Chapter 10 #2
I watch until Hemi disappears past security and whirl to the exit and hurry to the car. After I unlock the car and put my seatbelt on, I sit clutching the steering wheel for an unknown amount of time, but it’s long enough the sun has dipped low and my eyes no longer burn.
I drive home with the feeling of Hemi’s arms wrapped around me and the sensation of his lips brushing my ear as he demands I text him. When I arrive home, I send him a simple text wishing him a good flight.
He doesn’t respond. But that’s probably because his phone is on aeroplane mode and he hasn’t received it yet.
I enter my office and throw my phone on the couch, hoping an out-of-sight, out-of-mind mentality will work, but when I sit at the desk, all I see is Hemi.
Hemi trailing his fingers over my books and staring at my posters.
Pushing me against the desk and getting on his knees.
He left the book I lent him, my favourite book I wanted him to have, and I’m hoping it isn’t a bad omen.
I open my laptop and stare at the blinking cursor blankly.
He was anxious when he left. Rolling his shoulders the same way he did when I first picked him up.
I type out a sentence but backspace it.
He hadn’t looked as stressed leaving as he did arriving, but it’s enough to make me frown at my computer and worry about how he’s feeling. If his shoulder’s giving him issues again, or if he’s overthinking everything.
I click out of my document and open my notebook, but after holding my pen poised to capture my nonexistent thoughts, I stand in a flurry and snatch my phone from the couch.
It’s blank.
No response from Hemi, which is normal. He’ll be in Auckland now. I’ve stared at my blank document longer than I realised.
I sigh and open the message Daisy sent asking if Hemi left okay. I tell her he did and leave my office, clicking the door shut behind me firmly.
There’s no point trying to work when I know I won’t be able to think creatively with Hemi on a flight.
I switch the TV on and watch rugby replays on the sports channel, which sends a pang of longing through me whenever Hemi appears on the screen. I turn it off and open my book, and stare at the sentences until it’s a reasonable time to go to bed.
So much for not getting invested. What happened to hiding in my office and life going back to normal when he left?
I huff and turn the light on, wincing at the harsh yellow and sit up in bed.
There’s no point trying to sleep with my thoughts running in circles.
No point when the bed feels empty without Hemi, and I can’t get warm without him wrapped around me.
I grab my phone and open my book and force myself to read.
By the time I’ve managed to finally immerse myself in the book and my eyes have difficulty staying open, a message comes in. My heart beats so fast I go faint and have to remind myself to breathe. I click on the message and open the photo Hemi sent me.
I roll my eyes and let out a small laugh into my empty bedroom. The photo is of The Fellowship of the Ring on a tiny aeroplane screen with Hemi pouting, pointing his thumb down.
The text below the photo says:
I can’t believe they don’t have the extended version. How dare AirNZ do this to me! What am I supposed to do for the next ten hours???
A giddy grin spreads over my face, and I settle deeper into my sheets that suddenly feel less alone now that Hemi’s with me. I’ll take a text over nothing.
11:00 P.M.
How dare they? Peter Jackson would riot.
I’ll take it over nothing.
11:01 P.M.
Maybe it’ll force you to sleep. You heading to Singapore now?
11:02 P.M.
Yeah. I nearly missed the connecting flight. We were delayed and then spent ages on the tarmac. Sorry I didn’t respond. Just boarded the flight now. Still in AUK.
Will you make the connecting flight in Singapore?
Should do. Shit gtg. I’ll try to check in when I get to Singapore.
11:03 P.M.
Have a safe flight.
He doesn’t respond, but the void in my chest has filled enough that I put my phone away, turn off the lights, and try to sleep. It doesn’t come as easy with Hemi not here, but I manage.
I wake groggy after a restless sleep to a message that he’s arrived in Singapore and is boarding his last flight to South Africa, which means he won’t respond to any of my messages for a while.
I text him back anyway, so he has a message from me when he lands since I’ll be asleep then—well, hopefully asleep—and get on with my day.
It’s a long day of barely any words written, and mostly consists of staring out the window or at everything Hemi touched in my office. I shift to write at the kitchen table but that’s worse, looking at the empty chair across from me.
The next day, I wake to a text from Hemi, but all it says is he arrived safely and immediately began training.
He doesn’t mention how his shoulder is, which I take to mean he’s having issues again.
I ask how he’s feeling, but I won’t get a response until the end of the day since it’s around ten P.M. his time, so begin work.
When I hit midday with not even a sentence written and the only thing in my notebook a doodle of Daisy’s dog, I make the stupidest decision to date and go on a hike.
The desperation is real that I’m trudging through the same hike I did with Hemi, hoping to capture some of the same magic and inspiration when he was here with me, but all I get is cold fingers and wet hair when it starts raining.
I snap a miserable selfie at the second lookout and text it to him when I’m home and warm from a bath.
I send the photo with the message:
Lacking so much inspo I went hiking. It did NOT work.
When he hasn’t responded by the time I’m in bed, I send another message.
Hope training is going okay and Daze is helping your shoulder.
It’s eleven A.M. in South Africa, so he’s probably training or in meetings. I put my phone down and roll over to sleep instead of waiting for a reply.
When I wake on Wednesday, the third day without Hemi, it’s to a hearted message and the response:
I can’t believe you went hiking without me! Did you eat stew when you got home?
And zero response about his shoulder. Not a good sign. I text Daisy to keep an eye on him.
By Thursday night, I’ve had three responses from Hemi while I’ve sent multiple texts. That night, I leave my phone shut in my office.
I knew his responses would be spotty with the time difference and his need to focus on training, crashing early when he got to his hotel room, and winning the cup. But if Daisy can respond to me with the time difference, I know when I’m not wanted.
I roll over to avoid facing where he slept and stare into the darkness. He’s having issues again. I can tell from the messages he’s choosing to respond to, and I have a sinking feeling about Sunday. He’s in his head. And he’s not talking to me.
He said I helped him, so either he’s forgotten that or it wasn’t true.
I decide not to message him until he messages me. I don’t want to add more pressure to him when I’m worried he’s overthinking his shoulder again and being yelled at by his coaches. Clearly he wants to focus on the game and the messages are just more on his plate. I can wait.
And I continue waiting, with no messages, until an hour before the game.