I made myself a protein shake and a salad for dinner. It tasted so good. That’s another hurdle for me, loving food again. I constantly talk to my therapist about the same thought, how did it get this bad, this fast? She doesn’t have many answers for me. She wants me to look at the sum of my choices, I think. I chose not to be vocal. I chose to overtrain and undereat. I chose not to stand up for myself. I chose not to ask for what I needed. While I know the situation with Wes and Hannah was the catalyst, the problem is much deeper.
After I clean up the kitchen and shut off all the lights, except the one over the sink my mom always leaves on and the desk lamp in my father’s office, I wander up to my room for the rest of the routine I’ve created for myself. I brush my hair over and over. It instantly relieves my stress and anxiety. I put on my favorite pajamas, and I climb into bed to journal my day. My journal is filled with thoughts of failure and disappointment. It’s also filled with how much I miss Wes.
One of the things I miss most is movie night. Wes would never bitch about what he called “chick flicks.” He’d watch every single one. His hands would never leave me. He’d be touching my hair, holding me across his body, or pulling me to his side. I’ve tried to watch them here by myself. I find I can’t and don’t want to.
My mom has been encouraging me to read. I’ve gone back to the classics. Tonight, Shakespeare is my friend. When all else fails Romeo and Juliet never does. I have the book in hand and my lamp on when I hear a gentle tap…tap…tap…coming from the base of my balcony door.
I pull the sheers back to see if there is a bird or a squirrel. When I find nothing, I open the door and step out just a bit. Just then, a tiny pebble lands at my feet. After pulling it into my hand, I take another couple of steps to peek over the side.
“Wes?” He looks so handsome. He’s nearly exactly wearing what he did the night we walked alone outside in Vermont. I don’t know if that’s coincidence or planned. Either way, I’m already reeling.
“Hey. Hi.”
When we last saw each other two weeks ago, we made love just before I left. I didn’t feel how I should have felt. He gave me all of himself and I went through the motions. He looks like he’s been neglecting himself much like I have. His hair is a bit longer than I’m used to. Everything about him seems a step late.
Instantly I’m nervous. I have no reason to be, other than I didn’t plan this. I’m not the girl he said he loves anymore. I walked away so I wouldn’t have to hear that. Now with him in front of me, it’s all I think about. “What are you doing here?” I ask.
“Isn’t it obvious?”
In my head I wish for him to still love me. There’s no way he can. This is too broken. I’m too broken. Nothing has changed since the day I left. “No. Not really,” I quickly answer. “Eli’s not here. My parents are having dinner with friends. I don’t think you should be here.”
He stands his ground. He looks up at me with an absolute softness to his eyes. I feel a new forcefulness from his words. “Here is exactly where I should be. I should have always been here. Maybe I haven’t shown you in the ways I should have or the ways you needed but, Hayley, I belong with you.”
I rest my hands on the railing. I have to or I will fall over. All of the rules I created to protect myself are dissolving. I can’t look at him anymore. It’s the only way I’m going to be able to get him off the grounds, out of my head, and out of my heart. I’ve spent every day trying to carry myself with confidence. I’ve tried to keep my head up and tell the ugly thoughts to go away. In this moment, I can feel my shoulders sink and my chin lowers toward my chest. “Wes, I can’t have this conversation with you right now. Nothing has changed. I’m still a mess. You’ve still got too much to sort out. This just isn’t… it’s just not…”
“Just not what? Not pretty? No, it’s not, but it’s what we’ve got. I need you to talk to me. I want to work through it all. I have so much to tell you.”
Now he wants to talk? The tug-of-war inside my body is so intense. Part of me wants to run down and open the door to let him in. Another part of me is so angry with him. Talking weeks ago would have likely made a huge difference. My instincts say it’s too little, too late. “Wes, please go. Please. This is just too hard.”
“This is too hard? Fuck. This is easy. Staying apart is what’s hard. You used to see that. You were the one who told me we’ve got this and that you’d stay by my side. Now I’m telling you that. I just need you to listen. Come down and we can talk.”
“No. Please listen to me. No. I can’t come down. Thank you for coming to check on me, but please go.”
My heart is pounding inside my chest. I can feel a tear start to roll down my cheek behind my glasses. I take one step back toward my open door. He takes a step closer toward the house. I can see in how he’s standing that his mind is in a whirl. I even think I see a tremor to his hand.
“I’m coming up, Hayley.”
What?! He wouldn’t. I lean over the rail as he rushes the house. I can hear the bottom of his shoe scrape against the large stones on the side of the house. Does he think he’s a superhero? He’s going to hurt himself. The sounds of his fingers curling into the rock is like nails on a chalkboard. It sends shivers up my back. The simple grunts and groans of his rock-climbing event begin to echo around the entryway, as do the under the breath swears as his hands grip over the trellis. It seriously looks like he’s done this before.
“What the hell are you doing?” I scream at him as I make my way over to the side he’s climbing. He looks up for a quick second at my face. In that moment, his foot slips and his grip isn’t enough to hold his body weight. I watch him fall nearly an entire story to his back in the grass.
I stand stunned for a fraction of a second. I swear I hear his head bounce. I run back through the open doors, tossing them wide. I race down the stairs past the cat, who is I’m sure looking at me like I’m a crazy person. The outer door hits the wall as I run through the grass to Wes’s body.
At first, I don’t even think he’s breathing. I instantly regret everything over the last few weeks: how I didn’t speak up, how we spent this time apart, how I didn’t learn anything from Eli’s accident, and didn’t say the things I should have said to him.
I kneel at his side, tentatively laying my hand on his chest. I don’t know which I realize first, his chest is still rising and falling or the soft groan from his lips. “Oh my God, Wes. Don’t move, okay? I’m going to call for help. Tell me where it hurts.”
His hand moves in slow motion to rest on his chest, taking mine along with it to his heart. “Right here.” I slump over and sob next to him, mostly because I’m glad he’s talking but also because of the words he just said. “Hayley, don’t leave me.”
“I’m right here. What can I do? Is anything broken? Did you hit your head?”
His eyes open as he leaves my hand over his heart and takes his to cup my cheek. “You can marry me?” I’m frozen again. Maybe he did hit his head. “Did you hear me?”