I’m making my second cup of crack-caffeine this morning. I just got an email confirmation for tonight’s show and a few minutes with the lead singer. Piece of cake! There’s only a few more gigs before it slows down and then Holiday madness hits. I’ve already made my collection of Indie Christmas songs to share for the December issue along with several more reviews, including this evening’s.

It’s only Linda and I for lunch today but instead of eating in, we grab a couple of pizzas to go. Our magazine office received a special invite to an exclusive Halloween party on the upper West side; Linda doesn’t have a costume yet while I have settled for a white cat ensemble.


“What is Roger going as?” I ask, shuffling through the hangers in the thrift store.

“Indiana Jones. He wants me to be Tomb Raider. Honestly, Jude, what’s he thinking?” She laughs and rolls her eyes.

“What are we looking for then?”

“I don’t know. . . something that blends in.”

“Kade’s going as a super hero.”

“Who?”

I skim through the shiny suits to try and find his but to no avail. “Flash.”

“Flash and a snow kitten, nice. You won’t stand out at all.”

“White cat . . . I tried to convince him to be Captain America or Superman but he says his favorite has always been Flash.” I shrug and find an interesting selection. “What about Xena
Warrior Princess or . . . Lady Pirate?”

“I’ll go with Xena!”


On our walk back Linda continues to raid me about Kade and how that’s going. There’s nothing much to say except I appreciate his company; it’s easy and uncomplicated. Kade paid for my taxi the morning after, but not before sending me on a full stomach. There’s no pressure to text or expectations to call. We’re just hanging out on Friday’s and this week we’re going to the movies.


“I bet you two will end up together, eventually. You like him, J.”

“I do, but I like slow . . . for a change.”

“Has Harry gotten in contact with you again?”

“No.” I lie.


Realizing the guilt is no longer there since I’ll probably never hear from him again. I mean, if he didn’t reply to that last text. . . All temptations of reaching Harry are subsiding. And I would like to be with Kade some day but because of that, I need to give myself some more time to forget. I held on to the thought of Harry for this long but now it’s time to bury him. If Kade can wait for me then it will only embellish his character.

---

Running on a tight schedule, I barely have enough time to get home, shower and eat before heading out again. I make it to the venue and meet backstage with Jarrod Gorbel, lead man for Night Terrors of the 1927. I ask him brief questions such as what it’s like working with Blake Sennett and how different is this sound compared to his previous band The Honorary Title.

He makes it clear that his music is evolving and maturing, as most artists do. Still, he keeps great mystery, leaving me open to analyze his sound based on their performance shortly. We take a few photos and I slip away into the pit. The crowd streams in, filling the front rows while I defend my spot in the corner.

People see the badge around my neck and it’s like guaranteed personal space. Over the past few shows, I’ve even helped fans get better pictures on their phones due to my advantage and proximity. This was better teamwork; fan for fans. In some ways this reminds me of what I witnessed on Harry’s tour, but the mutual respect is far greater and I’m no longer a threat.

This gets me thinking for a split second. Thinking about Carly, Truekat1D, and her crazed delusions. I sent that video to Calvin with urgency and he assured me he would find her. He did. Carly Robison, fellow classmate and vixen who stole many things from me, including Harry. I didn’t care to hear the follow ups on what happened to her, all I wanted was affirmation that she would never interfere in my life again.

The band’s opening song is “Fire with Fire” which then transitions to “Always Be One”. The energy rages between the stage and the audience. The sound quality excels my expectation of the medium size theater and the lights add the right amount of theatrical excitement. Once they play “When You Were Mine”, one of my favorite tracks, I record a small clip for the website. By the time they reach their last song, I’ve taken enough close up shots.

“Always Take You Back” is a unique song off their latest album with their tribal-esque percussions and similar vocals to Bono’s younger days. Swaying as I listen to the lyrics, I happily tuck my camera away and take a quick glance to close my purse. Between the cracks, my eyes sweep over the floor and back up front.

The commotion from the music and the people around me blurs together into a massive aphotic blob. The stage lights tweak all reality of colors but the object beneath me; the shoe behind me. The gap between my lips allow minimal air but it’s my lungs that are restricting its passage, drying my mouth with each second of hesitation.

