He Loves Me...He Loves You Not (9 page)

Rosa lies on my floor flipping through a
magazine. “So there’s a party, tonight. You wanna go?”

“Uh, I dunno, you?”

I’m lying on my bed and I roll over. The
faint smell of Henry’s cologne lingers on my pillow. I inhale and
I’m bathing in his scent. I miss him. It’s been days since I’ve
spoken to him and I miss him so bad that I ache.

I can’t sleep. Even though I’m the one that
kicked him out and told him to leave me alone, I leave my window
open, hoping that he might sneak through it. He hasn’t.

At night I swear the empty side of my bed is
warm. I know I’m dreaming up his presence. I know he’s at home in
his own bed, but I feel better if I pretend. I even go as far as
imagining his arms around me. His soft breathing against my ear

.

He’s been calling—and texting. I haven’t been
answering. My mind has been in a blunder over him. Every time my
phone rings or buzzes I have to talk myself out of responding.

“You know I’m always down to party,” Rosa
announces.

“Where is this party at?” I already know the
answer to my question. Henry sent me a text earlier. He’s hosting
the party.

“Henry Garner’s.”

“I don’t know,” I tell her.

What I don’t tell her is seeing him and her
together in an intimate setting will be more than I can handle.
Since our argument I fight the better half of myself every day in
school. I see them and want to shout… Let out a tortured cry. Rip
at Callie’s hair. I want to tell her what I’ve been doing with her
boyfriend of four years.

At the same time, I think about ripping my
own hair. I tell myself that the self-inflicted pain will numb the
pain in my heart. Then after thinking about it for a minute, I know
that’s not true. Nothing can numb the pain in my heart. Not even an
anesthetic.

“I think it will be fun,” Rosa adds.

I think it will be a disaster. An earthquake.
Rumbling. Shattered buildings. Scattered people.

She closes the magazine and puffs out her
bottom lip. “Come on, please.”

“Argh.” I inhale deep, then exhale. “Okay.
But just for a little bit.”

She beams. “We won’t wear out our
welcome.”

Well
she
won’t. I wore out my welcome
months ago.

****

As we walk up the driveway illuminated by odd
shaped landscape lights, I feel like I’m walking to the chopping
block. I’m Anne Boleyn. My death is imminent and all the people on
the porch turn toward us—staring.

Henry sits on the swing, his arm draped over
Callie’s shoulders. His eyes flash over to me. We exchange a
tortured glance. Then I blanch and turn away. Pain sears through me
and clutches my heart, like death’s icy grasp. I choke on the
breath caught in my throat and try to control my breathing as
Callie makes a rude noise.

Rosa and I hop up the three steps leading to
Henry’s front porch. “Ugh.” Rosa rolls her eyes and glares at
Callie. “Ignore her.”

“I’m trying,” I say, even though every part
of me wants to stab her in the face. I exhale. I’m delicate China.
I’m being thrown into a wall, breaking apart. “I don’t think coming
here was such a good idea.”

Rosa strolls ahead and opens the front door.
She holds it open for me and I walk inside. She follows and closes
the door behind her. We walk down the narrow hall leading to the
kitchen. “Sure it was,” Rosa tells me. “You just need a
beverage.”

“I’m glad you know what I need.” My hope is
that she hears the sarcasm in my voice.

“Are you getting sassy with me?” she asks
when we’re in the middle of the newly remodeled kitchen.

I stare off and the dark cherry stained
cabinets and black countertops blur in my vision. “No.” I’m
exhausted. I don’t feel like getting into with her right now.

After Rosa pours herself a drink and one for
me, she starts chatting up some Emo guy named Chad from her history
class. I take that as my cue to exit.

Climbing the stairs, I decide to head to a
familiar spot. Henry’s bedroom. I can’t be around people right now.
I feel like an open wound. An open cesspool oozing from flesh and
there aren’t any doctor’s around to stitch me up.

