London

40 - "Shouldn't you go home?"

Harry

Only a few texts is what I was granted with from Alex. I know she expected me to put on a fight and I tried, but I was too tired. Is she worth more than this? Is our relationship worth more than a couple of boxes? It sure as hell is, but neither of us is ready for anything other than what we're already dealing with. I can't fuck up her life again, we both need to heal ourselves before we can ever think about us as a couple again. And even then I know I did too much to ever make it right. Some things will always stand between us and maybe our love for each other will never change, those acts will never change as well. She'll never trust me again, and without trust we are nowhere. 

At the post office there are a couple of boxes waiting for me. It took all of my last paycheck from Abby to get it delivered here, but I don't want Alex driving up here and from what I could read between the lines of her texts, she wasn't planning on doing that either. 

The boxes are numbered and it takes me just as much trips from the post office, to my rental car and back to the house. My life apparently fits in seven boxes total. Some are heavy and carry fragile stuff like plates and glasses that I won't need for God knows how long and some hold my pillows and clothes I haven't missed up until now and I place them all in my little room. 

The only one I'm interested in is the first one that I save for last. When I open it I am greeted with a picture of Alex and myself taken at my birthday. She bought two of those disposable cameras and I never really payed attention to the end result, but this one is really cool. We actually manage to look happy. That night I remember well because she was finally able to have sex with me again despite it coming from some liquid courage that she tried to hide from me. In this picture I see two people who are having a good time with each other. On the back of the picture is a piece of paper that she glued to it. With trembling fingers I fold it open, realizing it is a letter and my heart bursts out of my chest. 

Dear Harry,

I wish we could go back to this moment. That I could tell you how unhappy I was actually feeling here and what the demons in my head were telling me. I wish I had know about Susie from the start so that she wasn't there at all. Maybe then we could have stand a chance against everything that happened these last months. Together.

Thank you for the beautiful drawing of my father. I hope you don't mind that I took it out of one of the notebooks. The rest of them are really good as well and you really should follow your dream and use your fund to start your own parlor. That leaves me to the second thing I want to say to you and your mother. Although it was lovely of her to try and help me out, it turns out that all I needed was some peace and quiet, and therapy. I'm still not better and I wonder if I'll ever be, but there's nothing money can buy me that will help me and I have to decline her fund. It doesn't feel right no matter where we stand. 

The house is just as empty as it was the day we viewed it, keys are there. 

Good luck in Cambridge, I hope you're all alright, love Alex

Part of me wants to pick up the phone and answer her letter, but I fold it again and place the picture on my nightstand. Hanging on to the last sliver of hope that she still hasn't said goodbye while knowing damn well she's better off without me.

"Your mother isn't doing okay today," Abby says, interrupting me from staring to the picture of Alex and me. 

"I figured," I mumble, thinking to how I left her before my trip to the post office. "What do you think?"