Page 30 of Versions Of Us

We’d swam in the ocean and lazed on the sand. At one point Henley had joined in on a game of beach volleyball with a bunch of other guys he’d known from his time working at the Surf Shack. I was more than happy to lie back and watch, drinking in the sun’s rays.

Later, when the sky had turned from bright blue to a deep violet, streaked with every shade of pink, we’d grabbed some fish and chips from Larry’s Takeaway and taken it to the river.

Sitting there, the only sounds coming from the water lapping at the banks and the occasional caw of a seagull, I’d asked him if he thought we were endgame.

He’d turned to me, that red cap hooding his features and said, “Of course we are. No matter what happens, we’re always gonna find our way back to each other.”

“How do you know that?” I’d questioned.

“Because I love you.” His eyes had shone, the deepening colours of the sunset reflecting in them. “And because I can’t not love you.”

I believed him.

And when I’d spun that red cap around on his head and kissed him, I’d never felt happier than I did in that moment.

The phone rings again and I snap out of it, remembering how I’d set my volume to maximum so I wouldn’t miss his call if I fell asleep. I scramble forward, grasping at it desperately.

“Henley?” My voice comes out muffled with sleep. For a few beats I hear nothing. “Henley? Are you there?”

“Yeah. Yeah, Kristen. I’m here.” He sounds so far away.

Disconnected.

“What’s going on? Where are you? It’s…” I pull the phone away from my ear to glance at it momentarily. “Two in the morning.”

“I’m sorry,” he offers, but his tone falls flat.

“It’s okay, babe,” I say, brushing messy strands of hair out of my face. “Just hurry home. I miss you.”

The silence from his end is deafening, carving an abyss between us.

“I’m not coming home.” His voice is cold, void of emotion.

I huff out a disbelieving laugh. “Wh- what? What are you talking about?”

“I fucked everything up.” This time his voice cracks with the words. “I can’t come back.”

I’m wide awake now, his words ringing in my ears. “Alex, what are you saying?”

“You deserve better than me, Kristen. You always have.”

He sounds hollow, empty.

“You’re not making sense.” I scramble off the couch, suddenly wide awake and unable to sit still. I begin to pace the length of the living room, the TV still glowing from the corner, its volume muted. “Alex, this is insane. You can’t just leave. What about your home, your job?”

“I’ll take care of it.”

“What about me?” I whimper.

“I’m not good for you.”

Henley’s words from last night echo through my head.

It feels like everything is falling into place for us. I don’t wanna fuck this up.

This isn’t the first time I’ve heard him say that. He’s been fighting a war within himself his entire life. I don’t know where this constant doubt that he isn’t good enough has stemmed from, but I don’t have time for it right now. I want him to be here.

Ineedhim to be here.

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