CHAPTER 26
Harvey
Sleeping seems to be a thing of the past lately. My mind’s brewing with dark thoughts, and rather than sleep, I drown in them one by one.
By the time I confront Gemma in her bedroom on Sunday morning, I’ve only had a few hours of sleep all week. She arrived home from her work trip last night, but I pretended to be asleep when she came in my room. I couldn’t stand the thought of facing her, so I gave myself a little more time to process everything.
Because I’m restless and ready to go to war.
After using the bathroom, I wheel to her room, opening the door so fast that it slams against the wall. I’m sick of being on this merry-go-round with Gemma.
“How could you do this?” My fury is palpable in the air around me.
She has the nerve to look upset. “Can I go to the bathroom? Then we can talk—”
“You know”—I ignore her demands—“Claire warned me about this. She noticed the little things—slightly more makeup, the work outfits, working overtime.”
It’s not entirely true. I noticed most of them first. But I want to cause maximum damage until I shove the goddamn dagger in her heart—the same way I feel.
She closes her eyes, laying her head back down on the pillow.
I wheel closer to the bed, then I’m right next to it, close to her face. “Open your fucking eyes.”
She does. And fuck me, they look so innocent. They aren’t the eyes of a woman that I’d expect would cheat on me with her boss.
“You told me you noticed,” she says, as if we’re discussing the weather.
“What?”
“Before we broke up, you said you didn’t understand how I could think you wouldn’t notice these changes in me, but you just admitted that Claire noticed. She noticed—not you. There lies the problem, Harv.”
Screw you .
This is what you choose to talk about after you fucked your boss!
“What’s your point?” I’m not about to admit to my white lie. “Don’t talk like that. Stop looking at me like that!”
“Like what?” She sits up straight, leaning against the headboard.
“Like you’re sorry. Who would’ve known it would be so hard for you to remain loyal to me? The going gets tough and you land yourself on another dick .”
She shakes her head. “I’ve been there for you through everything,” she tells me, as if that rationalizes her cheating ways. The fact that she’s trying to justify it should be my cue to leave her right here, right now.
As a matter a fact, what am I doing still fighting with her?
“There’s no part of me I didn’t give you—you just threw it all away. You rejected me until eventually I caught on and gave you space.”
She knows all my weak spots.
Deep, deep down, somewhere where my ego doesn’t reach, I know she’s right. I know I messed up with my attitude and by not fucking her.
I just couldn’t. I’ve had too many close calls.
It’s so easy for her to judge instead of trying to put herself in my shoes and imagining how this would affect her physically, mentally, and sexually if the roles were reversed.
Maybe now would be a good time to let her know, but I don’t know how to put it all into words. God knows I’ve tried—and failed—these past few years.
“You don’t know what it’s like.” I look away, biting my lip. “To be in this fucking chair…to struggle to walk… You don’t know what it’s like! Instead of us being equals, you have to look down at me all the time. I can’t be the man I used to be. I can’t do the things I used to do with you. I can’t ride with you, and I sure as hell can’t be the man who walks up to you and fucks you against the wall.” I release a shaky breath, pushing my hair back.
My lungs feel like they will fucking collapse.
“Harvey,” she whispers, and the softness of her voice does something to me. It moves mountains inside of me, knowing I once loved this girl with all my heart. “The body doesn’t make the man…his spirit does. And in case you haven’t noticed, you have a really nice body.” She clears her throat, and her compliment goes straight to my soul.
What I would’ve given to hear those words from her before.
“You know I’ll never be able to understand, but you could’ve let me in,” she says simply.
“I did—”
“No.” She shakes her head. “No. You let Claire in, not me. Seriously, Harvey, why her?”
I want to blame her.
Say it’s her fault—because it is.
Say it’s not true—because I didn’t let Claire in, at least I don’t think I let her in more than Gemma.
Maybe I’m wrong.
But she’s dead wrong.
