The man next to me on the plane probably thought I was having a psychotic break. I went from being calm and collected to bawling my eyes out for no apparent reason. I'd given up on my iPod hours ago. Any love song that happened to pop on instantly reminded me of Harry. The man went so far as to order a shot of Tequila and hand it to me. I'm sure he was hoping it would knock me out for the rest of the flight.
No such luck.
I felt like I wasn't even in my body. Harry had asked, almost begged, me to stay...twice. After wanting to hear him tell me he loved me for the past two weeks, I walked away when it finally happened.
Second guessing one's self is never fun. I almost had an anxiety attack once the plane finally took off knowing there was no turning back now. My phone was off and the wheels were up. I was headed for home on an 8 hour flight and I would be unreachable the entire time. There was no turning back around to ask him what he wanted or throwing myself into his arms.
I was going home whether I liked it or not.
-----------------------
By the time the plane landed I'd cried myself into exhaustion. My row mate flashed me a sympathetic look, pulled my bag down from the overhead bin and handed it to me. I gave him a weepy smile and turned to walk out.
Actually, trudged out is more like it.
My feet felt heavy. My legs felt like tree stumps. By the time I made it to baggage claim my bag was sitting alone on the edge, waiting to be claimed. I grabbed it and pulled it out to my car in a daze.
I called Anne to tell her I was on my way to the house. She sounded uneasy which told me she'd spoken to Harry. I could tell she was trying to be as supportive as possible though. She told me she and Lucy were at a friend's house making gingerbread cookies. Once they were finished she'd bring Lucy back to me. Which actually sounded perfect. It would give me a chance to cry myself into a puddle, wallow in misery for a bit and then pull myself together just in time for my daughter to come home and be none the wiser about her mother's emotional state.
I didn't even know how I'd driven home when I pulled into the garage. It felt like I'd just left the airport and the house was almost 2 hours away. All I'd done the entire way was think about all the different ways I had screwed up any chance Harry and I had to be happy. I came to the conclusion that I should've been born with a warning label.
I felt trepidation as I glanced up at the house. This place used to be my refuge. It was my soft place to land after a rough day. It was where Lucy, Harry and I were a family. It was where I was loved and accepted no matter what I did. It was where Harry and I had started to build a life together.
It didn't feel like my home anymore.
It felt cold and distant. Just a pile of bricks and glass that held my belongings. Any random building on any random street in any random city. I sat there, staring at the blank wall in front of me. Was it possible to feel your heart breaking inside your own chest? I felt like mine was. I knew it was beating, but it didn't feel the same anymore. I felt hollow.
I looked over at my bag sitting on the passenger seat. Eventually I would have to get out of this car and now seemed as good a time as any. When my key slid in the door and I heard the door unlatch, I broke down. I couldn't help it anymore. I'd spent so long holding everything in, it was all coming out in deep sobs.
I went to my knees, my belongings spilling out across the wood floor as I leaned against the wall and let the despair take me over. Were Harry and I over? The pain in my chest said yes but the hope in my head said no. We fought so hard to get where we were. Our relationship had been presented with hurdle after hurdle and we'd overcome all of it. It seemed a little too easy that this was going to break us apart. But isn't that how situations like this happened? One small thing that snowballed into a bigger thing and before you knew it your whole life was turned upside down.
