Chapter 24 #2
I take another long sip of wine, then tilt my head to the sun, closing my eyes.
Tuning into my surroundings, I hear the crashing of the waves and breathe in the fresh, crisp, salty air.
For the first time in weeks, I feel cut off from the rest of the world as if I’m in a bubble, secluded from the outside.
I sense Henry approaching me, standing a foot away.
His presence is much welcomed and not a disturbance of my peaceful moment.
We stand like this for some time, enjoying the calm and quiet while passing along the bottle in silence.
Between the warmth of the sun, the cardigan, and the wine, my body no longer feels the effects of the brisk sea wind.
“We needed this,” I say, peeking my left eye open and handing over the bottle.
Henry takes a long sip, letting out a satisfied sigh. “It’s nice to stay in one place for a while. If we weren’t purposely hiding away from everyone, I would’ve taken the solitude and silence as eerie and foreboding.”
I shake my finger at him. “Nuh-uh. I forbid any such talk. It could jinx our bout of good luck.”
“I wouldn’t have taken you to be the superstitious type,” he says, smirking into the bottle and taking another sip.
“I’m usually not. But given all we’ve been through, it feels foolish to entice any Olympian deities to give us more bad luck.”
I open my eyes, and my head feels fuzzy. My vision wobbles. The wine is finally hitting me. Feeling off balance, I sit on the wet sand, the tiny rocks and pebbles punching deep into my bottom. Using the good old trick from the ship, I stare at the horizon, hoping to stop the dizziness.
Henry hands me the bottle, which I decline. I want to celebrate, but I don’t want to wake up in the morning feeling like utter rubbish.
He sits beside me, placing the nearly empty bottle between us. It seems he takes alcohol better than I, as he barely shows he is experiencing the same repercussions.
“Do you remember Professor Eisenberg?” Henry asks, breaking the comfortable silence.
“Was he the professor of the first course we took together? Medieval history, right? Wait! Wasn’t he the professor who had a terrible habit of slurping uncomfortably loud on his tea?” I ask, not daring to take my eyes off the horizon.
“The very one. That noise still haunts my dreams, mind you.” Henry imitates the sound, jolting my shoulders upward at the unpleasant recollection.
“You are incorrigible!” I blurt through giggles.
Boisterous laughter emits from us, as the wine tends to make things seem funnier than they are. I wipe the loose tears that have fallen down my cheeks and catch my breath. My ribs ache from laughing so hard.
Once I’ve composed myself again, I lightly smack his arm as punishment.
“Don’t you dare do that again,” I try to say sternly. But upon seeing his bright grin, I barely fight off the giggles and laugh once more.
The mention of our professor sparks us to reminisce about Oxford, a time when we only worried about writing and reading papers for multiple courses simultaneously. A time when we feared only for our careers in archaeology, when now all we fear is whether we still have a future at all.
All I want is a chance to set foot onto that campus again. To hear the clatter of footsteps along the cobblestone streets, the chimes of the clock tower in Seney Hall echoing along the limestone buildings. To sit in peaceful silence while getting immersed in a book at the Bodleian Library.
Despite being on the same island, Oxford now feels farther away than when we were in Crete—a much more distant world than the one we are in now.
“All of that feels like a lifetime ago,” I say, sighing, wishing I could go back to those days at Lady Margaret Hall. I didn’t know then that those would be much simpler times.
“Everything feels like a lifetime ago,” Henry adds.
After a few silent moments, he turns to me with a sheepish look. His cheeks are now bright pink. “I’m going to confess something embarrassing, and all I ask is for you not to mock me, alright?”
Curiosity rises in me. Over the course of our burgeoning friendship, not once has he—or I—uncomfortably shared anything, which is why I’m now eager to know what it is Henry could think I’d mock him for.
“You can tell me what it is. I promise I won’t react in such a way.”
Henry glances at the sky, like he regrets saying anything, then lets out a deep sigh. “I didn’t have to take the medieval history course. I only did so because I knew you would be in it.”
For a second, I think I heard him wrong. But once he meets my gaze, so earnest and vulnerable, I know I heard him correctly.
Pushing away the loose strands of hair blowing in my face, I stare at the seashore as endless thoughts run through my mind.