Finally, the truth spills out of me. “Because you’re on my case about everything. For fuck’s sake, Gemma, she’s my nurse, yet you treat me more like a patient than she does!” I breathe deeply, figuring I might as well go in for the kill. “And Claire is just light…in this darkness.”
There’s no holding back now.
She clears her throat. “You never gave me a chance to make it better. You never even gave yourself a chance to be better, to go outside and smell the fresh air. You don’t even leave your damn room, Harv. But listen—it doesn’t have to be all bad.”
“It’s not that simple—to be constantly stared at and pitied everywhere you go,” I rebut. It’s like she forgot how it was in the beginning when I left the house.
People can be cruel with their stares.
She stares at the ceiling as if she’s about to cry. “Why didn’t you tell me you felt this way?”
I swallow, and she crawls to the end of the bed, sitting on her knees, reaching for my hand.
And I swat her hand away.
Because she cheated and slept with her boss.
“Well, I’m telling you now.”
What does this change?
Do I even want it to mean anything or for something to change?
“And that’s the problem. You’re telling me now, not then. You can be happy with her, you know. It’s okay,” she says calmly.
She’s delusional.
I’m going to lose my shit.
What is wrong with me?
I don’t want Gemma, I want Claire, yet I can’t leave Gemma. I don’t know how to. What if it doesn’t work out between Claire and me?
What if I can’t sort out my life?
The fact that Gemma can look at me with a straight face and say these words means she’s completely done with me.
She doesn’t stop there. She keeps going.
“You’ll be okay. You will be happy one day.” Her voice breaks, and I can’t stop the tears from falling. I refuse to look at her as I blink and try to shove these emotions back down to wherever the hell they came from. “You can continue drawing and maybe start working at the tattoo parlor? Even if for an hour. You can—”
This is it.
We’re done.
“Stop! Why the fuck do you want to leave me so bad ?”
I close my eyes as she says, “You deserve better. We both do.”
She’s not wrong.
Though my ego wants to win this last battle.
“Why, because you’re whoring around with your boss, or because you love him?”
She doesn’t answer me, and it destroys me.
The damage is so penetrating to my chest, it’s as if someone is repeatedly stomping a brick on my lungs. My jaw feels like it’s going to lock and my teeth might break from the impact.
“I hate you,” I tell her, my voice full of venom.
I can’t believe this is it.
All those years, all those memories, all those fears.
Gone.
In one moment.
I wheel myself backward, but I can’t help stating again, “I hate you.”
I rub my eyes, waiting for her to say something.
“We’re done, Harv.” She swallows. “I’m moving out. My dad’s in Seattle, so I’ll be living at home in the meantime.”
I chuckle, a few more tears spilling down my cheeks as I shake my head. My entire upper body feels like someone has poured gasoline all over it. At least she’s moving back to her dad’s place, which isn’t too far from here, while he’s away for work in Seattle.
“You know, sometimes I wished I’d died in the crash,” I say truthfully.
“Harvey, stop! Don’t say that. I think it’s time you speak to someone. Or Claire. You shouldn’t keep everything inside.”
“And right now,” I continue, knowing I’ll be crushing her heart, if she even has one, “I wish you’d died with me.”
It’s a lie. My soul—the good part of me—feels like utter shit, and I despise myself in this moment. But my ego is soaring, flying, feeling mighty and free.
I shrug off any ounce of compassion I might feel when I see her go still, and instead I leave the room.
I feel horrible and gutted after my fight with Gemma, but also relieved.
Is it because we’re finally over and I can let go now? Is it because I couldn’t stand the silence and distance between us any longer?
I have no idea.
I stay out of Gemma’s hair and brood in my room all day while I game.
I want to text Claire and ask if she’s coming to work tomorrow, but I stop myself, knowing that fixing my mess means not creating more issues in my life.
Eventually, I hear a bunch of noise, and then I hear Henrik’s voice. He doesn’t even come and greet me, his own brother.
