I stretched myself out on the twin bed. I sighed in distress. This was getting out of hand. I looked across the room to the other twin bed holding my husband. It had been 2 years since we shared a bed, a kiss, a hug. After Harry's sister died he isolated himself from everyone including me. Late at night he would cry himself to bed. Eventually he started sleeping on the couch. He never got a good night sleep so we settled on selling our king bed and bought two twins.
He shifted in his sleep, probably having another nightmare. I wanted so badly to hold him, to tell him everything was going to be alright. We had talked about getting a divorce. He didn't want me to have to put up with him. I couldn't do that though. I loved him too much to just let everything go. One day, I knew one day he'd come back to me. He would show some sign of affection.
"Babe." I heard his groggy voice. Harry sat up in his bed looking at me. My heart did a little flip. I loved hearing him speak when he first woke up. His morning voice was one of my favorite things. When we first moved in together he'd wake me up every morning by singing to me. Harry had the most magical voice.
"Yes?"
"Can you . . . can you go make me some breakfast?" I sighed. I knew it would be something like that but a small part of me had hope that he would invite me into his twin bed and we could cuddle and laugh and talk about the silliest of things.
I slowly made my way out of bed and to the kitchen. I took eggs out of the fridge and began to make them.
* * *
I opened the front door to the house. Dropping my pocketbook on chair and my keys on the key rack, I called out for Harry. No response. I was exhausted and I only wanted to curl up in a little ball, cuddle my pillow and fall asleep. Something was different though tonight. Harry wasn't sat on the couch watching tv as usually.
I called his name again. No reply. I could briefly make out a noise. It sounded like crying. I approached the bedroom in which it was coming from. My eyes instantly went to Harry's bed. He wasn't there. Looking across the room I found him in my bed under the blankets crying.
"Harry..." I approached him. He stopped his sobbing. The blanket was removed and he looked up at me. His eyes were red and puffy and his face was wet from tears.
"I love you so much," he said, his breathing scattered, "and I loved her so much. I'm a mess Babe, a big fat mess. Ever since she's past I can't think straight. We were so close. And now. . . now I'm losing you. Do you know how much I want to take you every night in my arms and fall asleep listening to your heavy breathing? I'm just so scared. I can't bring myself to touch you. To hug you. To kiss you. I can't bear it. Babe, I wanna die. I don't wanna do this anymore."
I looked down at the ground for a split second trying to phrase the right words together. Tell him that he can't die. That I need him.
"Harry, in life everyone needs to take risks. Everyone needs to do things that are out of their comfort zone. You never hear anyone on there deathbed saying that they're happy they didn't take risks. You're never going to get yourself anywhere in life if you don't get out of your comfort zone. Of course, it's difficult. No one said it was easy. You have to try. Something small. You deserve a full life and you know your sister would want you to be happy."
His eyes were tearing up again. I could see it. I bit my bottom lip waiting for his next move. Slowly, his hand moved. It moved in the direction of mine. My eyes widened and my heart sped up. His shaking hand slowly grazed mine, then grabbed it. Our fingers intertwined. His breath was shaky and his eyes met mine.
"It's okay, Harry." I assured him. I sat down on the bed next to him and he looked down at our hands together. He was not crying. There was no emotion. Maybe there was, but I couldn't see it in his face. He squeezed my hand three times. I could feel my eyes tearing up.
When Harry and I went on a date one time we were walking through the fair holding hands and I squeezed his hand three times.
'What does that mean?' He asked.
'I love you.' He then smiled and squeezed my hand back three times reciprocating the feeling.
He remembered. He remembered our date. I knew that the old Harry was still there. Hidden beneath the depression there was a light. A small light that was waiting to be discovered. Waiting to be unburied. That small light held so much. It held hope, happiness, love; it held a brighter future.
I squeezed back. Three times. His eyes moved from our hands to my eyes. They stayed there for what felt like hours. His hand removed itself from mine. He took a deep breath. His eyes still remained on mine. His arm came out of the covers and before my mind could comprehend what was happening, his arms wrapped around my body. His head rested on my shoulder.
One my mind caught up with his actions my arms wrapped around him, holding him tight. I could feel wetness on my shoulder, evidence that he was crying again. I soon followed. My eyes carrying out the action that his were doing. As tears spilled down my face onto him, his hold on me tightened.
This was how it felt to be loved. This was what I'd been yearning for the past two years. He was all I wanted and now I had him.
"I love you. I love you, I love you, I love you." He mumbled over and over again. Each time gaining more feeling. It was like a car. His engine was starting up again. Slowly, but it was moving.
"Harry." He pulled away putting his hands on my shoulders. Looking me in the eyes he did something I had only seen in my dreams. He smiled. His lips curved up, his mouth gradually opening showing his teeth, making his smile bigger and finally reaching his breathtaking dimples.
It was like the sun came out. It peaked out after the big storm. It was a contagious feeling. A smile made its way onto my face as we smiled at each other, for each other because all that matter right now was each other.
