The ending of Sarah and Harry's story, will they or won't they?
It has been five years since Harry and Sarah have seen each other. Sarah is now 29 and she is happily living in New York and pursuing her career. Harry is now 30 and he is living in Ho...
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I drop the journal onto the floor, my heart falling deep down with it. The realization of what I've just read sinks in, mt breathing laboring as I'm trying my best not to break out in hysterics. It's almost impossible though because all I can seem to recite in my mind is how Clair screamed for help but no one helped her. Maybe it wasn't her that wasn't strong enough.
I reread the entry over and over, my heart never numbing to the pain. I feel all of it, the way it stings through my veins and shocks at the tips of my fingers. Is Clair right? Did I really never know her at all?
I walk around in circles through the apartment, wrapping my head around it all. There was loss and pain that none of us knew about, that none of us could even manage to remedy. She didn't want us knowing for a reason, and I'm starting to wonder why she never wanted to be saved by any of us.
The pain that runs deep with assault isn't unfamiliar to me, and these days I've gotten to know it like the back of my hand. But I finally let out the truth, finally released some of that burden. Clair never told anyone, except for the one time she did and no one helped her. She was so discouraged that she never asked anyone again, and she never wanted to. This dark cloud lived within her until the end.
When my mind begins to get restless, I jump into the shower, the warm water relaxing my muscles. I stay underneath the water for a long time, just hoping to wash the pain away. Maybe Harry was right; maybe we never should have taken that journal. What if I can't handle knowing?
Halfway through my shower, I hear Harry calling out for me in his apartment. I don't respond right away, because I simply can't bear the thought of him hearing how loudly I'm sobbing into the shower walls. I don't want him reading the journal.
"I'm in the shower," I call out. Harry walks into the bathroom, a warm smile on his face. I muster up a mirroring one, hoping that he can't see right through me. I'm hoping my eyes aren't red with stinging pain. If he can decipher it, then I'll just disregard it and tell him I got shampoo in my eyes.
Harry glances over my features, his eyes catching mine. He exhales long and hard, making me wonder what he's about to say. "You read the journal didn't you?" Harry asks as he takes his suit off. I keep my eyes on him, watching how he takes off every article of clothing one-by-one.
I move to the side as Harry steps into the shower with me, his face going right beneath the water. It cascades over his skin, pooling around at my ankles. I watch as he runs his hands through his soaking wet hair, some of the water spraying onto me.
"I glued those pages together for a reason, Sarah," Harry says when he turns to me. My mouth falls open slightly, confused as to when he could've done all of that. I'd spent all of my time with him since we'd left Rhode Island, all of the time except for when I was reading the manuscript.
He'd been in the bedroom that whole time, the journal right in his suit jacket. When I'd been reading his engagement letter, he was reading about how Clair was never going to make it through. He'd known about it, but he didn't say anything, not until I'd inevitably found it.
