All Again

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Harry

Now.

I pause.
The oven goes off behind me signaling the bacon is done.
Breaking my eyes from Becca’s stare and attention, I stand.
I get up to prepare our BLT sandwiches.
"Do you want cheese on yours like normal?" I ask. “I can melt it quick.”
Becca gets up and joins me in the kitchen.
"You're determined for me to eat aren't you?" she says and I smile.
"You've been here a bit. Maybe you're hungry." I offer.
She doesn't respond.
For the last half hour things between us have been civil. We haven't covered much ground, but the parts we have, are reflected on kindly and without malice.
I have hopes for today.
We might actually accomplish something.
She gives a small sigh. "Fine. And yeah, cheese please."
"Coming right up." I say. I start separating the foods; the lettuce, tomatoes and cheese- and she watches me.
"You're staring." I tell her after her eyes don't shift.
She actually smiles too.
"I'm just trying to get use to seeing you with short hair again. It's been so long."
“You’ve seen me with short hair.” I point out. "For a while actually."
“Yeah but your hair always fluctuated. I haven’t seen it this short in a while.”
I run my hands through my hair. I want to grow it out again, but Julie would kill me.
She sees long hair as being unkempt.
She keeps starting at me. "You look like 2013 Harry with the way its trying to curl up."
I chuckle. What the hell is that?
"I didn't know there was a such thing as 2013 Harry."
"Oh yeah." she says proudly. "A fandom favorite."
I look back at her. It wasn’t often she grouped herself in with my fans.
"Do you still keep up with everything?" I ask, as I begin to make her sandwich first.
"Like what?" she asks me.
"My music, the fandoms..."
She nods no and I’m disappointed.
I write about her from time to time and there is some music about our past relationship that I have recorded. To know she doesn't even listen, stings.
I keep up with her.
Every now and then I read her column and as I already explained, I still get updates on things she does. Every time my phone alerts me to a new Beccapenelope Instagram post, my hands scramble to check it.
It helps keep me sane. I don’t know if I’m ready to live in a world where she has completely disappeared yet.
I turn from her, growing quiet. I begin to melt her cheese.
As I’m turned from her, she surprises me.
"It's not because I don't want too." she says suddenly and quietly.
I turn back to her.
"It's just too hard too Harry." She says.
For a moment I can see she is honest. For a moment, she is vulnerable.
But only for a moment.
As I begin to smile and respond, she cuts back in.
"I listen to the other guys stuff though and keep up with what they do."
Her shield has immediately gone back up and she is back to trying to piss me off.
This time, I let it go.
I go to the fridge and grab a pitcher of juice.
It is cranberry and grape juice mixed together- her favorite.
She instantly notices.
"I thought you didn’t live here." she says quickly.
"I stayed here last night, after Jeff left my other place."
"Oh that's right, you say Barbie is out of town?"
I look at back at her and then she remembers how I scolded her about that name.
“Sorry.” she says quickly. “Julie.”
I smile and pour the juice for her.
"You have really got to come up with a different name for her."
She doesn't respond and takes the glass when I hand it to her.
"Thank you." she says. "You didn't have to make this."
"It's no problem." I say. I turn away from her and finish her plate.
I hand it to her as well.
"Well it looks good." she admits and picks up the sandwich.
I don't watch as she takes the first bite and finish preparing my own.
"It's a shame you don't live here or anyone...it seems like such a nice place to go to waste."
"So live here then." I throw out casually, popping one of her Cheddar chips in my mouth.
"Huh?" she asks me. Her sandwich now stuck in mid-air.
"You can live here." I say. "I'll still cover the bills and you can alternate from time to time."
"I live with Chase." she reminds me as if I can forget.
"You need a break from him sometime I’m sure."
After all I would. Living with him would drive me fucking insane.
She looks back at me.
"You would be fine with him coming here sometimes? To our place?" she asks and we lock eyes.
That would be my only stipulation.
"No." I say. "He couldn't come here. It would just be for you. Like I said, I don‘t like people here."
“Why? What‘s the big deal?”
I don’t answer. I turn away.
How can I tell her I’m preserving things? I know we’ll never be back together, but in this house we are.
Everything has stayed the same, because in this condo, it is if time never moved on.
Her decorations hang on the wall along with our pictures. Our sheets are on the bed. Her perfumes still line the bathroom counters.
The only thing missing is the majority of her clothes.
Still, there are some.
A few days after she left, I discovered a laundry basket of her things she had forgotten about.
Back then, I thought she might come back- as she always did- and put everything away.
It may be weird, but I’m not ready to let it all go yet. I don’t want anyone here because of fear of what they’ll say or if they mess something up.
She narrows her eyes and looks at me curiously.
“Why would you want me to stay here?”
“Because like you said, it’s going to waste. Besides, it is your home too, in a way. We could just alternate staying here.”
"That's shady though." she says. "Chase would probably assume something was going on if I‘m staying somewhere else."
I smile.
"Well he wouldn't have to know would he? Just tell him you’re at Kelsey’s or out of town."
“Kelsey would love that.” she says and bites her sandwich. “Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. She’s married now, with a baby girl.”
She smiles widely like a proud auntie.
I smile with her.
“I know.” I say and she looks at me in confusion.
“I talked to her about two months ago.” I explain.
Her eyes instantly narrow.
“What?”
I nod yes.
Her eyes gather balls of fire.
“What’s the big deal?” I ask, looking back at her. She doesn’t like this news.
“How?” she asks.
“She direct messaged me.”
Her eyes look back at me coldly.
“You’re lying.”
I grin. “Why would I lie about that Becca?”
“Why would she contact you?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. But she’s still amazing.” I say with a chuckle. “She hasn’t changed at all.”
