Soon, My Friend (Currently Editing)

Selfish dot

The next day I woke up by Harry's voice. He sat down on the bed end and held a white cup with a picture of the hotel's logo on it. It was burning hot tea he had between his hands.

"Good morning." he said. "It's soon nine o'clock. Oh, please don't tell me you've planned to stay here all day?"

"I usually get up late if I can, y'know," I replied and sat up glaring at him.

"..and I cannot talk to anyone until it has gone one hour."

"Oh. Well, you're more than welcome to do that tomorrow, but our cars will be here soon." he answered.

He paused, looked me from tip to toe once, before he kind of discovered that he still held the teacup in his hands.

"D'you want this one, or what?"

"I always drink coffee in the morning..." I said scrunching my nose. "But I'll have it!"

I received the hot cup and took a drink of the tea. A little too strong, regular Old Gray, I could tell by the bitter taste on it.

Harry walked around the bed and pulled down his suitcase onto the floor. It wasn't until then I noticed that the dress I'd wore hung on a hanger attached to the cabinet in front of me. Next to it hung Harry's yesterday's outfit in a dress bag he had not yet closed.

"You got me undressed?" I asked him and swallowed down more tea. He didn't look at me while he fiddled with his suitcase.

"Yeah... You were fast asleep, but I figured you couldn't sleep with your dress on, it didn't look that comfortable, so..." he replied.

I nodded, but he didn't see it.

"Good. Christ, I'm rather hangover. Can't really remember anythin', I was so fucking drunk. Did I speak to people - did I talk to the other boys?"

"You did." Harry said, no smile on his face.

My eyebrows jerked up and I sat up in the bed.

Harry continued: "Like.. I thought it was sweet in the beginning, like, you just told 'em you were happy to see them and congratulated Louis and stuff, but then, during the desserts, Lou came up to me and told me you were crying outside."

Harry turned around and looked at me. His face was as straight as the zipper on the suitcase. I gasped.

"What?! I can't remember any crying?" I said, since he didn't say anything more. Then he nodded.

"Lou, and I mean crew-Lou, Lou Teasdale, said she'd found you outside talking to yourself with a bottle of white wine - "

"But I hate white wine!"

"You hate a lot of things, Billie, but you still embrace 'em."

The steam rising from my teacup took on angular, twisting shapes. It roiled up to my face. I cleared my throat feeling Harry's eyes on me, but I kept starung at my reflection in the tea.

"I remember you were mad at me." I muttered.

Silence.

"Like, you were really mad at me, actually. Did I say some shit during the party? Or.. Did I tell anyone why I was crying?"

I talked about yesterday as if it was another Billie we discussed - as if it somehow was June and not me.

Harry sat down in the chair in the corner of the room. It seemed a little like he was my therapist, my psychologist..? It was the way he sat on, his attitude.

"Erm. You didn't say much until we started walking back here. I mean, you said a few things about the wedding, but I'm sure you didn't mean to be cruel. Lou said that she was worrying about you. You.. you told her you're pregnant..?"

Pregnant.

Pregnant?! How idiotic is it possible to be?

I wasn't fucking pregnant. Of course not. I wasn't. I was cocksure that I wasn't. I was on the pill, I made sure I swallowed it every day, I never had my period, I had full control.

What signs of pregnancy while you're drunk can you get, except the thought of being it?

Oh, how embarrassing. I had ruined everything. No wonder Harry was confused and so angry at me. I deserved nothing else.

I told him that it was just something I'd made up, I must have been mad, I supposed. Perhaps I felt like an outsider. I must have been desperate for someone's attention, maybe I thought that saying I was pregnant was what it took to still be a part of his life.

Harry got pissed. Not properly pissed as most people are, but still pissed.

He called me a fool. Said I couldn't make up things like that. I didn't have to say such things to feel that I mattered. And then he was quiet for long time. I felt so bad and stayed silent too. And then he came over to the bed side and hugged me for a quite a while with the long arms of his and his big head against my forehead. He apologized for calling me a fool. Said he was sorry for making me feel left out, said he was sorry for being the reason why I talked such nonsense.

But I didn't feel left out, I didn't. I just felt like a cunt, behaving shitty and embarrassing at the wedding. I was so ashamed, I didn't know what to say to him. So I remained mute.

I worked a few shifts in the pub the following days. It was full of guests and I became more and more exhausted. I stressed a lot finding out what to do with my life now. How would I combine the job with Harry while studying? And what was I supposed to study? Should I even study at all?

Everything felt so heavy in my head, I was also fucking pissed at myself - why couldn't I just do as any other young person - choose an education and get my ass in gear? I had a lot of money, I had potential, I could be a doctor, a lawyer or politician if I wanted. But I was too lazy, too spineless, too scared.

Harry and I texted each other, but during the last days the mood was colder. Well, not colder, like, we weren't on our way down any hill, but the messaging became less and less frequent.

It wasn't like what did you observe on your way to work today or I miss you so much that I don't know where I am.

It was more like.. Have you had a nice day and received answers like yes, I'll call you tomorrow morning.

And he did call me, but I slept, and our voicemails crossed each other and it was difficult. He was so busy. I travelled by tube alone at night and stared at myself in the black reflection across from me. I looked different. It wasn't me. I tried to smile at myself in the reflection - looking for some kind of hope - but then this creepy, strange lad thought I smiled at him and I was frightened, for some reason.

I'd come across creepy smiles before. I used to shake it off and carry on with my daydreaming.

But this time it ended up with me getting off at an earlier stop, just to get away from the rattling sound of the carriage and the rending voice that kept telling me to please mind the gap. And get away from the creepy guy.

The music I had on my phone was a hassle, I couldn't listen to it. I walked far in the summer light through the streets and caught myself wishing I wasn't here. I wanted to wake up in Harry's bed, asking him if we could go to Brazil and stay for a couple of years.

I began to transform into a selfish dot and I found myself thinking: he has so much money, he can afford to travel into space with me and die in my arms. Will he die before me or vice versa - are we even going to be together for that long? Probably not.