Race

Chapter 30

*Trigger warning: Mention of suicide and bipolar disorder.*

I had dropped by the bookshop again, quickly, to explain the situation to Natalie and pick up my bag. She hadn't been surprised when I had explained that the guy who had shown up at the store had been Harry. I guessed that it had been apparent from my reaction that this was indeed the person I had told her so much about, the one that had broken my heart so violently that I had doubted the damage could ever be fixed. To some extent I had hoped she would tell me to finish working my shift, to stay the last three hours. It would have given me the time to clear my mind, to reconsider my decision, see everything in a more rational light. She hadn't, though. Instead she had told me to go home and talk to Harry. So I had. I had gotten into Harry's new black Jeep and had navigated him to my new place.

And here we were. Harry was seated on my grey couch and I was sat across the room, in my pastel pink armchair next to the window. He had tried to pull me down next to him when he had sat down but I had forcefully extracted my hand from his grip and picked the seating option the farthest away from him, feeling safer this way.

Neither of us said a word. Ever since the scene in the alley, we had been completely quiet, apart from the directions I had given him in the car. The mug of tea I had made him was still steaming in his hands and he was looking around, fixing his eyes on random objects in my appartment like my white bookshelf, the lightly shriveled peonies on my table and my grey carpet, pretending to be interested in how I had furnished my home.

I, on the other hand, just stared at him, unwaveringly. The image of his broad figure on my couch seemed unreal to me, as if dreamed up. I distinctly felt like my life consisted of two different worlds. The first one was my past world, it had included my old job, my old place and Harry. The new one was the present, the here, the now with my new jobs, my new place and my new friends. And this exact moment both of them were colliding, leaving me with an intense feeling of uneasiness. Never had I anticipated that one day, he would be sitting here, on this couch. I had thought him gone for good. This image in front of me was like a memory, a faded one, put into a new context that it couldn't possibly be put in. How can a memory sit in front of you, in a place that hadn't yet existed when the memory had been made? Harry sitting in front of me was like looking at a picture that has been stretched or edited in a way that makes it look inherently wrong, causing you a severe headache.

I felt my head throb painfully and decided it would be best to get this over with, hear him out and then explain that he had to leave and go on with my life as usual.

"Why?" I asked, knowing full well that even without specifying, he would know what I was talking about.

He seemed to be relieved that I had finally said something, his gaze, previously directed at the lamp hung over our heads, now fixed on me. His eyes were still slightly red from his tearshed earlier and his curls were flattened where his hat had pushed them down earlier.

He licked his pink lips nervously, something I had only seen him do when he was about to say more than the usual lazy answers and remarks that normally left his tongue. "Where do I start?" He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his temples. "My mother had a younger sister. Her name was Elena and she was the most wonderful person you could ever meet. She had the brightest and loveliest laugh and spread happiness and positivity wherever she went. She was younger than my mother and was working towards getting her PhD in Medicine when I was about 6. Everyone knew she had a bright future ahead of her. She was talented, smart and lovable. I loved her. She was my favourite person on earth apart from my mother. And while every single one of our relatives seemed to favour Niall, the sweet, polite blonde angel, over me, the rowdy boy with unruly hair, she always prefered me. We were thick as thieves, we played pranks on other family members, stole food when Mum wasn't looking, made fun of Niall behind his back when he once again tried to impress all the adults with his knowledge and choice of words." The fondness in his voice was palpable and his eyes were once again swimming with tears.