Chapter 26
My lunch was so good (tastewise and emotionwise) that I almost forget I’m supposed to be in emotional turmoil, but after I drop Jo off at work and walk home, the sight of my apartment building makes me feel physically ill.
I’ll go home and write out an apology, I decide.
I’ll turn to a new page in my diary, and I’ll make a list of the three most important things I need to say, and then I’ll outline a speech from there.
I’ll practice it in the mirror at least five times, and then I’ll sleep on it to make sure I haven’t forgotten anything.
One more day—just enough time for us both to simmer down.
And then I’ll text him and ask if we can talk, and it will be fine. It will be fine!
As I approach the building, the door to the upstairs apartments starts to open, a garbled voice sounding through the door. “Yeah. Yep, I’ll come grab you. Be right there.”
The figure emerges into the sunlight, squinting through the sunshine and the heat.
We make eye contact, and his expression switches from neutral to…ill? Sickly? Disgusted?
Not going to explore that. That’s an entry I don’t want to add to my mental dictionary.
His eyes flicker away from mine, down toward his hands.
I lower my gaze, my eyes catching on a few little gray hairs stuck to his shirt.
Raya’s. As if he’s been walking around the apartment holding her against his chest. If I had an emotional support animal, I would’ve spent my morning doing the same.
His eyes move upward again, meeting mine.
I choke back tears with a whimper, completely frozen by the emotional intensity of his stare. He holds care and affection in his gaze, even with the emotional distance I can tell he’s trying to keep. The full force of his attention has rendered me near speechless.
My fragile heart simply can’t take it.
How could anyone possibly get to know this wonderful man and not fall head over heels in love? How have I allowed myself to hurt him—not once, but twice—when all he’s ever wanted to do is care for me?
And before I can stop myself, I burst into tears.
Harrison steps forward, then thinks better of it and halts.
My arms hang limply at my sides, snot and tears running down my face. “I messed up, Harrison.”
“Oh,” Harrison murmurs, his eyes enormous. His hair is ruffled and messy and flat where he’s been tugging at it, and his face holds the exhaustion of a sleepless night.[*]
Still crying, the words flow out of my mouth like tears.
“You were right. I was wrong, I was so wrong. I said it was all for you, the physical therapy, but that wasn’t even true, even though I thought it was true.
Because after what you said to me and after I thought you would be out of the picture forever, I still wanted it, but I wanted it for myself.
But I also really, really want you, Harrison.
And I know it’s been, like, barely twenty-four hours, but I swear I know it. I know it for sure.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but I charge ahead.
“I’ve wanted you for a really, really long time, ever since I met you, and I’m such a fucking idiot, a self-sabotaging idiot, and you deserve so much better than what I can offer you, but I’m selfish and so I’m begging you to take me back anyway.
I made this whole plan, you know? About, like, making amends, and calling my parents, and prioritizing Jo?
And I’ve already done two of the steps this morning, and I went to yoga, and I feel like I understand my vagina better, and now I especially feel sorry because all of this was so stupid.
” Harrison raises his eyebrows but doesn’t interrupt.
“I came back to Boston and you were a man all of a sudden, and I cannot believe I hurt the boy you used to be, but I especially can’t believe I hurt the man you are now, with your annoyingly sexy glasses and your unicorn stickers and your guinea pig who I want to adopt as my child.
And even though you’d changed, you still felt like home.
” I walk forward, up a couple of stairs.
Close enough that I can reach out and touch him.
I pick a piece of Raya’s fur off his shirt, and his eyes track the motion. He stays frozen.
Inhale. Exhale. “I love you so much, Harrison. I love your eyes and your hair that never does what you want it to but always looks perfect anyway with that silly little swoosh. I love the way you can’t stop yourself from caring for people and bringing them hot drinks when they’re sick and checking in on them when they’re stressed, and even when you’re annoying and conflict-avoidant, I love that you just want everyone to feel as comfortable as possible.
And, god, I love that you show everything you’re feeling on your face.
Have I ever told you about my mental dictionary?
An entry for every expression. When you smile softly and tilt your head to the right, that’s platonic affection.
When your mouth is slightly parted and your eyes are wide with one eyebrow raised, that means incredulous,” I say, imitating each expression.
“When you smile wide and your eyes crinkle up and your dimples form, that means joy. I can’t stop cataloguing every damn look on your face, and it’s all ingrained in my brain, even after all this time.
My Mental Dictionary of Harrison’s Emotional Tells. ”
Harrison blinks rapidly, his breath coming in short. He looks at me like he’s never seen me before, and I don’t know how to translate that into a dictionary entry.
“I’m so sorry for hurting you, yesterday and all the years I strung you along with no explanation as to why.
I would do anything for you, Harrison, I’d do anything to get you back.
But if it’s too late, if I’ve messed up too many times, then I understand, and all I want, all I’ve ever wanted, all I’ve ever tried and failed to accomplish, is to help you be as happy as possible. ”
A sharp exhale escapes my mouth as I huff one last sob, my eyes pressed shut. My heart rages a thunderous beat, so aggressive I may pass out. Despite every instinct telling me to keep hiding behind my eyelids, I finally pry them open and take in the scene in front of me.
Harrison has on a tight-lipped, tense-jawed look as he stares me down, his eyes full of so many different emotions it’s impossible to determine how he’s feeling. Once again, I’m having trouble matching his expression to a dictionary entry. Never a good sign.
“Please say something,” I beg, my voice a pitiful whisper.
He takes a shallow breath. And then, in a quiet tone: “I’m…I—” He’s having trouble meeting my eyes. “Now isn’t—I can’t—”
I hold up a hand to stop him, even as my heart shatters.
I can’t is one of my catch phrases. How fitting that I’m now on the receiving end.
“Harrison?” a voice calls out.
I turn, then immediately regret turning.
Harrison’s mom is walking up the sidewalk, a fiery look in her eyes.
“Hello, Emma,” she says. “I trust you’re doing well.”
I’m pretty sure there is snot dripping down my face. So, no, I’m not doing well.
Harrison clears his throat. “Emma, can we—”
“Yep,” I say, cutting him off. “Yep, I’ll give you guys space.”
He opens his mouth to say something, but I turn before he does. Without another look, I walk into my apartment and slam the door.
Skip Notes
* Tugging at hair · Flattened waves | Emotional tell | Frequency: high
Nerves.
Generally over an extended period of time; one or more hours.