Fix You
“Let him come over and see you, he’s desperate.”
“I can’t.” The tears that came so easily nowadays were bubbling over from Hanna’s eyes. She kept her lids tightly shut as if she could somehow cage them in.
In five months of sleepless nights, she had spent so much time thinking about her relationship with him, and still couldn’t see a way forward. They had spent some time together—always when he flew over to see her for a stolen weekend—but it wasn’t enough to solve any of her dilemmas. She was never going to fit into his life in New York, no matter how much she tried to change and adapt.
They were at an impasse; there was nowhere for them to go but downhill. She wouldn’t live in New York, and he
was unable to live in London. One of them was going to have to break the cycle.
She wasn’t sure if she was strong enough.
TWO WEEKS LATER, she was taping up the final box when the buzzer signaled the arrival of the removal company. Hanna was pleasantly surprised to see they were fifteen minutes early, and she pulled the door open wide to let them in.
Her heart dropped as soon as she saw Richard leaning on the doorjamb, his hand raking through his hair. His suit was so disheveled, it looked like he’d spent the night in it.
She supposed he had.
“What are you doing here?”
Richard barged through the door, taking in the piles of boxes stacked in the hall. “What the fuck is this?” he asked, holding up an envelope. His tone was soft but his words were harsh, and she winced upon hearing them. “You tried to break off with me in a letter?”
“I didn’t know how to tell you…”
“How about the phone. Or even wait for me to visit you. A fucking letter?” His face was bright red. He lifted the paper up and started to tear it into strips. “What the hell were you thinking…?” His voice trailed off as he looked around the room, taking in the boxes for the first time. “Are you moving?”
Hanna slowly shook her head.
Coming to a stop in front of her, Richard reached out to touch her face, and she found herself stepping backward.
“Then what’s happening?” His voice was too quiet.
“I’m leaving London, I’m planning to travel.”
“Why didn’t you tell me? Were you just going to disappear?”
“I’ve written you a letter.” She felt nauseous, and tried to will her body to calm down. She couldn’t show him that she was falling apart.
“Another fucking letter?” His voice cracked. “Don’t do this, baby, please.”
Oh God, she was going to cry, or throw up, maybe both. She ran to the bathroom, slamming the door shut and turning the lock behind her. For the longest time she knelt on the cold tiled floor, her head bent over the bowl of the toilet, her body heaving. Her hands were shaking as she braced herself against the basin.
When she emerged, he was standing outside, his cell phone in his hand, shouting orders down the mouthpiece. He must have let the removal company in—there were men everywhere; dressed in overalls and carrying boxes and furniture out to the van they had parked in the middle of the street.
Hanna watched as they maneuvered her bed and mattress out of the front door. More than anything she wanted to climb back inside and bury herself under her duvet, and put herself in storage alongside her belongings.
Richard was following her every move as he stood in the middle of the room unsmiling, his green eyes staring directly at her. It was unnerving.
“I catch a flight from Heathrow tomorrow,” she blurted out, just to shatter his silence.
“Where are you going?”
“I’m flying into Sydney.”
“I’ll come and visit you.”
“No!” Her reply was firm. “I need to do this alone.”
“I can’t agree to that.” Any sense of anger had left his voice. Hanna realized that, despite being in the pit of despair, she was the one who was going to have to be strong.