Page 112 of Revelry
She was right. I needed to speak to someone. I took out my phone and messaged Neil to see if he was free for a last-minute appointment. He replied that he had some time tomorrow, so I took the slot.
“I’m heading out, Harriet. You can go too,” I called, getting my bag and shutting down my computer. I was only sitting here sulking, not exactly saving the world.
“Yah? You sure?”
I chuckled to myself at the wonder in her voice. “Yah, Harriet, yah.”
“You’re the coolest, Dr. Wilder.”
I said goodnight and then went home. As I pulled onto the cul-de-sac, I spotted the lights on in Gertrude’s house. I parked on the driveway and hovered outside, one leg over the hedge separating our driveways, indecision flitting inside me. I wanted to see her and apologize but other than saying sorry, I wasn’t sure what else I wanted to say to her.
Seeing Neil tomorrow would ground me and give me the chance to work through some of my issues, I would wait until then.
Storing my shoes and bag, I headed into the pristine kitchen, opened the fridge and pulled out the last remaining container of her ice cream. I grabbed the lone spoon in the rack and popped the Tupperware tub open. It was two thirds empty and I was trying like hell to make it last as long as possible, to savor it like I should have savored her.
I had one mouthful, closing my eyes as her creativity flared to life over my tongue, my tastebuds tantalized by her love. I wasn’t kidding when I said you could taste the love in her ice cream, itwas my favorite flavor. I had another mouthful and then with a reluctant, mournful sigh, I returned the container to the freezer. I estimated that I had another five days’ worth before I ran out. I didn’t even want to contemplate living without it.
Living without her.
The thought stopped me cold. I couldn’t imagine her not being in my life, but I also couldn’t think like that. Whatever it was between us, it wouldn’t work out. I thought I’d made progress with my OCD but I was wrong, I’d spiraled ever since seeing my father again and my fight with Gertrude. I wouldn’t trap someone into being with me while I was like this and I certainly couldn’t contemplate raising a child with all my idiosyncrasies. I would never want them to feel the way I did growing up, unloved and unwanted because I couldn’t control my impulses.
Gertrude was destined to have a family, full of wild children with wild curls. I’d seen her interacting with kids at the fair and loved how she indulged them. How she would indulgeourchildren if we had them, the image pushing its way into my brain and refusing to leave.
Ugh, this was all pointless to think about and would only make me sad.
I worked out until I could barely lift my arms and then went to shower before bed. I stood under the spray, squeezing shower gel onto my hands and thinking about when we showered together. I missed our shower chats and sitting on the toilet lid while she babbled away about anything and everything, listening to her chatter.
I hadn’t wanted her to fix her shower really. I just panicked over how deep my feelings for her had grown and how much I’d grown to rely onher.It scared me that I was relying on someone again, someone who could hurt me and abuse my care, like my mom had.
But I’d witnessed relationships recently, the friendships I had made with the guys, Kat and Jack, and my relationship with Gertrude. None of these showed any evidence of an unhealthy attachment or reliance on the other. It was an even trade, we all looked after each other and were there for each other. It wasn’t a burden or a requirement, it was freely given because we wanted to.
I lay awake that night, listening with bated breath for any sound through the wall behind me. Any sign of her, a breath, a sigh, anything. But it was silent. I gave in and knocked one knuckle against the wall, hoping she’d hear me and respond but after waiting an endless amount of time, I decided she didn’t want to talk to me. I didn’t blame her.
I was heartbroken that I’d lost my best friend and, I feared, the only woman to ever steal my heart.
*
“What was the reason you wanted to see me?” Neil asked the next day when I sat down in his office.
I fiddled with the cuff on my shirt, mulling over my words and unsure how to put them together. Neil had always been patient with me, knowing I would choose my words and release them when I was ready. Except for some reason they wouldn’t come. I stood up and paced, then went to the window and looked out over Main Street.
There she was.
Looking both sweet and sexy in her oversized purple sweatshirt, tucked into light blue jeans and her lilac cowgirl boots decorated her feet. She was outside the art gallery Cathy owned and staring into it with a curious expression on her face. I couldn’t say how long she stood there, or how long I watched her ebony curls blowing gently in the breeze.
After a while, I realized Neil had come to look out the window with me. He shook his head.
“You blew it, didn’t you?”
I looked back to Gertrude and nodded, not able to voice it.
“Self-sabotage will destroy your life,” Neil spoke softly.
His words hit their mark and my shoulders slumped in as I stared longingly at Gertrude then watched her walk away, back to her pink Beetle parked down the street. I was exhausted, and emotional, my words shaky when I said, “I don’t want to do that anymore.”
“Come with me,” Neil replied, pushing away from the window and grabbing his keys.
My brow furrowed in confusion. “What?”