Head gradually falling to peer down, my chest compresses as my gaze makes its way up. I slowly turn and my lungs relapse, inflating at max capacity. His hand is suspended in the air inches away from my shoulder. Fingers shrivel up into a fist and he carefully drops it to his side. Lights are flashing across his face and I’m now certain he’s not a ghost.

I’m voiceless, but alas my lips seal and regain moisture. He wets his, not in a seductive way but out of old habit. Harry’s face appears slimmer standing at his usual height. His hair is noticeably longer than mine now, and the comparison pokes a subtle smile through. He mimics my attempt and leans in.

The song extends as it is the closing number but my attention is redirected by all my sensory cells. Harry’s new cologne fails to disguise his musk my olfactory receptors know so well. I tense up, reluctant to close my eyes, distracted by the outline of curls blocking out all images behind him and the warmth of his breath against my cheek erasing everything else.


“Can we talk somewhere, please?”


Gripping my purse hoping not to regret this, I nod and he signals for me to follow him. My fingers cling to the strap of my bag, refusing any opportunity for touch. I still can’t believe what I’m seeing or where I’m going. We escape through the back exit where a cab conveniently awaits.


“Would it be aright if we went back to my hotel? I promise I only want to talk, just in a more private setting.”


I understand his reasons, I remember, but it doesn’t cease my guard from escalating. My body language speaks for itself yet I manage to agree.


“Back to The Marcel, please.”


I stare at my reflection against the scratched plastic window that separates us from the driver, thinking it’s less rude than staring out the actual window. Hundreds of questions are slamming my mind like a jackhammer but none make it out. I’m being watched, I notice each time his head rises to glance at me then lowers to let out a breath. The silence is tightening our tiny quarters but I also sense Harry would rather start this conversation once we’re out of the car.

When the taxi parks in front of the entrance, I panic on which way to exit. Harry is closest to the sidewalk, forcing me to slide out the same way. His hand extends to help me out, but I can’t. I’m too frightened to touch him, it would only send every inch of pain surging through me with the memories. I’d rather not know.

He awkwardly hides his hands in his pockets, not expecting such a simple rejection. I know I’m the bad guy here, but I didn’t wake up prepared for this to happen today. I had no time to mentally and emotionally adapt. The hotel’s opulent interior decoration calls out to me. Gawking as I stride behind Harry at a stumbling pace. He waits quiet and humbly, leading me to the elevator. This I’m sure, if he walks me to his room I will immediately turn around.

Fortunately we walk out to an open floor where I can observe a lounge and restaurant further ahead. The hostess greets Harry like a prince but he calms the mood and says something to low for me to hear. She nods and asks us to follow her.


“This area is closed, you shouldn’t be disturbed. I’ll send the waiter right away.”


I look around the empty area. All tables are left set up with their tea lights and comfy leather chairs tucked in. The light jazz melody reminds me of Kade, however I’d rather play this kind which allows for better conversation.


“I found out about-“

“What are you-“ We commence at once.

“Sor-ry. You go first.”

“What are you doing here?”

“I found out about the text.”

“What text?” Then I realized after I said it.

“Louis erased it so I couldn’t see it. I didn’t know . . . till yesterday.”

“A phone call would’ve been an easier alternative. Aren’t you in the middle of touring?”

“We had a day off before our last shows in Sheffield.”

“Hi there, sorry to interrupt. Would you like to order anything, Sir? Or for the lady?”


I probably shouldn’t drink. Must stay coherent as possible, but one glass couldn’t hurt, it would actually ease my nerves. Just one. Harry bows his head waiting for my reply.


“I’ll have a glass of Cabernet.”

“Make that two, please,” Harry adds and searches the table, perhaps trying to remember where we left off.

“Two glasses of Cabernet. Would you like some waters as well?”

I nod with a short smile and see the waiter hurry off. I remember where we were.

“I can’t believe you’re sitting right across from me, after all this time. You completely caught me off guard.”

“I understand, but that text . . . it was the first sign of any transparent emotion I’ve gotten from you since . . .”

“I shouldn’t have sent it.”

“But you did.”

“I was drinking-“

“You need not explain . . . well, actually you do. You asked for space. I gave you time. And now I’d like to talk about it. I think I’ve earned it.”

I nod looking away. He’s right but there’s one thing that boggles my mind, among many things.

“Why did Louis erase the text?”