Confusion swirls within me. I realize the timeline of when we met and when we took that course overlaps, which makes me wonder—why would he take an unrequired course only because someone he had never met was enrolled?
“I’m sorry. I’m not following what you’re trying to tell me,” I say, knowing the lingering silence will only make him anxious.
Henry massages his temple as he glances at his lap. “Oh, why did I have to open my big mouth?” he says to himself.
He chuckles nervously. “Explaining this is going to be quite embarrassing.” He scratches the back of his neck.
“The first time I saw you was when Dr. Woodham guest lectured about the orders created in the Ancient Greek and Roman period. I was sitting in the back, in those uncomfortable wooden seats, and I noticed you sitting in the front row. Without a care for being the only woman in a room full of men, oblivious to the dozens of eyes on you.”
A smile perks on his lips.
“In a room full of dozens, you were the only brave one to ask Dr. Woodham questions that challenged his point of view. By the end of the lecture, I wasn’t thinking about the Doric or Ionic orders I listened to for hours on.
Instead, I was wondering how I could make a remarkable woman like that take notice of a man like me.
A man who felt so inferior to his academic colleagues that he couldn’t even be his true self around them.
Meanwhile, this woman can bravely be herself around them,” Henry utters the last sentence with astonishment.
His hazel eyes finally meet mine. “Then I found out you registered for the medieval history course in the next term. I knew it would be my only chance of ever meeting you, so I registered for it, too.”
I stare at him, befuddled by his explanation. All of that seems like such a nonsensical thing to do only to meet someone. If he wanted to meet me, all he had to do was simply introduce himself. He didn’t have to take such extra measures.
“That’s a lot of effort to meet someone, even if you thought they were remarkable.”
His cheeks flush a deep crimson from embarrassment, as he emits another nervous laugh.
He avoids looking at me and instead focuses on making a tower of pebbles, stacking one on top of the other.
From the distant look in his eyes, I can tell he is lost in his own thoughts.
There’s something he isn’t telling me, humiliation or something else.
I sense he is debating with himself whether to say it or drop it entirely.
Wanting to comfort him, I build up the courage and do the thing I know I shouldn’t do: place my hand over his.
“Henry, there is nothing you can tell me that will make me think less of you. Whatever you have on your mind that you want to tell me, you can say it.”
His eyes are fixed on our hands. “Even if it might change everything between us?”
My eyebrows draw together in astonishment. Hope floods me as I have a hunch of where this may be going, but I remain calm and poised, for the chance I am entirely wrong.
“Doesn’t matter,” I assure him. “If it’s something you need to unburden yourself with, I promise, nothing will change between us.”
Finally, he glances at me again. Then, he takes his hand from underneath mine and firmly holds it. I stare down at our enclosed hands.
“But what if I want it to change?” he whispers.
The adjustment of our hands is so subtle, yet it changes everything.
My mind and body are now thrown into chaos.
My heart feels like it’s about to burst, and I struggle to take a solid breath.
My vision tunnels to our hands, and my surroundings go dark.
I don’t move my hand away. I peer up at him, smiling.
“In what way?” I mutter.
He smiles back, relieved that I didn’t reject his advance. Encouraging him to continue, I give his hand a light squeeze, and he sits straighter, feeling emboldened to say what’s been gnawing at him.
“From the moment I first saw you, I knew you were special. From your determination to your understanding of the ancient world, all while demanding to change our present one. From the way you offer to help those you care about selflessly, without a second thought. From the way you strive to create equality in this archaic world. You know who you are and will never knock yourself down to fit into any mold society demands. It didn’t take long after we met for me to fall madly, helplessly in love with you. ”
I gaze into his pleading eyes and finally understand the emotion that has been nestled inside them for years.
All along, it was love, the love he has for me.
Inside his eyes, I can see this love along with hope.
Hope that maybe I’m in love with him, too.
My heart swells and jumps with joy knowing he feels the same as I do.
The reasons behind his actions over the past few weeks make sense now, from teaching me how to excavate on a dig site, to helping me secure a place in the post-graduate program, to guiding me through a dangerous trip across Europe to Hullbeck, and ultimately to Ogmore.
How could I have been so blind and oblivious?