The Dull Ache of Wondering Why

When Beth heard Harry on the stairs, she smiled. She had made breakfast and she was eager give to him and gauge his reaction to it. What she saw when she looked into the foyer was not a man ready to eat. He was dressed for the road. His trench coat and suitcase very reminiscent of her father's attire when he left for the road. What stung her, if only a little bit, was the sad look on Harry's face. It was a pained look. Even under his hat, she could see his forlorn gaze and drooping eyebrows. His mouth was in a kind of half frown. He was sad to be leaving, but leaving just the same. He was resigning. Mr Shaibel's lesson coming around again, but in a different fashion. If Harry was resigning, she was the winner, right? But what did she win? The ache in the back of her head was not just a hangover. The twisting in her guts was not how a win was supposed to feel. Should she have let him say it. Last night. Last week. Whenever it was that he was going to ruin a perfectly fine evening by telling her that he loved her. Should she have just let him. What would her her silent stare tell him? That she did not love him. It would have told him the truth and it would have caused him to leave sooner and she did not want that. She did not want him. She wanted companionship. She wanted sex and alcohol and drugs to wipe away the pain of...an empty house. The sex should have been enough for Harry. It should make him stay. He said he liked it. But he seemed so reserved when it was over. Whom was reserved when it was over, Harmon? It wasn't him. You were smoking cigarettes and ignoring him. Like a high priced hooker. She didn't love him, though. Did she? Did she truly love anyone? Perhaps, the ghosts of two dead mothers.

She listened as Harry explained himself. So much a gentleman and yet so much weaker than she. She watched as he placed the small jar of pills on the table. He warned her. Warned her to be careful. When had she ever been careful? When had she ever looked ahead? When had she looked outside of the tunnel which was her field of vision? Harry was had been trying to drill this into her and she simply wasn't having it. Was she? She had learned from him, though. He had taught her to broaden her perspective. His persistence was a wedge which pried open the tightly locked box of her consciousness. She had no idea if his teaching could help her game. She was...

He was leaving. She watched, silently, having only allowed a few words in response, before he was out the door and down the front steps. She went to window and watched as she put his suitcase in the trunk and drove away. From the window she could not see if looked back. She hoped he had. But why? She stood at the window for a long time after he had gone. She had no tears. She had no desire to chase after him. But she could feel that something was gone. Something important. If there were holes in her heart, she paid them no mind. This would simply be another one that she would would fill with a fat bottle of whiskey.