Harry sighs. “Cuz of this. He knew I’d be here sooner, thinkin’ he was doin’ me a favor but I didn’t take it that way.”


There’s so much I want to say to him, about my entire year, but I don’t want to derail the conversation from where he means it to go. The waiter comes and sets our wine glasses down, on the table adjacent to us he places our waters and extra napkins. I’m glad he noticed how crowded our table feels.


“How did you find me?”

“I have Liv to thank for that, but don’t punish the girl for helpin’ me.”

“Harry-what if I didn’t want to be found? I came here to start over and . . .” I want to blurt out
‘forget you’ but I think Harry hears my invisible words anyway. “I was finally coming around to that.”

“I thought you already had.”

“Not . . . quite.” I take a long sip of wine.

“I didn’t necessarily come for answers, I mean of course there’s an astoundin’ amount of questions but more importantly, I came to tell you somethin’.”

I blink repeatedly to give him the go ahead and ready myself in whatever way.

“This is it, Jude. Our last tour.”

My brows burrow and I recline in my chair. Why is he telling me this? I take another sip, buying me more time.

“But you’re about to release another album.” Harry’s eyes widen and a hint of a smile shines through. What did I say?

“Yes but this was settled long before then. We’re exhausted and it’s just a break. A long, well deserved break.”

“Then back to London or Los Angeles?”

Harry pauses, spinning the stem of his glass before taking a gulp and setting the glass aside.

“I bought a studio. It’s what I plan to be doin’ in the meantime. My new passion- production and songwriting. I have a proper list of collaborations and musicians I’ll be workin’ with in these next months. Well, after Christmas really. ”

“That’s great, Harry, but why did you come all the way here to tell me this? I mean, unless you-“

“I bought the studio here, in New York. I’ll be movin’ towards the end of November.”

My mouth needs more liquid, I need more wine. My eyes are watering and I’m at a loss for words, again. My mind can’t rummage a sentence at this point. He’s not moving here for me. This is for his work. We weren’t together long enough for him to still hold on to the idea of us.

“There’s no right or wrong thing to say. I just wanted to tell you . . . in person.”

I’ve lost my mind, even my sight begs for rescue. The sniffling begins as I try to hold back the mess I’m becoming. “Why?”

“Why?” He repeats and sits back. “I kept askin’ myself that. That first month then the second and so forth. But it was a different ‘why’ and when a year passed it became another. Why can’t I forget you? I wanted to hate, make it a bit easier, but I sincerely couldn’t. And then more questions . . . Why can’t I fall in love with this new person? Why can’t I stop thinking about you? Why can’t I stop seeing you in my apartment, in my bed? Why can’t you love me back?

So many whys . . . until your text. And that was the last time I asked, because now I wanted to hear it . . . from you.”

My initial reaction is to shrug my shoulders but I couldn’t be that indifferent.

“We weren’t together long, not long at all, Harry. I knew it wouldn’t be easy but damn it! I didn’t think it would take this long.”

“So it’s true, you do miss me?”

“I’m starting to see someone.” I blurt out and hate the taste it leaves in my mouth.

“You have every right to. I didn’t come here expectin’ us to get back together.”

“You didn’t?”

“No, that would’ve been too easy. I know there’s more that you’re keepin’, I may know a portion of it but not all. Not the most important part. You might even think I’m invasive for movin’ here, or appearin’ tonight. . . but you should also realize, I’ve changed.”


I reach over for the glass of water to help swallow the lump in my throat. I’m at the verge of tears and can’t decide what I want to do with this bomb in my lap. This city has given me so much, a normal and private life away from the chaos that shadows Harry. The thought of all that returning . . . does it outweigh the fact that Harry is returning also?

Harry excuses himself to the restroom and I finish the rest of my water. It’s ten past one in the morning and I work tomorrow, but with what concentration? Harry has clearly raptured me with this catastrophic news and appearance. Suddenly Kade pops in my head. What about normal dates and uncomplicated relationships? Nothing with Harry is ever uncomplicated.

This isn’t possible! I refuse to believe Harry still wants me after the headlines I’ve read of his picky dates. I’m just me, a 3 or 4 next to all those 10s. This is a joke! He comes back, tucking his wallet in his pocket while making himself comfortable in his seat.


