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

Chapter 95

This chapter was a long time coming. Thank you for being patient. 

{Kate's Point of View}

Harry and I agreed to meet at a small park near my flat on Sunday afternoon. The morning had been a furious downpour. Thick clouds shrouded London and offered their worst. Streets ushered heavy streams of water in search of storm drains. Water trickled off bare tree branches and rooftops. Thunder echoed somewhere in the distance. And though Londoners were accustomed to rainstorms, hardly anyone was outside at all. People were probably in the comfort of their homes, content reading books by windows or drinking tea while watching the morning news. I, however, was not so relaxed on a drizzly Sunday.

By noon, the rain stopped. The relentless pounding on my windows stopped so suddenly, I was stunned. The speed of the rain had virtually been a pail pouring out water, but was now no more than a few lone drops here and there. I peered out the window and looked skyward. The clouds were still angrily swirling overhead. It seemed a miracle that the rain would stop out of nowhere. My miracle, I thought. The rain stopped just in time for me to see Harry in the park.

The rain stayed away as I dressed in boots and a coat. When I stepped out of my building, the sky looked like it was moments from opening up and seeking revenge, but it didn't. I walked down the street toward the park entrance without feeling so much as a single drop of rain. The storm had stopped just for us. It was certainly a sign.

____________

The park near my flat was slightly rundown. The walkway had large cracks filled with patches of clover. There were two main fields of browning grass that were trampled down from games of football and picnics. The main feature of the park was a fountain in the center of a pond. Trees surrounding the pond were wildly overgrown making anyone who walked up to the pond out of view from the rest of the park. Wrought iron and wooden benches were scattered in shifts of two around the pond. The wood of the benches was stained with thick moss in some areas. The pond itself was a sickening green with the pathetic fountain in the middle that gurgled algae-ridden water no more than a meter in the air.

When I made my way through the trees to the pond, I was disappointed to see Harry was not already waiting. I approached one of the benches slowly. I kicked at a puddle of water with the toe of my boot. Looking around, I realized I was completely alone. I had been to the park many times, but never when it was empty. It was almost eerie; benches were vacant, the grass was free of toddling children or excited dogs, the pathways were clear of bicyclists and sauntering couples with interlocked fingers.

I sat on the bench and immediately regretted it. The old wood on the benches had absorbed more water than I thought and it soaked into my jeans on the backs of my legs. The air was heavy with moisture too; the water in the pond had a distinct smell that made me long for fresher air. The trees around the pond didn't allow for much airflow. What would likely be a small oasis on a hot day was a humid trap on a rainy day.

To pass the time, I watched a team of ducks swim around the pond. Some stayed huddled on the edge of the pond in small clusters. The braver ones leapt into the cold water and raced around with a thrill. After a few laps, one duck dipped below the water. He resurfaced with something in his bill that looked more like a piece of trash than anything a duck should be eating.

I checked my watch despite my constant mental reminders not to. When I saw the hour, my heart sank. I had been at the park in the cold sitting on a wet bench alone for nearly an hour. All of the same emotions from Yumchaa came rushing back to me: sadness, anger, embarrassment. I resolved to wait no more than ten more minutes. After that, I would get up and walk back to my flat without looking back. If he left me here, I would never speak to Harry Styles again.