"How can I be reasonable? To me our love was everything and you were my whole life. It is not very pleasant to realize that to you it was only an episode."
― W. Somerset Maugham, The Painted Veil
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My hands were trembling by my side.
Out of nowhere, I was reminded of my first F in an exam and the way I was afraid to tell my parents that I failed. A thousand thoughts had been running through my mind, but I had known that there was no way I could get out of it.
That was exactly how I was feeling now, only far worse.
I had this nagging feeling in the pit of my stomach that things would go horribly wrong, and that I wouldn't be able to stop it even if I combined all my strength.
For a moment, I thought about turning around and just running away. If we didn't talk, nothing bad could happen.
Even though it all made sense in my mind, I knew better. I had to face the problem on hand, although I was still in the dark about it.
Closing my eyes and taking a deep breath, I told myself I could do it. Whatever it was, Harry would tell me and then we could just talk about it and find our way through it.
Yes, we would be alright. We had to be. We always were.
Neither of us had broken the silence yet. Harry was studying me in a way that sent chills down my spine, but I just couldn't decipher what he was thinking.
"Long time no see," I finally spoke up, not being able to stand the silence anymore.
"Yeah," Harry replied, then turned around and walked past me.
I stood in the clearing for a moment, gobsmacked, before I understood what he was doing. Gathering myself, I managed to carry my feet across the clearing to the bench Harry had already sat down on.
My eyes flickered over the bench for a moment, not sure what to do. If I sat down next to him, I would feel like I invaded his personal space, which was actually stupid considering our relationship. But if I sat away too far, I would distant myself.
Choosing some kind of in-between, I left a little space between us and awkwardly put my bag on my lap.
"How have you been?" My voice was barely above a whisper, the oppressive atmosphere weighting me down.
"Great," he answered. I wasn't sure if he was being sarcastic or actually serious.
I tried to read the expression in his eyes, but Harry turned his head to the side and only let me study the side of his head.
All I could tell was that his hair has grown a lot lately and was at a touchable length now. My fingers itched to trace it, but I knew I couldn't right now.
"Harry," I whispered and immediately cleared my thought. Louder this time, I asked him, "what's wrong?"
At lightning speed, his head snapped around again. Those beautiful, heart-shaped lips I loved to kiss all the time and used to watch shape words, opened to surely let a string of swear words out. Or something else that I wouldn't want to hear.
Somehow, he caught himself. "As if you didn't already know."
My mind blanked momentary, but soon enough, a slideshow of past memories flashed through it. All that I could really think about was my affair with Louis.
It didn't seem very likely that this was the reason though. After all, we had already talked about it and dropped the subject.
I played fair during our little meet-up with Amelie and hadn't uttered a mean word about her even when we were home again.
What was I even stressing about? Maybe he just wanted to tell me about his problems at work.
"Oh Gosh, are the kids okay?" I had no idea what made me say those words, but for a moment I panicked that something had happen to one of the girls or boys Harry loved so much.
I dismissed the thought immediately. If something actually had happened, Leo would have told his mother, who in return would have told Lisa's mother, who then would have told Lisa, which would have ended up in Lisa telling me.
Harry seemed quite dumbfounded, too. "The kids?"
"Never mind," I shook my head and waved him off. "Just negative thoughts." He expectantly looked at me, and I knew I should say some more. "Still stress at work?"
He sighed and ran his fingers through his hair, a clear sign that he was, in fact, stressed. "It's better now."
I wasn't some conversation expert, but I was pretty damn sure that it took two people who participated in it to actually have a conversation that led to something. So far, Harry wasn't playing his role.
I couldn't let it show, though, so I played it down. "Are you going to tell me or do you want me to guess?"
"Yeah, keep guessing." He abstractedly played with the metal rings on his fingers and avoided eye contact at all costs.
Was he afraid of throwing whatever was budging him overboard to make up with me?
"Harry," I said, stressing his name.
He didn't react, the only thing he did was spinning his ring around his finger all the time, again and again.
"Harry," I repeated, this time putting my hand on his thigh to finally get his attention.
