Pocket Pickers #projectwomanup

Mistakes Are Made to make your Life Worse

The rain outside didn't make the anxiety any better. In fact, the harder the rain fell, the more I felt like burying myself in a trashcan.

With a sigh, I opened the taxi and started to jog to find a dry place. I didn't look back to check if the driver was looking at me, I just focused on the door in front of me.

Henry's house wasn't grand. It did have a cozy presence, with its woody texture and wide chimney branching off at the side. (Not to mention the victorian steep of the lanterns and the grandma sofas on his porch). I stopped at the door, and felt the anxiety come back in tsunami waves.

I don't know what I was doing here. It had been two days since the dreaded wedding, since the terrible conversation with Pierre, and I decided in the spur of the moment that I had to sort out the drift between Henry and me. What he felt during the wedding was not a quick feeling, it was something he was obviously harboring for a long time.

I was just too stupid to notice.

"You can do this," I muttered, before rapping my knuckles on the door. I cringed immediately afterwards (of course) when I noticed the shining doorbell at the side, but I quickly turned around. My heart quickened when I heard the knob turning, and I frantically fumbled with my hands, not knowing where to place them.

The door opened with a tiny squeak, like the whimper of a mouse. I tilted my head, surprised to see no one there. But before I could ask, Henry walked out from behind the door, and froze when his gaze landed on me.

"Remi?"

Wow, he looked like crap. Guilt gnawed at me like hungry vultures, as I took in his dark eyes and sickly palor. He obviously needed more time to recover, physically and mentally.

"Hey," I said meekly, giving a pathetic wave. He scrunched his eyebrows, looking confused, almost like he was thinking that he was imagining me.

"What... Are you doing here?"

This was a horrible idea. As I saw the embarrasment and panic take over Henry's features, I knew that coming here was a mistake. What was I thinking? The wounds were to fresh; I might as well have brought a bag of salt, because all I was doing was pressing on a wound that didn't finish healing.

Too late, I thought angrily to myself, mentally slapping my cheeks.

"I came..," I wanted to die. To apologize? For what? For not realizing your obvious feelings for me? For being a terrible friend? For ditching you? For keeping secrets? I had too many apologies, I didn't know where to start. I left my statement blank, unable to think of anything.

Henry analyzed me, and I mentally patted his back for looking calmer than me. "Do you want to come in?"

Red lights flashed. Abort, abort! I casually smiled, but I think it looked like a menacing grimace. Henry paled a little. "Sure!" I cheered. This was going completely wrong. My carefully crafted plan (which I devised in five minutes) was falling apart before I could even use it.

Henry must have been thinking the same thing, because he faltered before moving to the side to give me space to enter.

I walked in, but the usually comfortable aura felt like a slap in the face. What usually made me feel calm and at ease suddenly made me sieze up with uncontrollable fear.

Nothing was ever going to be the same. If I were to ever walk into Henry's house, we would never do the things that used to come so easily to us before. I glanced at him. He didn't meet my gaze.

"So, how are you?" I strained out, feeling like a complete doofus. Henry winced.

"I'm doing as good as I can," he nonchalantly replied after a tense second. I nodded. All I wanted to do was throw myself in the fireplace and hope for a quick death.

I had to bring up the wedding soon, or we would both jump out of the window trying to get away from one another.

"Yeah, um, about what happened-" I said quickly, trying to breach the topic gently. I tried to ignore my very un-smooth transition. I was hoping that bringing up the wedding would be like a prick to the skin, a slight sting before residing into nothing.

Hoping.

This time Henry visibly winced, withdrawing from me. I tried to keep the hurt out of my face, I expected this to happen.

"Could we not... Talk about that?" He pleaded softly, dancing around the subject. I gulped.

"Actually," inhale, "I don't think we can."

Henry frowned, his eyes melting into hard, stony rock.

"Then I'm going to have to ask you to leave," He ordered, ice leaking into his voice. I flinched.

I didn't expect this. I should have. I never thought Henry could be so harsh, but I never thought he could drunkenly crash a wedding, so I had no right guessing what he could and couldn't do. But it still hurt me. Just a prick, I reminded myself, Just a prick. A little pinch to my confidence. A slight inconvenience to my plan.

"Henry I-"

"I said I don't want to talk about it, Remi!" He yelled, slamming the desk next to him. I jumped up in surprise. Henry was starting to breathe hard and something inside me withered.

"Someone has to, Henry!" I matched his belligerent tone, "And I'm sorry, okay? Do you think I wanted to come here? Do you think I wanted to see you after you crashed my wedding?"

The fire in Henry's eyes was started to die down. But I didn't stop. I couldn't. I had this debilitating habit to keep on talking when no one wanted me to.

"You can't put me in this position and act like that! I'm being a mature adult, Henry, and to be honest, I thought you were one too."

Henry looked at me, and his eyes shone with unshed tears. My anger splintered inside me, leaving me feeling like absolute crap.

"I loved you," he whispered with an underlying harshness, glaring at me like I was hurting him. I flinched at that word. Love. Loved. "I'm sorry if I'm not being mature, but I have the right to," he took in a shaky breath, "be heartbroken."

I widened my eyes. "Henry-"

He slumped a little, and I watched the way his shoulders folded in on themselves, the way his face crumpled. "Please leave."

I tried to reply, but he cut me off. "Just go."

I internally shriveled when his voice broke at the end. Without another word, I padded out of the house, letting the thrashing rain swallow me whole.