Becca is not amused.
“She would have told me if she talked to you.” she guesses.
“Well…I guess she didn’t.” I say back.
“What did you and her talk about?”
“Why does it matter?” I ask. “I can’t even talk to your friends now?”
“Not her.” she says possessively. “She’s like a sister to me, you know that.”
“I do.” I say. “That’s why I responded.”
Suddenly she is pissed off. She tosses her sandwich on the plate.
“Well that’s bullshit!”
“Becca, what is the big deal?” I ask losing patience.
“How long have you been talking to her?” she asks placing her hand on her hip.
Her expression is stern and no nonsense and quite full of dramatics.
She looks quite ridiculous.
I instantly cool down. I can’t help the laugh that escapes my lips a few seconds later.
“What the fuck is funny?” she says, shooting daggers with her eyes.
“You are.” I say gesturing to her.
“You act like I cheated on you because I talked to your best friend. It was a ten minute conversation, and over chat, you know that is not long. Calm down.”
“She didn’t tell me.” she argues. “And I don’t get why she would contact you.”
I shrug again unsure. I eat more of my sandwich.
“Did you talk about me?” she asks.
“Of course Becca. You’re the link between us, of course you were mentioned at least once.”
“Who brought me up?” she asks curiously.
I sigh, and toss my phone at her.
“Do you want to read the conversation?”
She looks down at my phone instantly.
“Please do, because this conversation is driving me crazy. I should have never even mentioned it.”
She studies my phone and then shuffles it back towards me.
“No.” she says quietly, tucking some hair behind her ear.
She sits back on her stool and picks up her sandwich.
She has moved on for some reason.
It is quiet between us for a minute, until she picks up her previous conversation.
"Tell me Harry. What's the real reason you keep this place?"
I immediately roll my eyes. I don’t understand her obsession and why it matters.
"I already told you." I say. “ And if this is your attempt at small talk, you suck at it.” I point out. “It is okay to ask me more personal questions.” I tease.
She rolls her eyes and continues.
“Why pay extra bills for a place you obviously never stay at? Is it a nostalgia thing?"
"Maybe." I say honestly. "I don't like to let go of memories. Especially the ones that changed my life." I say and purposely meet her eyes.
"I don't recall you being here that much." she says narrowing her eyes.
"Oh but when I was, I made my mark." I boast proudly.
She bites her lip to hide her smile, but I see it, deep under the darkness. This place is christened with us. We have literally made love in every room and our bedroom was our favorite place.
We kept pictures of us hanging above the bed. Mostly ones from the earlier days and a quote 'So this is love...'
And it was. The greatest love I had ever known.
"Do you want to see the bedroom?" I ask suddenly. "You haven't exactly toured the house again."
I wish she would.
I want her to see the reminders and I want, even for a second, the memories to dance across her face and I want to be there when it happens. I want to see her remember us. I want her to remember we weren’t always like this. We were good for each other once.
"I remember what it looked like." she says dryly.
I stop myself from sighing because there is no point.
She is beyond difficult.
If she would just give in and allow us to have this short moment, then maybe we really could move on. If we could just talk about everything, I could get it out of my system. All I want is to relive it and get her opinion and feelings so I can have closure. Her point of view is all I need. But instead, she keeps me stuck.
I can’t understand how we went so wrong so fast and I need to figure it out.
I know it was my career and the attention on us- but we could have made it.
You don’t build what we built, just to walk away from it.
She was and still is suppose to be my wife.
I keep trying.
"Do you remember the view?" I ask leaning on the counter. "I remembered you loved it. When I was looking at this place that was the part that sold me. I knew how much it would mean to you to be able to peer out and see the city. You should go look at it." I suggest. “It’s a nice day out.”
She takes a sip of her juice, not even looking at me.
"If I want to see a view, I’ll go out into the mountains." she says suddenly. "Can we finish though? Our conversation? I have an appointment later."
In the span of a few minutes, her attitude has completed shifted and I don’t know why. We were civil only a few minutes ago and now the Bitch is back.
"Fine." I say standing fully.
I’ll agree to this.
Maybe this is how I get the nice one back. Maybe if I pack her with good memories, this wicked witch of Becca will melt away.
"We left off in California." I remind her.
"Yeah," she agrees. "California. And we both remember. We had sex, I spent the night, we had more sex, London happened and we started dating."
"I don't think we started dating that soon." I say, ignoring her hasty answer. It is obvious she is trying to get this over with. "It's true, we started seeing each other more, but I don't think anything concrete happened until your birthday week."
"Oooh two weeks later. What a huge jump." she says sarcastically and I smile.
"You know Becca if you spent more time being nice instead of trying to be spiteful, we wouldn't be in this mess. We could have been friends the last two years."
She looks back at me and her expression is unreadable.
"We couldn't." she says. "We don't get to have the in-between and the sooner you realize that, the better."
But I do realize that. We are either everything or nothing and I’m really tired of it.
I take another bite of my sandwich and then take a sip of juice.
"I guess that quote is true then." I say.
"What quote?" she asks.
"When you’ve truly loved someone, you can't just be their friend."
She doesn't respond to my comment, but she takes me by surprise with her next question.
"When did you know you loved me?" she asks.
I smile and I instantly remember, but I can't go there yet.
"You're jumping ahead." I remind her. "Let me like you first."
"I thought you already liked me." she argues. "Seemed that way in the car."
I chuckle, thinking of the little moments and the beach. "I did like you, but I still didn't want to be with you yet."
"Well when did you want to be with me?" she asks.
I take a sip of my juice.
Here we go again.

Notes