“I don’t believe you-this. I’ve seen you move on just fine. There’s no possible way that you’re coming to me wanting to work things out or whatever you’re trying to pull.” I shake my head in denial.

“Last one. . . Why is it so hard to believe that I loved you? Is it because of my job, cuz you met me outside of that? I was vulnerable before you, I opened up despite all my senses fighting against it. You knew-I told you how relationships frighten me, let alone one of distance. I was nothin’ but honest with you Every Single Day that we were together. . . you even saw the video. Jesus Christ, Jude! I was calling out your name-delirious as fuck! What more proof did you need that I would’ve never intentionally done that?! Yet you still ran!” His voice raises the more worked up he gets until he pauses to breathe.

“I ran for other reasons too.” I mumble and bite my lip as I taste the first tear.

“Yes, you stated that in your beloved letter.”


Harry reaches in his back pocket, takes out his wallet, and I squeeze my eyes shut dreading what he’s about to show me. A few more tears roll down my cheeks at the crinkled piece of paper on the center of the table. If this is the time, the moment when all things come to the surface, then I’d better get it out quickly.


“It hurt. . .”

“Don’t talk to me about hurt,” he says in a serious tone. I can see that he’s mad.

“No, let me finish. It’s my turn.” He laces his fingers together and tightens his jaw, attentive and torn. “It was beginning to hurt me . . . the sex.”

Harry’s face softens. He’s listening now.

“Deep down I knew something was wrong, something greater, and if I told you I know you would have stopped everything to help me. Because that’s who you are, that’s what you do and everyone loves that about you. When Aunt Maggie died, my mom took me to another doctor in California and her nightmare came true. Then mine began.“ I sniff again and Harry hands me a napkin with a worried daze. “After two biopsies, a laparoscopy and careful surgery, they managed to remove most of the implants. But they discovered my left fallopian tube was completely blocked by scar tissue.”

“Jude. . . ” Harry leans in to hold my hand but I quickly slide them under the table. Instead his fingers dig through his hair while he inhales deeply. His emotions pour through his eyes as he begins to sob before me.

“There’s a great chance that I may be infertile, Harry. Meaning, it’s possible I can't have children in the future.” I struggle with my tears and cover my face briefly before continuing. “The surgeon said it already looked like it was spreading to the other tube and if I’m not careful to get my periodic check ups, and schedule for a Fimbrioplasty, then my chances of ever getting pregnant are done.”

Harry’s body shakes the harder he cries. Attempting to wipe his face, he reveals nothing but guilt and torment.

“Had I known . . . had you told me,” his voice cracks and fades. “I would have been there for you, every step. . . every second. Knowing all this now, just breaks my heart all over again. . . how do I go back, how do I finish this tour with all this?”

“It’s not your problem, Harry. It’s mine. It’s my life and that’s why I kept you out of it. I haven’t slept with anyone because I’m afraid of it hurting me. But of course that isn’t the whole reason.”

My voice relaxes now that I’ve gotten that off my chest.

“Also, as much as I loved you, I yearned for more purpose. I missed working and I wasn’t lying when I said I enjoy it here. I’m loving my job, this city, and being free from any doomed relationship. Heck, I thought about dating my boss, but what’s the use in that if it’ll eventually have to end too? No one’s going to be in a relationship with me after I tell them I don’t want to have sex.”

“You think I’m some horrible person that would leave you if you had told me that?” He says in a hurtful tone and finally looks up at me.

“You’re not the horrible one, I am. I’m the coward. I just wanted to spare you the trouble. I thought I was doing you a favor in the long run.”

“Just like Louis,” he snickers.

“No. I just wanted you to move on and find someone better. Someone who could handle constantly being in the public eye and relish all the special treatment. Maybe someone who’s already used to the hotels, traveling and glamorous work.”

“I don’t want that person. I wanted you. If you would have told me all this from the start, I would’ve made it happen. I would have given you everythin’, or nothin’. I just wanted us to be together. . . I’m gutted. You went through so much, you felt and hid so much.”


We sit in silence for a while. Our rivers have dried and our glasses are empty. The entire restaurant is closed, minus the sparing lights. Come to think of it, I haven’t seen an employee for the last half hour. My watch keeps ticking and soon it’s 2am. I’m not the least bit tired, I’m not anything but shocked right now. What a mess, two people cemented in a lurid mess.