To make matters worse, when I wheel myself to Gemma’s bedroom doorway, I overhear her asking Henrik if he talked to our parents, and my brother reassures her that they’ll be there for me.
As if that makes me feel better.
They treat me like I need a babysitter. I used to feel dependent in the beginning when it took me over an hour to do something that used to take me five minutes pre-accident, but not anymore.
“Well, look at that,” I finally say to Gemma and her bestie. Henrik’s such a traitor sometimes. He knows she broke up with me—clearly—and yet he’s not even going to ask how I’m doing. “Here to fuck him too?”
I hope that sentence destroys her.
For all the love I had and still have for this girl, she’s hurt me more than I ever thought possible.
“What the fuck, Harvey?” Henrik regards me with flinty eyes. Sometimes I wonder if he would get in Gemma’s pants. I hope he wouldn’t stoop so low, but I never know with Hen.
“Shut up, Hen. What’re you doing here?” I ask, willing to go at him, since I can’t keep fighting with Gemma.
“I’m helping her pack.”
My eyes widen because even though Gemma told me she was moving out, I didn’t think she meant she’d start packing the same day . But as my frustration turns into panic, I finally notice the boxes next to the door.
“She’s not leaving.”
“I’m pret-ty sure she is.” Henrik twirls his forefinger in the air, signaling the empty room.
I clear my throat, wishing I could deck him. “Gemma, we can fix this. What’re you doing? You’re not leaving me. Let’s talk about this.”
Don’t do this—you were relieved two minutes ago.
She stands, and it’s like she enjoys ignoring me as she keeps packing.
Let her go.
“Please, let’s work through this, Gemma.”
My mind and my heart are at war. My heart knows it’s time to let go and move on and work on myself so that I can figure things out with Claire, yet my mind is stuck in this state of fear and worry about the unknown.
Gemma shakes her head.
She looks sad too.
“I’m trying here, and every time I do, you push back.” My voice sounds desperate.
It’s true.
Every time I tried improving myself and being there for her, she distanced herself from me even more. I doubt she even wanted this life to begin with.
You wasted years of my life.
Why couldn’t you cheat on me the first year we got together, for fuck’s sake?
I keep looking at Henrik, wishing he weren’t here. I have stuff to get off my chest, and I can’t do it with him around.
“I’d say you have two years of groveling to catch up on.” Hen narrows his eyes at me.
Really?
He has no idea what it’s like to be me. And the fact that he would protect Gemma over his own brother when she slept with her boss says a lot about him.
I can’t trust anyone.
So I leave before I destroy my relationship with my brother too. Despite how much he’s driving me up the wall right now, I can’t lose him too.
When I get to my room, I can’t even game all evening. They’re making so much noise. I assume that it’s Henrik, as he’s always been a shitty packer.
I can’t believe this is happening.
A part of me wishes that tomorrow I’ll wake up and everything will go back to normal, yet a part of me thinks good riddance .
I was never going to be able to trust Gemma again anyway.
Henrik comes in my room much later, sporting a sweaty T-shirt. He wipes his hands on his army pants before pushing his hair back.
“Let’s clear the air. I don’t want to fight with you, brother,” he says as if he rehearsed this speech. “You both messed up in your own ways, and it’s none of my business. That’s what I think, and that’s that.”
“Nobody asked you for your opinion, Hen. I’d love to see the day you’re finally in love and your girl cheats on you. Then come talk to me.”
“Well”—he clicks his tongue—“hopefully you’re not enough of a prick to wish that on me.”
I snort. “I’m a prick?” I shake my head. “Did you know?”
This is where most assholes would deny it. They’d lie and pretend or turn things around to make it seem like you’re crazy, but not Henrik.
“Yeah, I knew.”
I bite my lip. “Fuck you. What a brother you are. You’re a hypocrite—you gave me so much shit for kissing Claire; meanwhile, you knew Gemma had fucked someone behind my back.”
A loyal brother would’ve told me right away.
