“Look at you,” he whistled, always the charmer.
“Hi Max,” I said, leaning in to kiss his rosy cheeks and hug him. He squeezed me so tightly my back cracked against his thick arms. In a strange way I loved the hurt from his hug, it meant it was still authentic, that I was still his family although I’d lost the physical person connecting us.
Max led me inside and after hugging Julie in a similar manner we sat at the kitchen table as she finished making us sandwiches. After serving them, she sat down by my side and put both her hands on my face. “It’s wonderful seeing you, sweetheart. I know it’s harder here, but it’s good too, right?”
I wasn’t sure if I agreed with her yet, all I saw throughout the house were moments where Aaron grabbed my face just as tenderly, having inherited his mother’s kindness. My eyes watered a bit, and continued throughout the rest of lunch, but I nodded, feeling different in their home. The house hadn’t changed, but I had and still was. It was as though I was slowly watching the memories from the past as home videos that would always be special, but wouldn’t continue into my future. I would only see them in the movie of my mind, no longer living that life.
Overall, eating lunch there wasn’t as terrible as I thought it’d be. Max told me about the car shop he still owned, and that business was doing well. They asked me how teaching was going, and I spoke about the upcoming semester and the play. I asked them how they were doing.
“Good. Each day becomes easier and harder in a way. You know that.”
“I do,” I nodded. “I was going to bring the ring again, but I decided I want to keep it, if that’s all right.”
“You better,” Max said, his eyes narrowed. “He wanted that for you.”
“I’m going to, it’s part of us.”
After a silent beat, Julie asked, “What changed your mind?” She sensed a story behind it since I’d been so adamant about returning it in the past.
I shrugged. “No matter what happens in my life, Aaron is and will always be part of it. I want the ring to symbolize that.”
“Good, that’s what he’d want.”
I looked down at my half eaten tuna melt, too distracted by the conversation and heaviness of our setting to eat. Max was watching me with such focus that I had to look up because I felt his gaze.
“Have you met someone?” he calmly spit out. He’d always been blunt.
“Sort of,” I blushed. “I’ve met someone who gives me hope and accepts me.”
He smiled that Santa-like grin again and grabbed my hand. “Ellie, be happy…for yourself and for him.”
“I’m trying.”
∞
I drove straight to the cemetery after lunch and went to visit Aaron. Whenever I came home, I made an effort to see him and put out new flowers for him. I never really believed that he was there, though, I just visited out of habit and lived with the idea that Aaron was all around me. Once I had placed the flowers in the vase, I stood there for a second and looked at the inscription his parents had placed. “Aaron— Our son, Ellie’s love, and everyone’s friend.”
They were nice enough to include me in it, forever sealing me as their son’s only love. We were each other’s first significant others and first of everything else, too. We were supposed to be each other’s lasts but it seemed life had other plans for us. Everyone had annoyingly asked me why I came home, and as I stared at his tomb it dawned on me that it was to say goodbye.
I had no plans to forget Aaron, or to stop visiting, but I became aware that my heart was healing, growing, and that it had found someone else to make it beat again. As I sat there for a while, I silently told Aaron that he would always be mine, and when it started raining I took it as a sign that he heard me. He was telling me to stop moping and go home, not to my parents’ house, but to London. I could actually picture him saying it as I drove away and looked back once more through the rear view mirror.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
Since I’d be leaving the following night, I spent Tuesday evening packing my bags with everything but essentials. Each time I thought about going back to London or seeing Rhys, my heart soared and I could hardly contain myself. Being with my family was the sincerest comfort, but it was no longer the home I needed, only in my heart. After dinner with my parents, who then went out to a movie, I returned to my room and obsessively checked my phone.
Rhys: Don’t forget, 7:00 p.m. your time.
