Chapter 24 pt 1

“Shh, it’s okay,” I tried to calm Apples down while she meowed in her carrier. With Henry living two hours away, I didn’t have time to take her for boarding. I also didn’t know how long I’d be around Henry but knew in this circumstance I’d be there as long as he needed me to be. The thought brought a slight feeling of resistance within me, as I didn’t know if this was the smart thing to do.

But the heart wants what it wants and many times rules over the mind.

I froze the moment I stepped into the house. The beauty, spaciousness, and harmony I was met with the first time I came was not what I saw now.

The large painting one first saw when they walked was on the floor along with shattered glass.

A lamp was knocked over. Sheers were tattered and strewn across the floor.

The house was no longer untouched.  Angry hands had ripped it apart. There was more life in this house with its destruction than when I initially saw it.

I stepped onto the marble floor with caution, wondering if I should be going the other way while calling the police. Alarms went off in my head as I dreaded something happened to Henry.

“Henry?!” I called out.

“Don’t come in,” he muttered sluggishly, his voice pained in a way I’d never heard. I advanced further into the room until I saw him sprawled on the couch on his stomach with his hand dangling beside him. Surrounding the floor around the couch a litter of beer bottles.

The site was gut wrenching and I was surprised by how much pain it brought me.

“Henry…”

“It was a mistake.” He tried to lift his head and grimaced, laying it back down.

“I shouldn’t have asked you to come. I’m sorry. I lost my phone soon after we talked. I couldn’t stop you from coming. I’m sorry.”           

Apples meowed.

“Where is Peaches?” I asked nervously as I looked around the room. It was mostly the west end of it that was ruined. The right side of it wasn’t so bad.

“I don’t know.” There was a hint of embarrassment in his voice. “She stays in my room most of the time.”

With Apples in tow, I went up to his room to find the door slightly ajar. My heart galloped with memories of Henry’s hands all over me. This was the room that began the downward spiral.

Pushing those thoughts aside I stepped inside to find that it still looked the same. Ignoring the fact that this was the unmade bed where we’d lay, I started to call out to her.

“Peaches?” There was no answer. I released Apples from her carrier to get her acquainted with her surroundings and began to look for the other cat. I finally found her when I came out of the bathroom and saw two flickering eyes under Henry’s drawer. I looked to the bed to find Apples was still curiously sniffing the bed.

“Here baby, come.” I called her for several moments but to no avail. She was frightened and I imagined all the sounds of shattered glass and other things breaking scared her. I placed some of the cat food I’d carried next to the drawer. Apples quickly rushed to my side to start eating and Peaches became curious. She eventually came out and sniffed my hand first. To my fortune she rubbed her face over my fingers with a light purr. I watched the two cats ready for them to start fighting when to my surprise they took to each other well even after not seeing each other for months.

Closing the door behind me, I went back downstairs. Now that I got a closer look at Henry, I noticed that his face was red and his breathing was very shallow. It pained me to see him like this. My eyes watered but I tried to stay strong as I approached him and crouched till we were face to face. He reeked of alcohol. His eyes were lifeless as he stared at no particular spot on the couch.

I combed my fingers into his hair and kissed his forehead before resting my head on his.

Henry sucked in a breath and turned the other way, then let out a nearly inaudible groan in pain. I was surprised by how scorching his skin was.

“Are you feeling sick? You feel like you’re running a fever.” I actually felt nervous about him being unwell.

“Hangover,” he mumbled tersely and my heart sunk.  “I’m sorry,” he continued regretfully.

“You have nothing to be sorry for,” I tried to assure him as I rubbed his back. My touch made him stiffen. I wasn’t used to him reacting to my touch like that but under the circumstance I could understand.

“Do you want to talk about it?” I asked unsurely, not knowing what to do.

“No,” he said simply. I knew he wasn’t being nasty towards me. When a child loses a parent there’s really no handbook on how to deal with it because everyone’s relationships with their parents are personal and have their own dynamics.

And this had just happened.

I had a good inkling that alcohol was the cause of his father’s death. And the fact that alcohol was what emanated off of him made me especially sad.

I was beside him helplessly for a few minutes before realizing that something needed to be done about the mess around the house.

There was no method to the madness. I didn’t understand why I was cleaning up the house, and neither could I understand why none of it bothered me.

My body just led me to it.

As I cleaned, Henry began to throw up. It seemed endless, but that was something that couldn’t be helped.

It took a long while to clean, but I got most of the glass swept from the floor. After some investigating through the house I found the vacuum and got most of the rugs and carpets cleaned. The glass wall that overlooked the pool was shattered as well and would need professional care.

I wondered how even the guards had not heard any of the commotion but the distance from the house to the gate as well as the neighbors was far. It’s clear that this home’s purpose was isolation.

The rest of the damage that occurred would take a few days and a lot needed to be thrown away.

Henry was still suffering on the couch and was angry I cleaned up the mess he made after pleading with me not to. I didn’t listen to him and brought one of the smaller trashcans from his bathroom, placing it next for him.

“I’m going to make you something to eat. Do you happen to have any eggs?” I asked, imagining that he probably had not been at the house but for a few days or even months. In fact I was surprised he was here at all. He was always moving around after all.

“No! No. Please no food,” he implored. “The thought alone makes me sick…”

“There is nothing else to throw up. I might have to go to the nearest store…” My words trailed off when I opened a fridge filled to capacity. I hadn’t paid much attention to the contents of his fridge last time but something told me it probably wasn’t this full. When I picked up some of the items and checked the expiration date they were new and the fruit and vegetables were all fresh.

