Grace
After two whole weeks as a Bostonian, I decided that the only thing I liked about this place was my apartment. Despite Harrington’s insistent requests for me to move in with him, I had put my foot down and gotten a place of my own. Even though I stood firm in my decision to give us a decent shot, living together after only two weeks of an actual relationship seemed just plain crazy.
My new job as an office manager allowed me to get an apartment that was a million times better than my previous place. It was larger and fully furnished, located in a nice part of the city and, because I was on the ground level, even had a small back yard. Amid so much change and chaos, it served as a sort of sanctuary where I could relax and forget, if only for a moment, that I lived in a city I didn’t understand, worked at a place I didn’t like and dated a man I didn’t love.
As I turned the corner on my way back home from work, I saw the patio lights were on and was reminded the one problem with my sanctuary. Harrington had it’s key.
I stopped just outside my door and took a deep breath hoping it would prepare myself to seem happy and comfortable with him. It didn’t.
“You’re here,” I said as I opened the door.
As per usual, Harrington either missed or ignored the hint of a bite in my tone as he walked toward me and kissed my lips. “I am, and I have Chinese.”
“Yum,” I replied with a fake smile and absolutely no enthusiasm at all.
He winked at me as I walked around yet another bouquet of flowers on my way to the kitchen. When he gave me that gorgeous bouquet of roses back at my old apartment and said I was the kind of woman who should get flowers every day, I had no idea he would be so literal about it. There were so many flowers in my home, I sometimes felt like I was living in a funeral home. Despite being sweet, the gesture was quickly becoming oddly depressing.
“Those are lovely,” I said pointing at the sunflowers by my TV. “But you really shouldn’t have. I’ve got plenty of flowers already.”
Harrington chuckled and kissed my cheeks. “Nonsense. No number of flowers will ever be enough for you.”
With that practiced smile still on my face, I sighed as he went to get some plates from the kitchen. I hated that he always pulled out plates and glasses when we were eating take out and drinking beers. The way I saw it, there was absolutely no point in getting things dirty when we could simply eat out of the container and then toss it once we were done.
It was funny to me how even the most perfect man in the world could be annoying as hell, while the most imperfect man in the world felt like a dream come true. Harrington was the absolutely perfect boyfriend. He was honest and kind, treated me like a freaking princess, and did all the right things. Still, I found his little quirks incredibly annoying.
On the other side, was Fletcher. The world’s biggest asshole. He was a drunk and a mess, treated me like crap, and didn’t get a single thing right. However, even though he exasperated me at times, he never annoyed me or made me wish I was with someone else. No matter what kind of crap he pulled on me, I knew that I would rather be with him than be with anyone else. And that, right there, was everything that was wrong with my life.
Try as I might, I still couldn’t stop thinking about Fletcher. Every time my phone rang, I couldn’t help but hope it was him. And every time I kissed or made love to Harrington, it was Fletcher’s face I saw behind my lids.
Deep down, I knew I should end things. It would be better for both of us in the long run, but he seemed so happy, and I had no life to return to. So I stayed in this trap, consumed by self-hatred and guilt until I had become a drunk and phony that mirrored the man I truly loved.
“How was your day?” I asked, trying my best to seem interested.
Harrington smiled warmly at me. “It was long. We should be finishing this project, but every single thing that could go wrong is going wrong. It’s so frustrating.”
I patted his hand and tried to sound sweet. “You’ll get there. You’re good like that.”
My comment made him chuckle. He took a long sip of his beer and shifted the conversation to me. In return, I told him about my day and how weird and lonely the office still felt. As usual, he assured me that it was only a matter of time and that I would be settled and surrounded by great friends soon enough. I tried to pretend like I believed him, but I honestly doubted that I would ever enjoy working as much as I did at Fletcher’s.
But this was my life now. I had to get used to it.
We continued to talk about meaningless things as we finished our meal. Then, after a little bit of TV, we made out, but I stopped it before it went too far with a lame excuse about being tired and having a busy day the next morning. Understanding as always, Harrington left without any complaint, which served no other purpose other than make me feel like shit.
Once he was gone, I took a shower to wash the guilt away, wrapped myself in a fluffy robe and walked back to my kitchen to clean up. I looked at the pile of dirty dishes and decided I had no energy for them. Instead, I poured myself a glass of wine and carried the bottle with me towards the patio.
I sat in of the lounge chairs and contemplated just how messy my life was. I wanted to cry so I’d feel better, but after two weeks of holding my tears in for Harrington’s benefit, I really felt like I was no longer able to cry—which was probably a good thing. So, I just sat there, looking at the stars and drinking wine.
Time passed slowly, and I completely lost track of it. Like most nights, the minutes no longer had meaning as my eyelids grew heavy with that mind-numbing mixture of exhaustion and inebriation. Then, just as I was about to fall asleep, three consecutive knocks sounded at my front door, and my mind was jolted awake.
Considering that the only person I knew in this town had the key, my brows pulled together in worry and confusion. I got up to my feet and with my glass and bottle in hand swayed my way towards the door. Moving lethargically and too drunk to think about my own safety, I opened the door and, for the first time in weeks, I could actually feel my heart beating.