We live in a fantasy world, a world of illusion.
The great task in life is to find reality
As I walked up James’ front steps, I was beginning to regret my hasty decision. I turned around and looked pleadingly at Gina who was sitting in my parked car across the street. She turned up the stereo so even I could hear it, and nodded towards his front door before turning the radio down again.
She was right. I was right. I couldn’t just ignore him after the way I’d stormed out on him last night. I just hadn’t been able to handle it. It was all going too fast, and I had been confused. But I still had to say sorry.
I rang the bell, the shrill blast making me jump. A few minutes passed, and it seemed like he wasn’t home. I turned and shrugged at Gina, and then started walking back down the stairs.
‘Hannah?’ I heard him say behind me as the door opened. ‘Hannah, wait!’
I turned around. ‘Hi James. I just came over to say….I needed to talk to you.’
‘Okay,’ he said. ‘Do you want to come inside?’
‘Okay,’ I said. ‘But only if you’re not busy, you know, because I can always come by another time…’
I was rambling now. And James was grinning at me.
‘Come on.’
As I walked through his front door into the living room, I was struck by how untidy everything was, with some things still in moving boxes, and the rest strewn across the tables and the floor.
‘Did you just move in?’ I asked him, looking across the room.
He looked at the messy room. ‘No. I’ve been here a couple of months,’ he said, seeming embarrassed. ‘But you never know when you’re going to have to move out. I’ve moved around a lot these past few years.’
‘But how do you find anything?’
‘Everything has its place in the mess,’ he said. ‘For example, the TV remote is always under this pile of dirty laundry.’ He lifted up the pile to demonstrate.
‘Anyway, what did you want to talk about?’
I looked out the window, then slowly turned my gaze on James.
‘I just wanted to say sorry,’ I said. ‘I’m really sorry I ran away last night, and I thought you deserved an explanation.
‘See, I used to have this friend- I guess you could call him my boyfriend. I loved him, not just in that way, but more than anything, I loved him as a friend, like a brother. I’ve known him since I was twelve. We were so close; it was as if we were one person. We went through so much together.
‘We started going out, and everything was great. But- but then…’
I gasped, and the one thing I hadn’t wanted to happen happened. I started crying. James started coming towards me, but I stopped him. I steadied myself and started talking again, tears still sliding my cheeks.
‘One night, about five years ago, he was out, and I wasn’t feeling myself because I hadn’t seen him in a while. Then this guy came in, who I know had liked me since I was fifteen, and of course I said hello. But then he started kissing me, and he was so strong, I couldn’t get him off.
‘Then my boyfriend came in from work, and saw him kissing me. He just stood there, staring, while this other guy backs off. And then he left. He was my best friend. I never saw him again.’
Tears seemed to drown me as James came up and wrapped his arms around me tight, as if he were protecting me from the pain. I cried like I never had before, letting him absorb my sadness until I could give no more.
‘So that’s why I ran last night. It was all going too fast for me. I didn’t want to hurt you. I don’t want to hurt myself again.’
‘Shhh…that’s okay. I had no idea what you had been through. I don’t have any right to rush you.’
‘I’m still sorry. And I also want you to know that I haven’t felt as close to anyone as I feel to you in a long time.’
James smiled down at me, then realised he still had his arms around me and quickly let go.
‘Do you want some tea…coffee…poisonous substances…?’
‘Just- just tea thanks.’
While James went off to make the tea, I sat down on the couch, taking all the loose paper off first. As I wiped the tears from my eyes, I noticed his coffee table seemed to be the only tidy thing in the room, with only a couple of books and some photos in frames. I only glanced at the books, as I had read other books by that author and hadn’t enjoyed them, but the pictures stopped me in my tracks.
I knew them. There were some of his friends I’d met last night, but those weren’t the ones I was looking at. The only ones I saw were people I hadn’t seen for five years, people I hadn’t thought I’d be seeing again.
As I saw their faces, memories flashed through my mind. Memories of adventure, of love, of danger, of friendship. It was like watching scenes from a movie, but it was me who was starring. Me and Harry and Ron.
How did James have these pictures?
I looked at Harry’s face, smiling but serious, brave yet afraid. It had always been like that. His eyes; his deep, beautiful eyes. Where had I seen them recently? And his hair, sticking up on end like it always was, seemed more familiar than usual as well. His glasses, for once, seemed out of place. Why did it feel like they shouldn’t be there?
James. Harry. Harry. James. Harry James Potter.
James was Harry. And as suddenly as I realised this, I also realised that I hadn’t noticed, hadn’t recognised him. I’d been completely blind to what was right in front of me.
Frantically I searched through the papers that I’d taken off the chair for proof of this unbelievable conclusion I’d brought myself to. What’s his last name?
Eventually I found a bank statement among various emails from his friends and workmates. The thing that I had been looking for was looking me right in the face.
To Mr James Evans.
Did he know? Should I tell him? Questions were spinning around in my head, being obscured by the strange swooping sensation that I was feeling in every fibre of my being. I’d found Harry.
He came out of the kitchen, carrying two cups of tea. I quickly jumped up, trying to look upset still, but inside, my heart was soaring.
‘I gave you milk but no sugar,’ he said. ‘I hope that’s ok.’
‘Just the way I like it,’ I said, taking the cup and sipping from it.
After a few minutes of silence while we drank our tea, I asked him something.
‘Do you believe in miracles, James?’
He looked at me strangely for a moment. ‘I suppose so. Why?’
I smiled into my teacup. ‘Just wondering.’
***
I’m seeing him everywhere now. None of that occasional glimpsing through the fog, or hearing his voice in the wind. I don’t even see his eyes underneath my lids when I go to fall asleep. No, this is nothing like I’ve read about in books. Instead of the rare memories that make me cry once in a while, it’s as if he’s haunting me, stalking me. The thought of him is all that fills my mind.
It’s as if he’s reminding me of what happened-knowingly and willingly causing me pain. Even the good dreams are like nightmares, the happy memories filling me with guilt and keeping me awake at night.
I can’t help but wonder sometimes if he feels this way too. Does he roll over in bed, only to find an empty pillow beside him? Does he see happy couples walking in the park and wonder if that will ever be him? Does he think he will ever get over the pain? Or is he already over it? The thought of him makes me want to scream aloud with the pain.
His memory is torturing me, but still I don’t want to forget.
luv all of you guys who are reading... although I wish more people would read, I think this is one of my better ones.
luv ya lots,
chlo xoxo