"What, Zoey, what? What do you want to hear?" He snapped, his green eyes sending daggers my direction.
"I-I-" I began stuttering, at a loss for words.
"You want to know what's wrong?" His question was spoken with a tone of such a harshness and hatred that I physically had to slide a bit aside.
"I-" I was about to answer him, not really sure what I wanted to say, but he left me no choice.
Angrily standing up and staring down at me, he used the height to his advantage, making me feel even smaller than I already did. "You don't get it, do you?"
"Get what?" My voice broke at the last word and my fingernails aggressively pierced the skin on my forearm, transforming the mental pain into a physical one.
"For how long have we known each other now?" Harry asked, completely ignoring my question.
I swallowed, taken aback by the question. "7 months," I answered truthfully.
"How many fights did we have so far?" He turned away from me and started running in small circles in the clearing, staying close to the bench so he could hear my quiet voice.
"A few, not that many," I answered yet again, not sure what he was getting at.
"And how did those end?" He stopped pacing, his body now facing me again.
I tried to find a smart answer, but nothing but the truth came to my mind. "We always found a way to solve them."
He nodded, as if to confirm my statement. Without another word, he started pacing again, his hands hyperactively petting each other.
My eyes followed his every moment, the way I was sitting started to hurt my butt, but I didn't dare to move, afraid I would break the bubble we seemed to be in.
When he didn't ask any more questions, I took it upon myself to do so. "Harry, seriously, what's going on? Why have you been so ... distant all week? Why have you been avoiding me for two days?" I didn't have to name the incident on Wednesday, he knew what I was hinting at.
"You know, I read this book not too long ago," Harry responded, yet again ignoring my question.
I groaned, not really wanting to discuss literature with him right now.
He kept on ignoring me and continued speaking as if I hadn't just made a sound. "And it said: "Memory's a fickle thing. And sometimes we're doomed to repeat our mistakes, especially the one's we've forgotten all too quickly." Hmm."
I had no idea if I should be impressed that he remembered a quote of a book without faltering for a moment when I couldn't even remember what I had for dinner last night, but I still didn't have a clue what I had done wrong.
By now, I knew for certain that it was me. I was the problem, but the way he spoke in riddles didn't help me realize what exactly it was that bothered him so much that he treated me like a stranger.
"Memory's a fickle thing?" I repeated it like a question.
Harry kept pacing, his actions driving me crazy by now. It was kind of obvious that he wanted me to think about the quote.
What memory was he talking about? What was on his mind that wasn't on mine? And what was the mistake he named?
What mistake was I repeating?
So many questions, but the answers were only inside Harry's pretty head, hidden from my sight. If he continued his little game, it would take ages for me to finally understand it all – if I ever could, that is.
"Things would be easier if you just named the issue and let me have a little insight," I carefully advised.
"Things would be easier if you just stopped pretending you have no clue what's going on," he shot back, imitating my voice.
I sucked in a harsh breath, trying to fight off the anger that was arising within me. But it was too late. "How dare you speak to me like that?" I yelled, furiously jumping on my feet.
He whipped around so quickly that I nearly fell back on the bench again when I took a step back.
Although his eyes had been cold and hard the whole time, I could now see a number of emotions flash through them: hurt, pain, anger, bewilderment and finally hatred.
Those eyes that used to make me feel loved and beautiful were now looking at me as if I had just killed an innocent.
My blood ran cold, my mind wasn't quick enough to catch up with this sudden change. I could take his silent treatment, I could even take him yelling at me, but I couldn't take the obvious hate in his eyes.
"Harry," I whispered for what felt like the hundredth time tonight, my lips dry and barely able to form the word. His name tasted sour on my tongue, as if it were poisoned.
Something inside of him changed. My breathing returned to normal as soon as his eyes softened, the loving and caring Harry finally fighting his way through the new, transformed one.
"Zoey," he whispered back, equally as silent.
He took two careful steps forward until he was standing right in front of me. My knees nearly gave away when I felt the familiar touch of his forehead against mine, and I happily relished the feeling.
