Another longish oneeeee
...
Amelia
An awkward silence engulfs Harry and I as we enter our apartment following our couples therapy session.
Well that went differently than I thought it would. I knew we would have some issues to tend to, but not in relationship to trust. I thought we did trust each other. I mean, I know I trust Harry. I know he is always there for me, regardless of whatever predicament I'm in. I could call him in the middle of the night and I trust that he would drop everything to tend to me. There's so much that I trust Harry with, yet how can trust be the issue in our relationship?
I suppose Maggie had a point, I just never realized it before she said it out loud. I actually don't trust Harry with every single thing, but it's not his fault. I think it stems from my own insecurities, but I don't trust that Harry will want to spend the rest of his life with me. Sometimes I think he will, but then the little nagging voice inside of my head reminds me that I'm not special and that Harry might actually prefer being with someone famous, or 'less ordinary'.
Maybe I do still have him on this pedestal of fame.
I thought that I was able to separate Harry from his fame, but perhaps the two got intermingled somewhere along the way. I don't view Harry as this untouchable celebrity, however his money and fame has definitely played a role in my perception of him. It breaks my heart to even admit that.
I bite the inside of my cheek and kick off my shoes, leaving them by the elevator doors, next to Harry's sneakers. He's already stepped out of his and made his way to the kitchen where he opens the refrigerator and rummages through it.
"Maybe we should just...stay in tonight," Harry says. He doesn't look at me, but rather he just keeps perusing the little food we have in the house.
My heart breaks. He was so happy about this date he had planned last minute. On the way to see Maggie, he managed to get us a reservation at some French restaurant uptown. He was giddy about it the entire ride to therapy but now...now I don't see that same excitement.
"Okay," I reply in a small voice.
I sigh and walk past Harry, heading towards the hallway that leads to our bedroom. But as I'm just about out of the kitchen, I halt in my steps.
No, this isn't right. Maybe Harry really doesn't want to go out, in which case I won't press it, but I can't just ignore my feelings on my end. It's out of instinct to just agree or disagree even if it's not my true thoughts. I've been working on expressing myself more to open up to Harry and I know that if I walk away now, I'll hole up in our room, festering with my thoughts until they're beat into my brain or cause me to collapse.
"I don't want to stay in tonight," I say, turning around. Harry looks at me from the fridge, slowly shutting it's doors. "I want to go out with you, on this fancy date you have planned. I don't care if we sit in silence the whole time. I just want to go out with you because I still love you, regardless of what happened in therapy."
Harry's previously slumped posture straightens up a little.
"Yeah?" he responds in an unsure voice. I nod my head. "Okay. I'd...I'd like to still go, too. I'll call my driver to pick us up at six-thirty?"
I nod again.
"That sounds perfect," I respond.
"Okay," Harry says. I go to turn back around, but Harry stops me. "And Amelia?"
"Yes?" I say.
"I still love you, too."
...