In the previous twenty-four hours, I imagined what his face would look like upon picking me up, and the thought of it left my stomach floating and dropping repeatedly. I knew that if his face expressed joy when he saw me, then it meant he had really missed me. His face never lied and was so closely attached to his emotions. But at the same turn, Rhys was an actor and used his face to lie for a living, so I wasn’t sure if I could believe his expressions alone. The possibility that Rhys could seem his truest self around me, only for it to have been an act, turned me into a self-conscious mess.
But looking forward to his hug that was sure to happen, the way it would feel to have his blue eyes gaze upon mine, my face, and even my body, kept me positive. His look did things to me. It made me feel like the only person in the world; I had been the only person in my world, but with Rhys it wasn’t because I was lonely. It was because he saw only me.
I answered his text.
Me: I’ve got the channel on already. I won’t miss it.
Rhys: Okay, good. We’ll chat later. I have to go shower… I can’t wait to see you.
I didn’t reply because I’d heard the dryer beep and didn’t want to have to iron my clothes. I ran downstairs, folded it all, and brought it back up as the segment was starting. When Rhys’ face came onto the screen I sighed. I actually freaking sighed at how beautiful he looked. He was dressed in a suit and skinny tie, sitting across from an interviewer that was leaning desperately close. He seemed reserved as she introduced him, and it was funny to watch his rare shyness appear. I had become used to his confident persona, the comfort in which he held himself, but he didn’t seem that way there. Obviously interview Rhys wasn’t the same Rhys I saw on a daily basis.
They discussed upcoming films he was working towards and then he brought up the play.
“I was lucky enough to work with Shakespearean experts at the university. Their dedication made sure we’re true to Shakespeare. I’m indebted to them.” He smiled cockily at the interviewer, a young blonde with far too much make-up. She smiled emptily, clearly uninterested in Shakespeare and changed the subject.
“Well, that’s great Rhys. Now, you’re one of Britain’s sexiest men. All your female fans want to know are you free or is there a lucky girl in your life? Careful, now!” she joked. “You may break the hearts of millions with your words.”
She began laughing falsely and it was so forced it made my mouth fill with a bitter taste. But Rhys laughed off her personal question, an obvious coping mechanism he had developed after years of people prying into his life. I watched on edge, terrified to hear his answer. If nothing happened between us, I could deal with that. I’d live and move on, maybe even stay friends with him. But to lose him to another girl, to know for certain his heart was never even close to being mine? That would kill me, and all the progress I’d made. It would destroy my revived hope.
I sat on the edge of my bed and clutched the covers. Unsure of which answer I’d prefer, which one would be best for me, I listened with complete focus.
“I’m currently single,” he paused, biting his lip and looking down. “But there is someone I met a few months back. I’m hoping she’ll take me off the market. She’s phenomenal. Sorry ladies!” And then he looked straight at the camera and smiled. It was a beautiful smile, but I found it aggravating and hypocritical.
That was not what I wanted to hear. Definitely not. Someone he met months ago? We’d only met three weeks before that and he’d been doing nothing but leading me on the whole time. Or worse than that, he’d been my friend exactly like he claimed to be, and I’d a
ssumed more.
“God you are the biggest fool,” I said to myself. I let myself fall for Rhys Edwards, and was no better than all the girls who obsessed over his characters. I continued staring at his grin that broke my heart and shattered my hope, and realized he probably had no idea. I thought that by opening up, I had made it clear things were different, that I was different with him. But I was just an idiot for assuming things could be simple, especially with him. I’d always been confident, and after everything I considered myself strong, but those words made me weak again, resentful even. My phone went off just as the channel went to commercial.
Rhys: What did you think? :)
I shut off the television, put my phone on do not disturb, and left my room to avoid the temptation to check it every five minutes.
∞
I did everything possible to keep myself from checking my phone. I tried staying downstairs. I showered, checked some work emails, and had dinner with my parents. But the only thing on my mind was my cell and Rhys’ words that made me look and feel stupid. By 10:00 p.m. I was too tired to avoid my bed, so I went upstairs and read his messages, guaranteeing that I wouldn’t sleep that night.