His lips were only a feathery touch away, ghosting over mine but yet not connecting us.
I was careful to stay still, afraid any movement would break him out of this trance he had suddenly fallen under. Even though my heart was aching to close the little distance between our lips, my mind was telling me to not change a thing at this exact moment.
My hands were uncontrollably shaking by my sides, only stopping when Harry gently took them into his, intertwining our fingers like they were used to.
I breathed out in relief, feeling like the worst part was already behind us.
Surely, certainly, he would talk to me now. Knowing Harry, he would apologize and somehow try to make up for his attitude, but he didn't have to. I would accept his apology before it even left his kissable lips.
I just wanted things to go back to how they used to be, not knowing where they went wrong.
We were bigger than that, stronger than whatever force tried to tear us apart. Together, we could do this.
There was no way I would let him go after everything life had thrown at me. I had found the right one, the one I wanted to spend the rest of my life with, and I was happy.
For once and for all, I was truly, madly happy.
"Harry," I pleaded, my voice strained yet slightly exasperated. I needed him to finally give in and talk to me.
I was disappointed when he pulled his head away from mine, replacing the warm feeling of his forehead with the slightly colder wind blowing around us. The temperature has dropped a little, but it was still nice enough.
My gaze dropped down to where our hands were intertwined, wanting to enchase the picture into my brain forever. There was a sweet innocence about this moment, but yet again I felt like something mayor was coming up.
"Zoey, I really don't know what to do," Harry finally admitted.
I lifted my eyes to meet his intense gaze, the piercing green color taking my breath away once again. His eyes weren't necessarily cold, but they were unreadable again, like he was fighting some inner battle and didn't want to let me know.
"Talk to me," I suggested, my heart beating impetuously in my chest.
This was the moment that would decide our next moves, I could feel it deep down in my bones. To say I was scared was an understatement. I was frightened senselessly.
Harry dropped my hands as if they were on fire and he couldn't bear the heat anymore. "How am I supposed to talk to you when you won't even talk to me?"
"What's that supposed to me?" I asked, confusion lacing my voice. After all, he kept me in the dark and wouldn't say what the hell was going on. I was more than willing to keep this conversation going.
"What's the cornerstone of a relationship?" The question caught me off guard, but I didn't have to think about it.
"Trust." My voice was steady and firm, preparing for whatever was to come.
"Do you trust me?" He asked, his eyes burning into mine.
I nodded my head, not trusting my voice right now, but trusting him with every fiber of my body.
"Things went incredibly wrong." Harry finally looked away, and for the first time since he had kept eye contact, I felt like I could breathe again.
Things went incredibly wrong. I was the one who had absolutely no idea what was going on, being threatened like nothing those past few days.
Maybe I wasn't the problem? Maybe Harry had done something wrong?
I swallowed twice, my mouth feeling dry out of nowhere. I wetted my lips, trying to regain my composure.
There was no way he had done what I thought he had. He would never do this to me, I was sure of that. I trusted him.
"Harry, no matter what happened, we can talk about it. You can explain it and I promise I'll listen. Just talk to me," I pleaded, my voice coming out stronger than I felt.
"Why should I do the explaining?" He asked, facing me once again. His right hand went up to push his hair back and I could see the fast pace at which his chest went up and down.
"When you said things went incredibly wrong, I assumed that..." I trailed off, suddenly feeling stupid. Of course he hadn't cheated on me. How could I even assume such an extreme betrayal of confidence?
"That what, Zoey?" He put his thumbs into the loops of his front pocket where I could see his phone peeking out.
"That... That you, eh," I mumbled, not wanting to really say it anymore. "Never mind, it was stupid."
His eyes darkened and I could see the realization leaking in. "Oh, wow. You think I'm the one who'd do that when I already found everything I need in my life?"
My heart skipped a beat, the words momentary warming my insides. But only for a few seconds, before anger replaced the warmth. "Why won't you talk to me?" I half-screamed, my voice far louder than intended.
"I don't know what to say!" He finally broke, yelling back at me.