It’s easy, so easy, right now to unleash on him, since Gemma’s emotions are equal to those of a fucking doorknob.
“I wanted to, believe me,” he mutters. “But then when you asked me if she was at her sister’s place and the answer pissed you off, I figured you guys wouldn’t make up if you knew.”
“Oh, really? I wonder why. Get out.”
I’m raging inside.
This betrayal hurts deeper than anything Gemma could’ve done to me. This one cuts deep, it stings, the wound hurts.
He should’ve had my back instead of Gemma’s.
I’m his brother.
He just nods over and over, doing this weird thing with his mouth before looking down, hand in his pocket as he leaves my room.
He and Gemma are both on my fuck you list.
And I keep wishing I could prevent heartbreak’s poison from entering my veins. It’s reaching my bloodstream, turning all the pain and anger into loneliness instead.
I hear a knock on the door, and I take a deep breath before Gemma steps in, changing the lighting setting to brighten the room.
“Harvey.” She sits on the bed, arms around her bent knees like she’s done a million times before.
And she’ll never do this again.
Suddenly, it’s as if my lungs have been pierced. I can’t wrap my head around the fact that she’s moving out.
I pushed her out of my life then our home.
“Can I hold you? One last time?” I ask her, knowing I’ll regret it if I don’t. There’s no place for anger now—not when I might never see her again.
I put my hand out after she nods. She takes it, and I pull her into my lap on my wheelchair. She wraps her arms around my neck, and we hug.
I swallow, looking behind her. This girl helped me through my bleakest days. “When are you leaving?”
“Probably this week,” she mutters. “I’m not sure.”
“You’ll be at your dad’s?” I can’t even imagine how it would feel if she were to move in with her boss. I know their fucking doesn’t mean anything, but still, the fact that she was willing to throw away our entire relationship for him tells me it might’ve been more than a fuck.
And both scenarios piss me the hell off.
“Yeah.”
We’re no longer embracing when I stupidly tell her, “I’ll do anything to keep you, Gemma.”
I want to curse myself to hell.
One, I’m not even sure that’s what I want.
Two, there’s Claire.
Yet my mind cannot deal with the pain I’m experiencing. I want to avoid it at all costs, knowing that things are about to hit the fan once Gemma leaves and I’m all alone.
I skim her collarbone with my finger one last time, knowing it’s time to let go.
“I know. People will go to great lengths when desperate. Then the routine kicks in, and we’ll be right back where we started.”
She’s right.
“No, no, you’re wrong.”
But it’s like I refuse to believe it. I’m willing to do anything to try to keep the hurt away.
“Harvey, please, I don’t want to fight.”
“ Babe , I’ll do anything.” I can’t remember the last time I called her that. I can feel the clock ticking.
My time is up.
The girl is gone.
The fears are creeping in.
She stands up from my lap, and I know that this is it.
The ultimate moment.
“Good night, Harv” is all she says.
She’s walking away, and I can’t stop myself. I can’t stop the words from coming out of my mouth before it’s too late. Before I offer her the final prize on a fucking platter.
I might as well hand her my balls at this point.
I already gave her my heart and look what she did with it. She threw it away as if I’m trash.
“Therapy,” I whisper, hoping she’ll rethink things. “I’ll go to therapy with you.” I toss out the offer, wondering if I’d even agree to go to therapy and talk about my feelings .
She’s still facing my bedroom door, but she stops in her tracks. “I can’t do this anymore,” she says, and I believe her.
It’s obvious in her voice.
“Take your space, but let’s try. You promised you’d try,” I plead with her to reconsider.
“It was wrong. I was wrong to promise you that.”
The same way I’m wrong now for offering therapy as a last lifeline.
“Therapy—think about it,” I coax her, desperate for everything to be right in the world again. “Good night, Gemma.”
She leaves, and I get in bed, knowing I’ll pass out tonight after many sleepless nights.
Humans will go to great lengths to avoid pain.