REDAMANCY [h.s. au]

06

"To sense, to hope, and to
be disappointed."
- Henrik Ibsen

⭑Harry⭑

"Why didn't your friend come?" Ivy presses with confused innocence.

We walk hand in hand down the dimly lit street toward our flat after getting birthday ice cream. The London night is extra crisp tonight, smelling of cold fresh air and rain on the pavement. I've got Ivy bundled up in a purple coat and the sparkly beanie that's become a permanent fixture on her head since I bought it for her last week.

I try not to contort my face into the sour look that it wants to express, not wanting to alarm my daughter-however much the disappointment sits heavy in the pit of my stomach.

She's only three and, while she is a very intelligent kid, she won't understand the complexities of the situation. I opt for a vague statement that's neither the truth or a lie. "She had other things to do tonight," I tell Ivy, trying to sound as convincing as possible.

"Well what's she doing?" Ivy prods much to my dismay with her sweet voice.

I love her curiosity, I really do, but right now I don't want to be reminded that I began my twenty-ninth birthday by being disappointed that my ex didn't come get ice cream with my daughter and I. And now Ivy has my mind racing with the plethora of possibilities pertaining to what Holland is up to-what is she doing, who is she with.

She's not mine to think about, but I can't stop my thoughts from running to her. That's where they naturally go.

"I'm not sure," I admit with the realization that I want nothing more than to know what she's doing, to have my foot in the door that is her life.

The sad truth is that I know nothing about her life now. And that thought has the pit in my stomach flush with the familiar pang-like ache.

Every time the ice cream shop door opened and it wasn't the willowy, blonde figure I'd hoped for, the defeat would nestle deeper and deeper. Not that I expected her to come. Still, there was a shred of unyielding hope that she'd make an appearance.

I don't blame her for not coming. I deserve the punishment-the burning cold that rolls off her like a poisonous mist and makes it's way to me. Nothing she's done has given me even the slightest inkling that there's a chance of rekindling, or simply even becoming friends again. But still, I held out hope that a part of her still harbors something besides the dripping disdain for me.

If this is a glimpse into how the rest of twenty nine is going to go, I'm in for a grueling year.

I won't submit to the defeat quite yet, though.

How many more birthdays will I have before the forlorn longing tied to Holland has surpassed? I'm honestly not sure if it will ever pass. I think it's made too comfy of a home in me and won't leave. I wouldn't know how to exist without traces of her imbedded in me, anyways.

Ivy and I approach our flat, the dim light from inside glowing in the darkness. I'm expecting a quiet rest of the night, putting her down for bed soon and then it's just me and a bottle of red to finish off maybe the worst birthday yet.

Standing there in front of my door is my mum, sister, and my best friend, Sam. A white box sits perched in my sisters hands and Sam's got two bottles of champagne resting in the crook of his elbow like he's cradling a baby. Smiles decorate their bright faces that are staring right at me.