I took a step back and fell down on the bench, my legs no longer able to support my weight. "It's easy, you know?" My words didn't carry my previous strength.
"Things are never easy, are they?" Harry's tone had also softened, but he was still keeping his distance.
"Just tell me what I did wrong," I pleaded, my eyes fixed on my shoes. I didn't want to see him and give in.
"Are you telling me you don't know?" There was a hint of sarcasm in his voice that made me cringe.
So I was the problem after all. I replayed the last week, trying to find a moment when I said something wrong or where I acted differently, but nothing stuck out. "You said you had problems at work."
"I lied," he admitted casually, as if it was no big deal.
"You lied," I repeated, my voice lacking any emotion.
"Guess you aren't the only one who's doing that, huh?"
This time, I finally looked up. Harry was studying me carefully, clearly looking for any sign that would betray whatever he was mentally accusing me of.
"When did I lie?" I whispered, feeling drained and tired all over again.
"Don't play dumb, Zoey."
I shook my head, trying to see through this mess right now. It felt like there was an idea forming in the back of my head that tried to push its way to the front, but my feelings were in the way, not leaving space for any reasonable thought.
"You're playing mean," I said, my voice stronger again. I wouldn't let him break me down without telling me what I supposedly did wrong, because I was certain that there was nothing I had actually done to have him get this mad at me.
"That makes two of us, baby." The mock use of 'baby' sent a dagger right through my heart, and my breath caught in my lungs.
"Harry, we can talk about everything, you know that. We have made it through worse, because we talked," I put extra emphasis on the last word, trying to make him see that he only had to name the issue.
"Talking won't solve this." His eyes were ice cold and so unlike the Harry I used to know and love. This man in front of me wasn't him.
I felt like we were as close as stranger, but I wasn't ready to give up without a good explanation. "I can ensure you that I have done nothing that deserves this attitude now," I tried to reason.
He chuckled humorlessly. "Then you can rethink it."
I tried to even my breathing, the ache that had been building in my lungs disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. Time was what I needed, and maybe a good advice from my best friend.
"But," Harry continued talking, ignoring my inner battle, "without me."
My mouth popped open, unsure if I had heard him right. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"That, my dear Zoey, means," his eyes showed a hatred so strong that it was impossible to remember the times he had hold me like I was the only woman in his life and told me that he loved me endlessly, "that there is no way to fix this."
"Are you-" the words stocked in my throat, "are you breaking up with me?" A fear so cold that it froze my body overcame me.
All I could hear was my own heavy breathing, the blood pulsating in my ears and Harry's harsh words being thrown at me to hurt me more than they already had. But I was numb, I couldn't feel.
I took my time to let my eyes wander over Harry again, starting from the way his worn-out boots framed his large feet, going up to the way his skinny jeans hugged his legs and ended up with a belt around his waist, the way his t-shirt fitted him perfectly and finally reaching his face that I could stare at for hours.
He was so painfully beautiful that I knew I was the luckiest woman in this world to have him by my side.
I was waiting for the moment I would wake up drenched in sweat in my overheated bed, with Harry's arms and legs sprayed around me, only to look at his peaceful sleeping face and see that it all was just a bad dream.
But the way the wind was pushing my hair over my shoulder and making me feel cold despite the warm temperature told me that this was reality and that I was really facing my worst nightmare. One that I thought would never come true.
Harry stepped closer again, his eyes having lost the hateful look. They were unreadable once more, hiding a number of emotions I knew he had to feel.
I sucked in a harsh breath when his lips landed on my forehead. Instead of feeling comforted and loved like the gesture usually made me feel, I had the urge to break down crying.
This wasn't a kiss that expressed his love and comfort. No, this was his goodbye.
"Yes, Zoey, I am. You can't undo the past, and I don't want you in my future anymore."
Those words took away every single emotion in my body and every little bit of warmth that was left. There was nothing left but a numbness that stopped me from reacting in any way.
Unable to move or speak, I watched the only man I had ever truly loved turn around and walk away.
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heeey, did you know that English is not my first language?