“When did you do grocery shopping?” I asked Henry.

“Just a few days ago…god this fucking headache,” He grumbled as he rolled onto his back, wincing while holding the bridge of his nose.

“How long have you been at the house?”

“Save a few trips out the year I’ve been living here about an entire year. This is my home, you know.”

I was shocked and stared at him.

“I stayed,” he added after some silence and my heart jumped.

Gulping hard and suddenly feeling nervous, I began ravaging through the fridge for some eggs.

I wasn’t the best cook but with as many ingredients as he had in the fridge I was able to cook up a solid omelet.

Like a child Henry turned until his back was facing me when I presented it to him.

“I can’t take another view of you cleaning this mess up. This is my lowest point ever. Not even being homeless was this bad.”

“But you called me because you trust me, right?”

He was silent a moment before answering “…Yeah.”

“Turn around and try to eat.”

He was unrelenting.

“For me, please,” I pleaded with my hand on his arm.

He froze again at my touch but surprised me when he finally turned around. Cringing, he sat up with great effort, his elbows on his knees as he supported his head in his hands. 

I placed the plate in front of him and he stared at the food bleary eyed, as if trying to remind himself how to lift a fork.

Forking some of the omelet, I raised it to his mouth. His face scrunched up like a child’s would, the smell probably too much for him right now.

After some coaxing I got him to eat some. Once that barrier was broken Henry finally took the fork and began to eat on his own.

While he completed his meal I returned to the kitchen to clean up. When done, I went back upstairs to find that the cats were snuggled together in Henry’s bed.

Back downstairs, Henry was sighing sharply and lying back down. After I was done organizing the kitchen I went to retrieve his plate to find that he hadn’t touched the bottle of Getorade.

“Have some of this,” I said as I uncapped it and handed it to him. “It should help some.”

“You have just further proven to me that I don’t deserve you. At all.”

Henry’s words gave me pause, but I nudged the bottle to him anyway.

“Don’t say things like that. Here, sit up and drink some before you go back to sleep.”

“I shouldn’t have called you back. I’m always dragging you into my madness. You are so good to me when you have been hurt. When I hurt you. I’ll never forgive myself for that. How could I have ever done that to you after all you have been through?” He was staring at the ceiling as he spoke.

“You were fighting your own demons. It’s okay.”

“It’s not okay. I’m so sorry, Peaches.”

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m happy that you’re here.”

“Are you really happy?”

“I’m not going to talk about it. Please, just try to understand.”

I had the urge to cry. There was a lump in my throat. I knew he was hurting. I could feel it just by being next to him so much that I didn’t let my past insecurities overshadow this moment. I couldn’t. I remember when George was sick with the flu and I catered to him that entire week, going so far as to do his homework for him.

But I couldn’t feel all those feelings now because I knew Henry’s pain was unbearable. The destruction of the house represented that.

“But I mean every words I say,” He continued. “I’m not just trying to deflect. I’ve been wanting to tell you this so long. I love you and I know I don’t deserve you.”

I didn’t know what to say.

“Here. Have some of this and then I’ll run you a bath—“

Henry sat up again, cutting me off as he gently took the Getorade from me. “It’s fine. A shower will be much better. The guest room should be good. You can get some rest now.”

We both stared at one another, both of us still holding the Getorade. I didn’t want to leave his side. While a part of me was a bit unnerved at the sheer power he had behind all the demolition he’d caused to the house, another part of me wanted to try and protect him or just give him a shoulder to cry on.

But I couldn’t force him. Reluctantly I watched him amble up to his room with the Getorade in hand. I looked about the room to see what else I could do, but I was pretty tired myself. I was sitting there in this big house, realizing just how lonely it could be to be here.

Eventually my exhaustion began to catch up with me and I too went upstairs. After having my own shower, I went to check on Henry.

The door was cracked open so I stepped inside and my heart just shattered.

He was wearing all black now, seated on the edge of the bed. The cats were behind him, still sleeping soundly, coiled to each other. He was crouched forward with his elbows on his knees and he was staring at the carpet with a pained expression.

His eyes were wet.

“I’m okay,” he said quietly, slowly, almost as if he was asking himself. “I’m okay.” A flicker went through his eyes and pressed his lips together and shook his head. Then he began to shake one of his legs restlessly, his hands getting more taut as he linked them together.

“I’m okay. I’m okay. I’m okay…” he kept saying over and over but the more he spoke, the more his voice cracked.

At that moment as I stared at that man, I was flooded with a strong emotion that I had never had for anyone in my life.

Without another word, I rushed to him and knelt before him. Just as he turned his face away to shield his face, a silent tear fell.

“Don’t. It’s fine. I’m okay. Please don’t,” he beseeched quietly, his skin hot with embarrassment as I held his face while he tried to pry my hands away.

He eventually gave in and placed his face in his hands. I wound my arms around him tightly while he remained resistant.

“I’m sorry…” he whispered ruefully for allowing himself to be seen so vulnerable. I cried with my chest twisting like it was being clawed out of my chest.

Eventually, the guards surrounding him fell apart and his hands slowly left his face and inch my inch rounded my waist until he was hugging me tightly and letting his tears fall freely onto the crook of my neck.

“I’m so sorry,” I tearfully whispered. His shoulders shook as he completely let go and sobbed quietly on my shoulder.

And we stayed this way for a while.

Crying together.