I’m standing in his doorway and I’m hit with
a swarm of emotion. My bottom lip quivers and I bite it and I suck
back my on-coming tears. The tidy, bedroom with the grey walls and
hardwood floors brings back a vivid stain of flashbacks. The first
time he kissed me, I was sitting on the edge of the bed.

My eyes wander over to the french doors that
lead to a balcony. We watched the stars together and he told me he
loved me. Reminiscing about our good times is making me a mess. I’m
spoiled milk knocked off the counter—spreading—a huge puddle on the
floor. Somebody help me. Somebody please clean me up.

Inside the room, I set my cup down on his
nightstand and center on the photo of him and Callie. A rush of
anger circulates through me. What’s so special about her? If he
loves me like he says he does, why is her face the last thing he
wants to see before he lets sleep take over him? I’m trembling. So
overwhelmed with hurt and anger that I do the only thing I can
think of to eliminate the way I’m feeling. I flip the picture over,
and then flop down on his bed.

His smell lingers on the pillow case and
creeps up my nostrils. Tide and True Religion. I want to bathe in
it, wash my body with it so I’ll never forget it. The enticing
scent blankets my entire body and I want to stay wrapped up in it
forever.

Hysteria comes out through screams and I grab
the pillow to my right and smother my face with it, screaming
louder. Even though I’m fully clothed, I feel naked. Lying bare on
a bed waiting for my lover to come to me. This is the real me.

When I go to set the pillow down a
rectangular object catches my eye. The crumpled up object lies face
down the mattress and I pick it up, holding it up in front of my
face.

“Oh,” I gasp and throw my hand over my
mouth.

The crumpled up object is a photo of me and
Henry. I close my eyes and tears spill onto my cheeks.

I’m smiling, beaming, so elated and happy
that my face looks flawless. The sunlight hits my cheeks and I look
like I’m glowing. Henry is kissing my forehead. His lips curled up
into a half-smirk. For a moment I forget my depression. I forget
about everything. I’m lost in that moment.

Then a thought hits me and I frown. I’m still
a secret. I might be the last thing he thinks about before going to
bed at night, but I’m still hidden—banished to an eternity of
darkness underneath his pillow. I’m not special enough to earn a
place on his nightstand and it kills me.

I’ve been told that it takes a long time for
a broken heart to mend, but as I lie there in my loves bed, I
wonder just how long it will take me. When I’m away from Henry he
haunts me. With his voice. Surreal hallucinations. No matter where
I am or what I’m doing, he’s there. A constant reminder.

How long will my obsession last? How long
will I feel so consumed by my love for him that I can’t think of
anything else? I’ve done the best I can to stay away from him. I’ve
done the best I can to not answer his messages or calls. But long
will it be before I crack? I’m certain it won’t be long at all.

At night, I tremble alone in my bed. I’ve
bitten my fingernails down to the stubs. I’ve had dreams about him
every night since we’ve been apart and even though it’s only been
days it feels like we’ve been separated for years.

There are times where I tell myself I hate
him and then I think of something Mom told me when she and Dad
split up. “Love and hate are such passionate emotions. They are so
powerful that they blur the lines between one another. Even though
you tell yourself you hate a person if you’ve ever loved them at
all, that’s a lie.” She’d stared off blankly when she told me the
next part. “I stand by this when I say it, together or not, it is
impossible to hate someone you love.”

Mom is a wise woman. Love drives people to
despair and distorts the lines between fantasy and reality. Love
can knock the wind out of your lungs. The emotion can lock you down
and make you feel imprisoned—shackled to a wall. There is no
escape. Once love takes hold, it will always be inside of
you—always apart of you.

Love is a sickness. It is a disease. One
minute you feel like you’re flying. You’re a bird soaring through
miles of endless blues sky. Nothing can pull you down. Nothing can
put out the sizzle burning inside of you. Yet at the same time,
love can make you nauseous, and grief stricken. The inside of your
stomach churns. You’re dry heaving. So insane and delusional that
love might leave that you start rocking back and forth like a
maniac in a mental institution.

