considering how detrimental its proving to be. Not just for my emotional state, but my relationship with clients. Where can I find myself a man who will show me the love and respect that I so sorely need?
Oh wait. You found one, and then you ran away.
I don't know if there will ever be a time where my mind doesn't drift to thoughts of better times with Alfie. I've noticed that there are a number of things that can trigger these thoughts, right from an acoustic song played on the radio, the cosy feeling I get when I'm rugged up beside the fire, to even driving by the spot where we first kissed.
Scrolling through my phone without any kind of plan, I reach his name being that it's one of the first numbers stored in my phone due to his alphabetical advantage; and I click his name.
My entire body clenches with a mixture of anticipation and fear, completely uncertain of what I'm even going to say. In a cruel twist, I'm denied of that right, and instead of ringing through, it rings once before going straight to his voicemail.
Taking a deep breath in and out, I dial again, my hands noticeably shaking as I try once again. Just like the time before, it rings for a split second before I'm sent to his voicemail.
He's blocked me.
Surely not? Entering the Facebook app, I begin typing 'A-L-F' and the only suggestions are names of people I don't recognise, none of which are him.
So just like that, in a cruel twist of fate, he's removed me from his life, just as I have done to him. I can't say that I blame him, nor do I feel anger and resentment towards him, but I've truly underestimated how terrible it feels to be isolated from the one person that brings you happiness.
I guess it's what I deserve.
Author's Note: How do you feel about this one? The relationship between Harry and Ebony seems to be a little more tense, and she's feeling quite isolated and alone. Harry is acting secretively and isn't really being a great partner, which means she doesn't really have a person to turn to.
Dedication this chapter goes to... onlyangels for her comment below! I am so touched that you're enjoying the story so much! Please ensure that you vote and comment if you are! I love hearing your feedback!
Special mention also goes to Irwinsbuttercup for her hilarious comment below. It made me actually laugh out loud.
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10/09/17 | 1.23M Views |
The lyrical quote at the beginning of the chapter originated from the song 'Ironic' by Alanis Morissette