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I squeeze his hand, nodding, before letting go. “Always.”
Henrik and I are friends. I don’t see that changing anytime soon. But things won’t be the same.
A breakup always means losing more than the partner. It means losing the family that came with it, the dreams, the future. Everything runs dry, leaving you feeling hopeless and helpless.
“Did you talk to your parents?” I ask.
“You don’t worry about anything. We’ll be here for him.”
“Well, look at that.” Harv’s in the doorway. “Here to fuck him too?”
“What the fuck, Harvey?” Henrik looks pissed, which is something I thought I’d never see in my lifetime.
“Shut up, Hen. What’re you doing here?”
“I’m helping her pack.”
Harvey’s eyes widen. “She’s not leaving.”
“I’m pret-ty sure she is.” Henrik swirls his forefinger in the air, signaling the empty room with the boxes piled up near the door.
“Gemma, we can fix this. What’re you doing? You’re not leaving me. Let’s talk about this.”
I stand, ready to keep packing. He’ll just slow me down, and I don’t want to fight anymore.
“Please, let’s work through this, Gemma.”
I shake my head. Not this time.
“I’m trying here, and every time I do, you push back.” He’s pleading, his voice desperate. He keeps looking at his brother like he wants him out of our house.
“I’d say you have two years of groveling to catch up on.” Henrik narrows his eyes at him.
Harvey leaves, and I want to run to him and apologize. I can’t, though, because I’m trying to break this cycle where both of us are depressed, and neither of us have the courage to leave.
Henrik and I move to the bathroom, and he starts throwing stuff into boxes. We continue packing most of my stuff, with him sporadically asking me if something’s mine.
I feel my body ready to crash, to tumble to the floor and give out. I want to, but I don’t. I keep going, focusing on one box at a time, one question from Henrik at a time. We move to the kitchen and then the basement.
I order tacos as takeout from a local restaurant and hand Henrik a few beers for dinner. Harvey never leaves his room.
If I truly think about leaving him and let myself feel the pain associated with my decision, I won’t make it out of here.
Before leaving, Henrik goes to Harvey’s room to speak with him. He looks pensive when he comes out, and I bring him to the front door.
“He’s a mess,” Henrik says. I can sense his nerves even though he tries to say it nonchalantly.
“I’ll talk to him,” I reassure him. “Thanks for everything.”
He shrugs. “Of course. Text me when you move. I’ll help.”
I throw myself into his arms.
I know I’m being silly, but I’ve grown accustomed to having Hen in my life since Harvey and I started dating. He’s becomea close friend, and I don’t want to lose him. While others might judge and give me critical advice (Gia and Layla), Henrik will pass me a joint and list a million reasons why my life is beautiful.
“Don’t be foolish. I’ll always bug you still.” He pats my head and presses a kiss over it. My heart constricts, full of goodbyes and sadness and sorrow.
I can’t do this.