Rhys: Ellie?
Rhys: Hope you were able to see it. I understand if you were busy or forgot.
Rhys: I’m assuming you fell asleep. Rest well. I’ll call you tomorrow.
Since I’d had two glasses of wine at dinner, much to the questioning glances of my parents, I was able to pass right out. I cried a little before bed and that helped too, making my eyes sleepy and allowing me to release a little of the shame and humiliation I held.
Somewhere in the middle of the night I awoke to use the bathroom and curiosity got the best of me. I checked my phone to see that he had called me and left a message. I sat up in the darkness of my room, wondering if it was something I really wanted to hear, if I should. But I tortured myself despite my doubts and pressed play. The sound of his voice immediately ignited my heartache and irritation, yet I craved hearing its tones and inflections; his adorable accent wrecked me
“Ellie, I tried texting you a few times. Just wanted to make sure you’re okay.” He paused. “You’ve left me a bit nervous, and I don’t know when you get in tomorrow morning…” another pause. “I missed talking to you last night… I’m going to my interviews at BBC and Sky, hope to hear from you soon.”
His continuous pauses convinced me that he was either unaware of my feelings for him, or he was clueless that his words had hurt and led me on. It was hard not to notice the nerves in his voice, the distant distraction it held.
I regretted listening to it. Hearing him hurt my entire body and I was left uncertain of his concern, not sure if it was real or synthetic. What left me most upset was I had asked him about his relationship status early on, and he said there was no one. Why would he lie?
Perhaps he wanted to stay private, because although he called me his friend, he liked controlling how much he would share. Maybe the relationship happened recently and he hadn’t had a chance to explain it, or maybe I didn’t merit an explanation. I’d been the one constantly telling him that he didn’t owe me anything, and then he did exactly what I said. Could I really fault him for that? Yes, I could. I had opened my heart, platonically, and romantically, and he couldn’t even be honest? After all my frankness.
I decided against my better judgment to text him, hoping that he’d give me reprieve. Hoping he would take the hint.
Me: Hey, everything is fine. Been busy. I don’t need a ride anymore, so no worries. I may take a different flight.
I wasn’t lying when I mentioned taking another flight. Right after I texted him I looked up flights on my phone and for a significant chunk of money I was able to switch my flight from 10:00 p.m. to 6:00 p.m. He replied a couple of times but I ignored him until after breakfast, when I returned to my room. The first one was immediately after mine, giving me suspicion that he’d been waiting for me to message.
Rhys: Hey, I’m on my way to BBC now, can I call you after please? Why the change in plans?
An hour later he sent another.
Rhys: Are my messages going through?
He tried calling after that one, but didn’t leave a message.
Rhys: I’m heading to Sky now. I’m worried about you… You’d let me know if something was wrong, right?
The image of Rhys holding his phone, dying to hear from me, caused a mixture of hope and confusion. I put my phone deep into my purse and left with my parents for the airport, hoping that the sooner I got back, the better. My dad could tell something was wrong. I had such positivity surrounding me over the last few days and it was suddenly vacuumed and noticeably gone. But they had no problem taking me earlier after I’d lied about work needing me before the play. My mother smirked, clearly thinking that I was rushing off to Rhys. I hadn’t told her what happened, keeping my shame close to the vest and guilt set in as I hugged them tightly at the airport.
With tears in my eyes and disappointment washing over me, I enjoyed my parents’ embrace knowing it would be a while before my return. “Call me when you get home, okay?” my mother asked. I nodded and turned toward security.
I knew I would regret leaving suddenly, but it didn’t stop me. Even sitting outside the gate made me feel better. The new semester would bring much needed distraction and I was looking forward to occupying myself and forgetting him. Before my flight took off, I emailed John from my phone letting him know I’d arrive in London the following day and would call him once I settled in. Surprisingly, I didn’t have any messages from Rhys. He must have given up. After a glass of wine, I ordered one more and slept for the rest of the flight.
