Traffic whizzes by me and it seems like everyone on the road today wants to drive ten miles an hour. I honk my horn. The car in front of me is still stopped for at least thirty seconds at the stop sign.
Every second that passes is one second less that I have to find Henry. One second less of his time. And one second less that I have to ask for his forgiveness.
Next I pull into the cemetery parking lot. A vacant, newly paved parking lot. Only one car, a rusty old truck that’s paint job almost matches the rust around its edges. If Henry isn’t at the funeral home or cemetery, there’s only one place left to look. His house.
I park down the street, taking in the line of cars in his driveway. Should I or shouldn’t I? Would I be intruding? The last thing I want to do is upset him more than I already have.
The haunting image of the look on his face on Saturday resurfaces. What was wrong with me? Why couldn’t I see there was more going on with him than our complicated relationship? Because I was being a jealous moron. I let my emotions consume me.
My fingers inch back toward the ignition. I shouldn’t be here. He needs to spend time with his family. He wouldn’t want me here.
A fist pounds on my window. I turn and jump. Henry leans down and looks inside the car. We gaze at each other for a moment. Our eyes locked intensely. Deeply. Separated by the thin strip of glass. I feel my eyes watering, but I can’t look away. I place my hand on the glass and it’s like I’m reaching through the closed window, feeling his skin on mine.
Henry breaks first and steps away from the window. My heart plummets from its cavity to my stomach. I feel the red fleshy organ beating everywhere. In my head. In my ears. Even my toes. “Come back,” I whisper. “Stay.”
A second later, my door opens and Henry stands on the end. He motions for me to get out and I do. I get out, close the door, and lean up against the car.
An unsettling silence fills the air. I feel Henry’s eyes on me so I look up, then I look at the ground. Neither one of us knows what to say.
Henry shoves his hands in his pockets and rocks on his heels. “So.”
“I’m sorry,” I blurt out. “So sorry.” And before he realizes what’s happening I lunge at him, wrapping my arms around him, clutching the back of his shirt, grazing my fingertips over the smooth flesh on his back. I’m glued to him and I hope I stay like this forever.
He hesitates and a nervous sensation courses through me. Touch me. Henry, please touch me. “Please forgive me,” I tell him.
His hands trail down my back and he grips me tightly. Then he plants a soft kiss on the top of my head. “You’re forgiven.”
A sob full of relief whooshes from my lips. The hurt and fear inside of me evaporates and is replaced with unrequited joy. “Thank you. I’m so glad. I felt so terrible after our fight.”
“So did I. I’m sorry for what I said too.”
“I didn’t think you’d ever forgive me.”
I lift my head and he releases me and takes my face in his hands. He’s gazing through my eyes, searching. Searching for my soul. “How can you say that?”
“I was harsh. And selfish. I didn’t even consider—”
“Shhh, he interrupts me. He brushes the tips of his thumbs over my cheeks. “You don’t need to say anything.”
“But I do.”
Henry places his forehead against mine. His needy desperate hands pull me closer. “No you don’t. No matter what happens between us. No matter what kind of fights we have in the future. I just need you to know something.”
Our mouths collide. My breaths hike as my fingers swirl through his hair. He cups my neck kissing me harder. He pushes me into my car and his hand goes up my shirt and his fingertips brush against my bare midriff. Inside I’m a forest fire. Don’t put me out.
I arch my back as his lips trail from mouth to my neck. I close my eyes and hot tears, like fresh precipitation on a windshield rain down my cheeks. I turn my head and he stops kissing me. Warm air leaves his lungs and caresses my ear. “You just have to know,” he says in between breaths.
“Know what?”
He’s cupping my face. His eyes are full of emotion and I can’t think of anything, but how bad I want him to kiss me again and how bad I want to live this moment, entrapped, like we’re snow people in a holiday globe, surrounded by glass and fake snowflakes.
“That you are my heaven.”
I cup his face and kiss him softly. “And you’re mine.”
Epilogue
“Whatever our souls are made of. His and mine are the same.”~ Emily Bronte ~