Because It's Killing Me

Part 1

“You ready to go?”

He throws on his shirt and fastens the towel around his waist. I am clearly not ready because I am still laying on the towel, enjoying the vitamin D soaking in my veins. I look up at him and shield my eyes with my hand.

“Not really. Why do you wanna go?”

He seemed distant all of a sudden. He just shrugged and avoided my eyes. We had been at the pool for a couple of hours now, and suddenly he is acting strange. He was just quietly sitting on his phone a few minutes ago—now he wants to up and leave. He begins throwing things in his bag.

“Well I’m going back up to the room,” he mumbles grabbing the suntan lotion and putting his sunglasses back on to shield his eyes. Something was up.

“Yea, hold on.” I say, easing myself up from the lounge chair.

He didn’t give me a lot of time to pull my stuff together. He stood under the umbrella, folding his arms over his chest while his stuff covered his body. His face was unreadable but if I had to guess, he was more upset than mad. Did I do something?

After I pack all of my things, he is walking away before I even turn around.

“Hey, wait up,” I say trying to catch up to him. I grab his arm and he allows me to lace my fingers through his. Okay, so he definitely is not mad at me, in particular. But why was he being so weird?

We step through the hotel doors and the cool air-conditioning hits my face. I am feeling the beginnings of a bad sunburn coming on; I touch my face and it has that leathery feel to it. It is even starting to hurt a little. As we wait for the elevator, I tug on his hand.

“Hey, my face hurts,” I say with a small, coy smile, clearly leaving it open for him to reply with, “Your face hurts? Well, it’s killin’ me.” (He always took part in my bad jokes—encouraged and appreciated them by coming up with a few of his own.) I try to look in his face and his eyes only flicker to mine for a second. He gives a half-hearted chuckle and stares broodily forward again as the elevator doors open.

My face falls as I step on with him.

There is another man who gets on the elevator with us. I press the floor that Harry and I are on and politely ask what floor the man would like. The elevator begins its slow descent upwards. I turn to face Harry again and his gaze remains firmly on the elevator doors in front of us. I stand shoulder to shoulder with him. Worry is evident on my face as my brow slightly furrows in confusion. This elevator is way too quiet for me.

Harry notices me staring at him and he finally looks into my eyes. My face asks the question “What’s wrong?”  and I raise my eyebrows at him, waiting for some acknowledgement of my concern. We have known each other so long that we can communicate through facial expressions. His expression softens a little as his cheeks tug up in a sad smile. This smile is only for my benefit as if to say, “I’m alright,” but I’m not buying it.

I cock my head and wait for him to give me a real smile to let me know if he is okay. He just merely shakes his head and casts his eyes down. The silent elevator ride continues.