He Loves Me...He Loves You Not Page 8

  His smell lingers on the pillow case and creeps up my nostrils. Tide and True Religion. I want to bathe in it, wash my body with it so I’ll never forget it. The enticing scent blankets my entire body and I want to stay wrapped up in it forever.

  Hysteria comes out through screams and I grab the pillow to my right and smother my face with it, screaming louder. Even though I’m fully clothed, I feel naked. Lying bare on a bed waiting for my lover to come to me. This is the real me.

  When I go to set the pillow down a rectangular object catches my eye. The crumpled up object lies face down the mattress and I pick it up, holding it up in front of my face.

  “Oh,” I gasp and throw my hand over my mouth.

  The crumpled up object is a photo of me and Henry. I close my eyes and tears spill onto my cheeks.

  I’m smiling, beaming, so elated and happy that my face looks flawless. The sunlight hits my cheeks and I look like I’m glowing. Henry is kissing my forehead. His lips curled up into a half-smirk. For a moment I forget my depression. I forget about everything. I’m lost in that moment.

  Then a thought hits me and I frown. I’m still a secret. I might be the last thing he thinks about before going to bed at night, but I’m still hidden—banished to an eternity of darkness underneath his pillow. I’m not special enough to earn a place on his nightstand and it kills me.

  I’ve been told that it takes a long time for a broken heart to mend, but as I lie there in my loves bed, I wonder just how long it will take me. When I’m away from Henry he haunts me. With his voice. Surreal hallucinations. No matter where I am or what I’m doing, he’s there. A constant reminder.

  How long will my obsession last? How long will I feel so consumed by my love for him that I can’t think of anything else? I’ve done the best I can to stay away from him. I’ve done the best I can to not answer his messages or calls. But long will it be before I crack? I’m certain it won’t be long at all.

  At night, I tremble alone in my bed. I’ve bitten my fingernails down to the stubs. I’ve had dreams about him every night since we’ve been apart and even though it’s only been days it feels like we’ve been separated for years.

  There are times where I tell myself I hate him and then I think of something Mom told me when she and Dad split up. “Love and hate are such passionate emotions. They are so powerful that they blur the lines between one another. Even though you tell yourself you hate a person if you’ve ever loved them at all, that’s a lie.” She’d stared off blankly when she told me the next part. “I stand by this when I say it, together or not, it is impossible to hate someone you love.”

  Mom is a wise woman. Love drives people to despair and distorts the lines between fantasy and reality. Love can knock the wind out of your lungs. The emotion can lock you down and make you feel imprisoned—shackled to a wall. There is no escape. Once love takes hold, it will always be inside of you—always apart of you.

  Love is a sickness. It is a disease. One minute you feel like you’re flying. You’re a bird soaring through miles of endless blues sky. Nothing can pull you down. Nothing can put out the sizzle burning inside of you. Yet at the same time, love can make you nauseous, and grief stricken. The inside of your stomach churns. You’re dry heaving. So insane and delusional that love might leave that you start rocking back and forth like a maniac in a mental institution.

  I’m almost there.

  Is it worth it? The ups and down of the emotional rollercoaster called love? Is it worth a person losing their mind, having a broken heart, and constantly questioning their judgments or feelings?

  I glance at the picture of Henry and me one more time before setting it face down on the mattress and covering it up with the pillow and I know the answer to the question.

  Absolutely.

  I love Henry and I don’t care anymore. I don’t care if I seem stupid for wanting to be with him under the circumstances we’re in. I don’t care if people think I’m a moron. My love for him is the Marianas Trench, vast, deep and wide—never ending.

  I need to tell him. I need to tell him that nothing or no one can put out the fire for him burning inside of me. Not Callie. Not anybody. It will blaze bright and vibrant forever and ever. Until the day I meet my maker. Until the day I die.

  As I sit up, on the edge of the bed pushing myself to my feet a sudden urge of relief sweeps over me and I know that I’m making the right decision. And I squash the tiniest bit of doubt that was left in my mind.

  But as soon as I stand. I hear them. Footsteps.

  Two pairs of footsteps. I freeze. There are two people heading toward the bedroom. Muffled voices throb in my ears. They are outside the door. My eyes center on the brass door knob as it starts to turn. Almost like the circular handle is an orb suspended in front of me, glowing in the dark.

  “Henry,” Callie snaps.

  “What?” Henry bites back. He’s angry. It appears I’m about to be in the middle of a heated argument and I’m convinced if Callie sees me, I’ll only make things worse for him.

  “Oh no,” I gasp and glance around the room. I need to hide.

