CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
I sit on the couch with my knees tucked into my chest and stare at the black screen of the telly. It’s almost midnight and Harry left this afternoon. At the most, six, but it was probably closer to four or five. It seems as though you lose track of time if you lay on the floor crying for most of the day.
I try not to think about what it is he is doing exactly because they all make me cringe and also make me want to fall over and scream into the pillow next to me.
The door jiggles and for some reason, I feel the need to hide. Well, not to hide but to do something that won’t make it look like I haven’t been waiting six hours for him to come back.
The handle begins to turn, so I do the first thing that comes to mind: act like I’m sleeping. I quickly sprawl out onto the couch, turning my head towards the door.
“Vi?” He asks loudly as he walks into the flat, his voice a little raspy and I cringe, not thinking about it. I hear footsteps and a horrible reeking smell then I hear Harry say, much more clearly, “Hey, Vi, are you awake?”
I slowly open my eyes and look at him, kneeling beside the couch. I try my best to act like I’d just slept off the last six hours because, who needs Harry? I’ve got a couch, food, comfy blankets and pillows, and Netflix.
“Harry?” I ask, rubbing my eyes and using my most sleep-deprived faux voice I can. Which, is simple, really, because I wasn’t even waiting for Harry for six hours, I was sleeping, of course.
“Hey babe,” I smile and he does the same. I blink my eyes lazily, partially because I’m still acting and partially because I’m kind of dreaming, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you. Just got back from Elizabeth’s.” He whispers the last part, looking down as he does so.
But I keep up my façade, and instead of acting depressed and heart-broken, I act calm and collected. Who needs Harry and Elizabeth anyway? “What’d you guys do?” I ask, looking at the top of his head as he keeps looking at the floor.
He then perks up, looking up at me with his eyebrows furrowed. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then says, “Well, we um, we…” He swallows and tilts his head at me, “We um watched a movie and then ordered some pizza and then… um …talked.” He looks like a cross between confused and surprised and it’s then that I realize that I have won. Because I don’t need Elizabeth and I’m the greatest ghost-actor to ever walk the Earth.
I narrow my eyes and quirk an eyebrow while looking at Harry’s baffled features. “Sounds fun,” I say, sitting up and crossing my legs under my body while looking at my fingernails, “Tell me, H, does Elizabeth smoke?”
Harry goes wide-eyed and does the same open-and-close-his-mouth routine. “What do you mean?” He asks, stuttering and sort of visibly shaking. “You mean—”
“Weed, yes.” I say, looking down at him with a grin, “I’m sure you and Elizabeth did a lot of talking.”
He blinks up at me, his mouth dropped open in a gape. I just laugh and shake my head, “It’s okay, H,” I chuckle as he falls back to lean on his ankles, his head in his hands, “You probably couldn’t keep down one drag. Bet you were coughing and choking on your lungs before you could even begin to start to feel hazey.” I laugh again and now Harry’s blushing.
“I just,” He shrugs his shoulders, looking at the carpet, “Elizabeth started and gave me some and—how’d you know?” He asks, extremely distressed.
“Alfie used to do that nasty shit.” I say, “I’m like one of those drug dogs; I could smell that stuff from a mile away.”
Harry just laughs and shakes his head and staggers to stand up. He plops down beside me and then inhales the smell from his shirt by his shoulder. He makes a disgusted face, “Man, I don’t think you’d have to be a drug dog to smell this shit.” I laugh and he just kind of looks at me for a minute before joining in, too. It’s nice, and I realize that I do need Harry; just that Harry doesn’t need Elizabeth.
