The Knight in Leather Armor

ch.46 His Armor

Harry got up and started to walk toward the front door.              

“Wait,” I called as I held onto his upper arm, his exquisitely carved, but now damaged upper arm.

He turned around slowly, his torso, still naked and exposed, like Michel Angelo’s David, but with flesh.

“Angela,” he sighed and he took my hands in his, delicately, as if he didn’t want to contaminate me. But I wished he would, I wished he would fill me with his golden poison.

“Please, at least tell me why,” I asked as I searched for reasoning in his clouded grey-green eyes. I could see the pain inflaming his eyes. 

I wished I could taste it so that I could relieve him of it. We were stronger like that, when we were together, working as one.

“Angela, I’m- not -good for you,” he told me slowly, painfully.

I searched his marble-like eyes for reasoning, but there was none that was logical.

“What are you talking about, Harry?” I asked in completely bewilderment.

Now I was completely confused. He kicked at a stray scrap on the floor, in frustration.

“I can’t give you what you need, let alone what you want,” he began vaguely. He started to pace around the room and ran his fingers through his dark curls.

“What are y-” I started to protest, but Harry interrupted.

“I can’t give you that cheerful red and white Georgian Colonial mansion overlooking the bay. A lawn that starts at the beach and runs to the front door. I can’t give you a little tree house decorated with bright vines and burning gardens. Or lines of French windows that reflect gold. I can’t put on that show, Angela. I’m not Gatsby,” he declared as he held out his arms in defeat.

I just stood there, staring at him.

“No, you’re not,” I agreed. My three words seem to burn deeper within him than his own mini speech.

“You’re not Gatsby because you’re not stuck in your past. I won’t let you get stuck,” I told him as I took a step closer.

I didn’t want him to be Gatsby, not only because that would be a dangerous spell for self-destruction and beautiful damnation, but because it also meant that I was Daisy and I didn’t want to be Daisy, that heartless, spineless woman who deserved nothing more than dirt thrown across her overly-powdered face.

It would also mean that I’ve lost Harry from my own stupid selfishness.

“And I don’t need those things, Harry. I’ve never needed those things and you know that,” I shook my head. Now it was my turn to be stubborn.

I watched him carefully, wanting to know where he had gotten these random assertions from. He took a deep breath and exhaled.                      

I placed my hand on his chest, over his heart.

“No, you do, Angela. You need to live like the angel that you are,” he told me and he took both my hands in his and looked into my eyes as he spoke.

“You should have diamonds lined up to spell your name. You should have a garden of golden butterflies in your balcony. You should have sparkling red wine and bubbling white champagne,” he continued in a distant daze.

“And Liam, Liam can do that for you. Not me,” he stuttered slightly. I felt his heart fall to the pit of his chest when he spoke Liam’s name.

Harry looked down at the ground, like he wasn’t allowed to look into my eyes anymore. I titled his chin up this time and I looked deep into those marbles.