  The knob turns more and glows. Turns and glows.

  I panic and spin around in a blur. Where can I go? Where can I hide? I stare at the closet. I dash over and fling the door open. No!

  The small cubby hole is way too small and way too messy. I scramble over to the french doors that lead to the balcony. I’m fumbling with the lock. My hands are sweating and they keep slipping at I try to turn it.

  My stomach is in my throat. Oh God. The knob on the door turns all the way and the door creaks open slightly. I look at the skirting on Henry’s queen sized bed. Black satin fills my gaze and right before Henry steps through the door, I dive underneath the bed.

  Chapter 13

  “A desire arises in the mind. It is satisfied immediately another comes. In the interval which separates two desires a perfect calm reigns in the mind. It is at this moment freed from all thought, love or hate. Complete peace equally reigns between two mental waves.”~ Swami Sivanada ~

  My heart hammers, pounding against my ribcage. The thumping is so loud I swear Henry will be able to hear it. My breaths leave my lungs short and raspy. I swallow hard and cover my mouth. The springs on the mattress squeak as someone sits down and the mattress dips down over my head.

  Henry lets out a frustrated sigh and my limbs tingle. I almost pray that he’ll start talking to himself just so I can listen to his melodic voice.

  His fingers brush against something and I listen as the sound of crinkling paper echoes through the quiet room. “I miss you.” His voice is soft—hushed and I know he’s looking at our picture.

  Warmth fills me up and my eyes water. “I miss you, too,” I say silently.

  Then another pair of footsteps. “I missed you too, gorgeous,” she coos.

  Callie. Ugh. The sound of her voice makes me cringe, but at the same time a smile curls on my lips and excitement flows through me. He wasn’t talking about her. He was talking about me.

  Callie’s lips smack against his cheek and I wince. Oh man. Please don’t do this right now.

  “Callie,” Henry groans. “I just want to be alone right now. Can you like go downstairs or something?”

  More weight shifts on the bed and I see that someone is crawling across it. I blanch and turn away. “Oh you know, you want to,” Callie purrs. “You know I’m irresistible.”

  I sneak a peek and I’ve now determined who is who. Callie is on my left. Henry on the right.

  Henry moves and I assume he’s pushing her away. “I’m not in the mood, Callie. Leave me alone.” His voice is more adamant.

  Callie’s weight on the bed shifts. “Henry,” she whispers. Her lips make a smacking noise again.

  Henry stands and my head turns. I catch a glimpse of the bottom of his feet from the tiny sliver of light shining from the bed skirting. “I said, no damn it!” he snaps.

  Callie’s weight shifts again. “What is with you?” she ret
orts. “You’ve been acting weird all summer! You rarely touch or kiss me anymore and you always seem distracted! Am I not good enough for you anymore? Because if that’s the case, I can name at least ten guys that would kill to have me!”

  I feel the bile rising up in my throat and I gag. It’s hard for me to imagine the Henry I know wanting to be with someone who is so self-absorbed.

  He lets out a strained sigh. “You know I’m going through a lot right now. It would be nice if you’d be more sympathetic.”

  Callie stands and her hot pink stiletto’s clink against the floor. “Does this have to do with your Mom?” Callie’s tone is somber.

  Henry doesn’t answer and I figure that Callie is right.

  But then my mouth hangs open and I scrunch my eyebrows together. What’s going on with his mother? He rarely mentions his parents to me and I’d never been to his house when they were home.

  “How is she doing?” Callie asks. “You know? With the treatments?”

  “As well as expected I guess.” He speaks with a detached tone, but there’s more emotion in his voice than anything I’ve ever heard out of him. He’s in pain, lost and conflicted.

  Part of me wants to comfort him. Part of me wants to soothe him with loving words and tell him that everything will be okay. I want to tell him that no matter what he’s going through. I’ll be there. I’ll help him through it. We’ll get through it together.

  But I’m consumed with an uneasy feeling because he didn’t tell me. He never told me there was something wrong with his mother. He told her, but not me. And it hurts. I’m hurt because he knows he can tell me anything and he knows that I’d drop whatever I was doing and come to his aid because that’s how much he meant to me. Why didn’t he tell me?

  “She asks about you,” he tells Callie. “She wants to know if you’re going to visit her soon.”

  Callie sighs. “Of course.” She’s silent for a second. “It’s just hard for me to see to her like that. You know. Hooked up to all those machines and everything.”

  “You?” There’s a bit of hostility in his voice. “She’s my Mom and she’s dying of cancer. And you want to talk about how hard it is for you?”