∞
Arriving in London as the day began was difficult. For me it was the end of an awful day back home, but everyone else was starting with new hope, a new small beginning. Thankfully I’d slept the entire flight, and it helped me get through my groceries and unpacking. My flat felt less homey, maybe because I’d been in the comfort of my parents’ house, but likely because I had let something in that wouldn’t be coming back. It felt like a sad combination of the two, leaving me empty like a balloon slowly deflating after a party and especially lonely. I forced myself to go for a run, and then regretted it when I fell in the park from running too fast. My knee got banged up and I limped the whole way home, angry that my thoughts of him were causing clumsy bodily harm.
I found it cynical that Rhys and I were discussing my unrequited affections for James, and how terrible it could be, only to find myself in a similar situation. Was he really clueless enough to not realize that he was doing the same thing to me? It seemed that karma was paying me back for hurting James, even though I hadn’t refused him with that intent. Every thought I had made less sense than the prior one and as I turned on the TV to distract myself, his face came on the news.
It was a clip from his BBC interview the day before and he looked so charmingly handsome, so relatable. I missed his eyes on me, told myself it wasn’t my fault that I fell for him, that I couldn’t help it. Watching him on TV felt like he was in my apartment, so I pitifully enjoyed his presence until I became angry again and turned it off. I fell asleep on the couch.
By the time I awoke, showered, and served myself dinner it was after 7:00 p.m. and I was starving. I ate in front of the television because my dining room table felt too formal for just me. It felt emptier after having shared it with him. Halfway through my pathetic TV dinner there was a loud, aggressive knock on the door and it startled me to where I’d dropped my fork covered in marinara sauce.
“Shit,” I complained to myself quietly, and then I heard his voice.
“Ellie, are you home?” I didn’t answer, each muscle in my body tensing. “Hello? I know you’re here, John told me you landed last night.”
I made a mental note to kill John the next time I saw him. Getting up slowly, I crept towards the door and saw him through the peephole. He looked exhausted, his eyes surrounded by dark circles and his
lids heavy as he leaned against my door frame. I jumped when he spoke again, “Ellie! I need to talk to you. I’m not sure why you’re shutting me out, or if something has happened to you…please?”
He seemed so sincere, so concerned and I almost allowed him to convince me. I almost pitied him, until I remembered that he lied or kept information from me when I’d been nothing but open. And he knew how hard that was for me. Rhys was looking down at his shoes, his hands in his pockets and then he looked straight at the peephole. I took a step back, only to remember he couldn’t see me. But the way he was looking at it, it’s as if he knew I was there, watching, refusing to let him into my home and heart.
“Listen,” he said a little quieter. “If you’re there, please know I was rather looking forward to picking you up.”
My neighbor, Mrs. Phillips, an elderly woman that lived alone, came out to look at him. He turned back towards her, her jaw dropping in disbelief at whom she was staring at.
“Hello Ma’am,” he nodded. “Sorry about the noise, I’m leaving now.”
Rhys turned back toward my door and pulled out an envelope from his jacket. After writing something on it, he slipped it under my door and placed his hand upon it for a moment, and then left. “Goodnight Ma’am,” he said, nodding at Mrs. Phillips. She closed her door and I watched until he was out of sight.
Bending down to pick up the envelope I read his note on the outside.
Dearest Ellie,
Please call or text me when you get home. Your front row ticket is inside. I hope you’ll be there…you’re my good luck charm.
-Rhys
CHAPTER TWELVE
“Hear my soul speak. Of the very instant that
I saw you, did my heart fly at your service.” - The Tempest, Act 3, Scene 1
After two hours of obsessing, deliberating, and scrubbing the stain out of my carpet, I decided it would be unprofessional of me to skip the show. I had an obligation to the university and John would be expecting me there, but I’d be a liar if I said I only went for work. Aware that I would rather see him than not, I allowed my fascination to push me to go.
For Both Are Infinite (Hearts in London Book 1) Page 12
