Angie and Jason were already gone, of course, and Henry was nowhere to be found.
I sat with Marjorie, resisting the urge to ask where her son was. Sage was still in bed, and Bryce had gone over to see his best friend, Angie’s uncle Joe.
Marjorie was wonderful, of course, and asked if I truly had to leave so soon.
I told her about the seminar, and she was ecstatic for me and made me promise to let her and Bryce know how everything went.
Funny.
She had no idea what her son and I had been up to all weekend.
Just as well.
I won’t be joining Angie’s family anytime soon.
Probably never.
The pang of loss hits me again. It’s a blinding stab that leaves me breathless.
I push back from my desk and walk into the kitchen, opening cupboards in search of something to eat. I settle for a can of soup and some stale crackers. It’s not much, but it’s something. After two days of rich and decadent food, it works.
Soup and crackers. The ultimate comfort food.
Except it doesn’t comfort me.
As I eat, my mind churns, and I’m unable to escape the endless loop of what-ifs and might-have-beens.
Henry.
Why can’t I get him out of my head?
I try to focus on the positive, remind myself of the good things.
The seminar.
The opportunity.
But everything is tinged with an undercurrent of bitterness. Every achievement feels hollow.
Which is, of course, ridiculous.
I resist the urge to berate myself out loud once more.
After the light dinner, I try to return to my studies, but I can’t concentrate. I can’t focus.
Henry.
Henry.
Henry.
Always there, damn him.
I give up on studying and decide to take a warm shower. The water cascades down my body, but all I can think about are his hands on me, the way he caressed and explored every inch of me. The water’s touch is nothing compared to his.
I hurriedly step out of the shower and wrap a towel around my body. The mirror is steamed up, hiding my reflection. I wipe it away.
The girl staring back at me is a stranger. Eyes that once held joy and excitement are now dull and lifeless.