  I gasp. Tears brim in my eyes then I quickly throw my hand over my mouth. I hurt for him. And just like the way I ache for his touch, I ache for him because of the way he must be feeling.

  “What was that?” Callie snaps.

  “Probably, nothing.”

  “I heard something.”

  “Callie!” he shouts. “I’m trying to talk to you about my Mom and all you can think about are the noises you think you hear!”

  “Look, Henry,” she says, kind of thoughtfully, but I detect a hint of snarkiness in her tone. “I feel bad, but you know how I feel about hospitals and people dying. It’s just something I’d rather not talk about or see.”

  I’m so furious that I’m grinding my teeth. Rage pounds through me like a jackhammer to the pavement. If Callie doesn’t leave this bedroom soon, I’m going to crawl out from under this bed and punch her in the face.

  How can you love someone and see them hurting like that and not feel like every part of you is splitting in half? I’m in agony and I didn’t even know. I feel like someone has just given me the bad news about one of my own family members. I want to bury myself in a hole of depression grief and misery for him because when you love someone if they hurt, you hurt.

  “Just leave me alone, okay Callie?”

  The sound of her heels echo against the floor. “Should I tell everyone to leave?”

  “No,” he says softly. “But you should.”

  “What?”

  “Leave.”

  “But, Henry I—I”

  “Just leave!” he screams. His voice is high and shrill and I’m certain the whole bedroom is shaking.

  Callie slams the door and I listen as the sound of her footsteps fade away. Me, I’m torn. I don’t know if I should make my presence known or remain hidden. Part of me is afraid. Clearly he’s okay with Callie being privy to the information about his mother, but he hasn’t told me. So what if he’s not ready to tell me?

  Then the sounds of his sobs cut into my thoughts. The bed shakes from him trembling and my vision blurs from the wetness forming in my eyes. I can’t even imagine what he’s going through. I thought it was the end of the world when my parents separated and that is nothing compared to watching one of them die.

  I wipe my eyes with the palms of my hands. I’m coming out. I’m going to hold him. I’m going to be that crutch he needs right now. I’m going to comfort him. I’ll let him cry until there isn’t a tear left in his entire body.

  His cries cut out and I hear him dialing a phone number. The ringer on my phone squeals out and Henry hops up from the bed. His voice is thick, like it’s clogged with a coating of molasses. “Riley. Are you in here?”

  I reach out from under the bed and wrap my hand around his ankle. He jumps, startled and I clear my throat. “Yes. I am.”

  Chapter 14

  “It is the passion that is in a kiss that gives to it its sweetness; it is the affection in a kiss that sanctifies it.”~ Christian Nevell Bovee ~

  Henry grabs me by the wrists and pulls me out from underneath the bed. “Were you there the whole…?”

  I finish his sentence. “The whole time, yes.”

  He looks away from me. “So you heard everything then?”

  “Yes.”

  I can tell he’s a jigsaw puzzle. A million pieces scattered sporadically. Looking away only so he can put himself back together.

  “Everything?” he repeats, whispering.

  “Yes, everything,” I assure him.

  I’m observing him. Watching his profile as the muscles in his jaw flex. I take his face in my hands and he’s still not looking at me. For a second I close my eyes. I’m tearing up and what I really to do right now is be strong for him. “Henry, look at me,” I demand.

  He doesn’t meet my gaze.

  “Henry! Look at me!”

  He lifts his eyes slowly. The pale blue irises are swimming with tears. “Why didn’t you tell me?” I place my forehead against his and sigh. “You know I would have been there for you.”

  His voice cracks. “You had your own problems going on with your parents and everything.”

  “That doesn’t matter. You know I love you. You know I would have been there for you in a second. What’s happening with my family is minor compared to this.” I hesitate for a moment and breathe. “What stage of cancer does she have and what kind?”

  “Pancreatic. Stage four.”

  I remember learning that pancreatic cancer is one of the worst kinds of cancer to have. “When did you find out?”

  He lifts his head, a serene look on his face. “Three years ago. We were optimistic at first and so were the doctors. They thought they’d caught it early enough. After her first round of chemo, she was doing so well. She went into remission. Then about eighteen months ago, it came back and it’s been a downward spiral ever since. She just keeps getting worse. In and out of the hospital. I’m at the point where I don’t know what to do anymore. My dad tells me that I shouldn’t stop living. That my mom wouldn’t want me to be living next to her bed at all times.” A painful smile forms on his lips. “If she were here she’d tell me that she’s fine. Not to worry about her. To try and live.”