How It's Going To Be [h.s.]

Chapter 13

I left him. I left Harry alone in that small room. I pushed my handbag to the crook of my elbow and walked to a security checkpoint without so much as looking back at him. If I looked back, I knew I would have broken down in tears. I wanted to be stronger than that.

Once through security, I was ushered onto the plane. Harry had gotten me a first class seat. I was in the middle of first class sitting at the window. I settled into the chair and looked on as people began trickling onto the plane. A girl recognized me, but she didn't make a scene and for that I was thankful.

I grew impatient waiting for the passengers to finish boarding the flight. I reached down and opened my handbag to find the book I had taken from my bedside table. It was a lengthy mystery novel that I couldn't remember buying. I frowned as I flipped through the pages. Suddenly, something poked out from one of the pages. It was a piece of paper marking a place at which I had stopped reading. I turned to the page it held and a small gasp fell from my lips. It wasn't just a piece of paper.

In my hands was a photograph. It was a candid shot of Harry and me. My eyes were nearly closed because my smile was so wide. My hair was messy like I had pushed it back hurriedly. Harry was at my side with his arms wrapped tightly around my shoulders. His eyes were closed and his lips were pouted in a perfect kiss that was pressed to my jaw. It was at an odd, rushed angle that looked more accidental than intentional.

I stared at the image on the front before turning the picture over in my hand. I didn't have a reason to turn it over, but once I did, I had a reason to look. Printed in black ink were words I instantly knew had come from Harry.

Ever since I met you, no one else has been worth thinking about. All the love, H.

My heart nearly stopped. It felt heavy in my chest. My breathing increased its rate and I suddenly felt claustrophobic. I was close to hyperventilating. I immediately looked up to the plane door. The flight attendant was just securing the door for takeoff. All of the passengers had boarded. Had that door been open, I would have gotten off the plane and ran back to Harry.

There was nothing I could do to stop the tears from forming in my eyes, streaming down my face, and eventually falling until they wet the front of my shirt. I felt trapped on the plane without anywhere private to go to release my emotions. I was stuck dabbing uselessly at my eyes with the back of my hand and trying to contain the sobs that were forcefully trying to escape.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a tissue. I turned my head and a nice looking older woman was sitting beside me. She was holding out a tissue she had presumably taken from her purse.

"Thank you," I sniffled as I took the tissue.

"Those aren't tears because you're afraid of planes." Her tone wasn't a question.

"No," I stuttered.

"Those are tears of a sad heart."

I did have a sad heart. My heart felt like it was shattered. I had quickly tucked the photo back into the book and stored it away in my handbag to keep it out of sight. I didn't want a reminder of what I had before, but was now lost. I chose not to respond to her because I wanted to be left alone.

The woman reached out and patted my hand supportively and took a deep breath. "Did he break you heart?"

I wasn't sure how she knew my trouble had to do with a boy, but her intuition was spot on. Maybe it was that obvious. Maybe she was just wise. "No. I think I may have just broken his."

"Aha!" She smiled. "That means you have all the power, my dear. You can fix it! You can fix his heart and that will fix your own."

I cried the entire flight. I had brought with me a novel I intended to read, but I never picked it up. I had my phone and a set of headphones so I could listen to music, but I never put the headphones on and not one song played. I sat in my seat limply and stared out the window of the plane. Every other time I had cried, it had been for myself. I had cried over whatever pain I was feeling, emotionally or physically. This time, however, I was crying for Harry. I was crying for Harry's broken heart.