“I have a 4am flight . . . I should leave soon,” Harry spills in his deep voice and collects my letter off the table.

“What-what now?”

“The fact that we hurt so much proves more to me. I think it’s quite obvious but I’ll leave it at that. . . I’m comin’ back regardless. So I give you back your space and if you truly wish to remain unbothered, then our paths will never cross and it’ll be as if I’m not even here. But . . . see there’s this girl that lives in this big city . . . and I still love her.

I still want her but I remember her sayin’ how unconventional we started things. And if she choses to see me again, then I’d do things properly. I’d win her back the right way and I’d reassure her that I she could live the life she truly wants . . . with me in it.”


I feel a hundred pounds heavier and I’m carrying it all on my chest. Harry looks the same. There was no telling how this talk would start or finish. His impulse to come here only got him as far as seeing me. A lot was said, more than I had anticipated. A part of me wishes this were a dream then I’d wake up back to my routine. But the other half is glad it isn’t. Still how do I go back to my routine?


“Whatever you decide, please don’t drop all communication? Even if you shouldn’t want to see me, I like hearin’ from you and knowin’ you’re okay.”

I finally nod.

“Look, I know it’s late and we both have a long days but If you’d like, you can sleep up in my room since I have to leave.”

The idea is awfully tempting but if I’ve gone through this whole night without touching him, sleeping in his bed would be like laying in my own grave. I would get no sleep.

“I can’t do that.”

Harry nods in lament and seals his lips together.

“Let me at least get your cab-“

“I’d like to accompany you to the airport if that’s alright?”

Stunned, Harry whispers, “Yes-yes of course. I’d be grateful for your company.”


We slowly and achingly rise from our chairs. I quickly excuse myself into the dark hallway of the bathrooms before we leave. When we get to his room, I stay outside while he gathers his things and leaves with one simple bag. The air is unsure, I can’t discern if we’re on good terms. All I know is that we agreed on time to process it all.


“JFK, please.”


I don’t mean to but the vibrations of the cab ride rock me to sleep. When I awake to a deep voice calling my name, I’m completely disoriented and I forget why I’m in a taxi in the first place. It’s a bit chilly out and my jacket isn’t warm enough. I sit up and don’t know how to say good bye. I couldn’t even manage a hello. Harry’s already standing outside with his luggage and I see him pay the driver as he instructs him to take me wherever I ask.

Closing the door, he hunches down, exhales and tries to smile. His efforts of holding a positive expression don’t fool me, though I’m guilty of the same.


“I guess . . . take care of yourself and don’t be too shy to say hi once in a while.” Harry pats the hood and I feel the wheels release from their brakes.


His figure stands still, watching me grow farther. I watch him shrink by inches but then we stop, there’s a car in front of us unloading passengers and baggage. A weird feeling washes over me and I have no choice but to let it ride.


“Excuse me Sir, would you mind-I forgot-“

“Go ahead, I’ll wait,” he responds with a knowing smile.


I bolt out the door, not caring to close it, and find Harry walking towards the entrance. I regret having to call his name, hoping no one comes in our way. He turns with my first cry, recognizing my voice but dumbfounded to see me again. I jog over to him and I’m not sure what I’m going to tell him, I haven’t planned that far ahead.

I reach him, stop and catch my breath while he still appears confused but smiles anyway. Then my body jolts forward and I swing my arms around his neck. Harry takes a moment to respond and folds around me. The impact of my chest against his happily fights for the space to breathe, so profoundly and selfishly, I have no words but this. He holds me tighter, fists clenching to my jacket. It’s the hug I never gave him when I didn’t say goodbye. It’s the embrace I should’ve shared when he found me tonight.

Horns beep in annoyance, warning us of time. Time for flights and drives. We pull apart and our smiles seem hopeful now. His green eyes cut right through me with sharp precision straight to the heart, releasing confusion and lost feelings. All feelings. With one foot behind the other I distance myself and Harry reaches down for his bag, our eyes still locked. He’s right . . . it is quite obvious.

Notes

A/N: Chapter Playlist

When You Were Mine -Night Terrors of 1927 feat. Tegan and Sara

Always Take You Back - Night Terrors . . .

The Greatest Bastard -Damien Rice

Heart In Wire -Matthew Mayfield