I’m almost there.

Is it worth it? The ups and down of the
emotional rollercoaster called love? Is it worth a person losing
their mind, having a broken heart, and constantly questioning their
judgments or feelings?

I glance at the picture of Henry and me one
more time before setting it face down on the mattress and covering
it up with the pillow and I know the answer to the question.

Absolutely.

I love Henry and I don’t care anymore. I
don’t care if I seem stupid for wanting to be with him under the
circumstances we’re in. I don’t care if people think I’m a moron.
My love for him is the Marianas Trench, vast, deep and wide—never
ending.

I need to tell him. I need to tell him that
nothing or no one can put out the fire for him burning inside of
me. Not Callie. Not anybody. It will blaze bright and vibrant
forever and ever. Until the day I meet my maker. Until the day I
die.

As I sit up, on the edge of the bed pushing
myself to my feet a sudden urge of relief sweeps over me and I know
that I’m making the right decision. And I squash the tiniest bit of
doubt that was left in my mind.

But as soon as I stand. I hear them.
Footsteps.

Two pairs of footsteps. I freeze. There are
two people heading toward the bedroom. Muffled voices throb in my
ears. They are outside the door. My eyes center on the brass door
knob as it starts to turn. Almost like the circular handle is an
orb suspended in front of me, glowing in the dark.

“Henry,” Callie snaps.

“What?” Henry bites back. He’s angry. It
appears I’m about to be in the middle of a heated argument and I’m
convinced if Callie sees me, I’ll only make things worse for
him.

“Oh no,” I gasp and glance around the room. I
need to hide.

The knob turns more and glows. Turns and
glows.

I panic and spin around in a blur. Where can
I go? Where can I hide? I stare at the closet. I dash over and
fling the door open. No!

The small cubby hole is way too small and way
too messy. I scramble over to the french doors that lead to the
balcony. I’m fumbling with the lock. My hands are sweating and they
keep slipping at I try to turn it.

My stomach is in my throat. Oh God. The knob
on the door turns all the way and the door creaks open slightly. I
look at the skirting on Henry’s queen sized bed. Black satin fills
my gaze and right before Henry steps through the door, I dive
underneath the bed.

Chapter 13

“
A desire arises in the mind. It is
satisfied immediately another comes. In the interval which
separates two desires a perfect calm reigns in the mind. It is at
this moment freed from all thought, love or hate. Complete peace
equally reigns between two mental waves.”~ Swami Sivanada ~

My heart hammers, pounding against my
ribcage. The thumping is so loud I swear Henry will be able to hear
it. My breaths leave my lungs short and raspy. I swallow hard and
cover my mouth. The springs on the mattress squeak as someone sits
down and the mattress dips down over my head.

Henry lets out a frustrated sigh and my limbs
tingle. I almost pray that he’ll start talking to himself just so I
can listen to his melodic voice.

His fingers brush against something and I
listen as the sound of crinkling paper echoes through the quiet
room. “I miss you.” His voice is soft—hushed and I know he’s
looking at our picture.

Warmth fills me up and my eyes water. “I miss
you, too,” I say silently.

Then another pair of footsteps. “I missed you
too, gorgeous,” she coos.

Callie. Ugh. The sound of her voice makes me
cringe, but at the same time a smile curls on my lips and
excitement flows through me. He wasn’t talking about her. He was
talking about me.

Callie’s lips smack against his cheek and I
wince.
Oh man. Please don’t do this right now.

“Callie,” Henry groans. “I just want to be
alone right now. Can you like go downstairs or something?”

More weight shifts on the bed and I see that
someone is crawling across it. I blanch and turn away. “Oh you
know, you want to,” Callie purrs. “You know I’m irresistible.”

I sneak a peek and I’ve now determined who is
who. Callie is on my left. Henry on the right.

Henry moves and I assume he’s pushing her
away. “I’m not in the mood, Callie. Leave me alone.” His voice is
more adamant.