chapter five

I BLEW A strand of hair out of my face, locking the carts together then shoving the line towards the entrance of the store. Once in place, I grabbed a handful of my hair and fanned the back of my neck with it. I didn't have a hair-tie, and quite frankly, I didn't like my hair in a ponytail. Not in public, at least.

Chelsea, a fellow cashier, called me over to help bag an elder woman's groceries. I threw on my most convincing smile, even managing to trail along with conversation. She was genuinely very sweet and couldn't stop talking about her grandkids. They were the reason she had been getting so much stuff, after all. And yet, when the price continued to climb higher, the woman kept chuckling and gushing.

"Would you like help out today, ma'am?" I asked, as I was told to do or else I probably wouldn't. It just meant more time for said person in need to judge me.

"Oh, yes dearie. These old legs aren't as strong as they used to be," she said, then dived right back into rambling about the mass of children she constantly had around her.

She held my arm while we walked, and the poor thing could hardly move at a normal pace. She pointed to her car with a shaky finger, shocking me when I saw she was further back. I had expected her to be in a handicap spot. She must've read my thoughts because she said it was meaningless for her to take up space someone else might sincerely need.

I didn't bother bringing up old age as a potential necessity, positive she would wave away my comment. She definitely didn't appear to be the type to let numerous years weigh her down. So I kept quiet and helped her pack her groceries into the trunk of her 2002 Buick Century. A typical "old person" vehicle, she said.

"You remind me of my sixth granddaughter," she told me with a bright smile, eyes wrinkling until you could barely see them. "Very quiet, very polite, but very stiff. Tell me, how are you doing, dear?"

A bit taken aback, I stumbled over my words. "Oh, well, I'm... I'm fine, I suppose."

Her frail hand came up to my shoulder where she gave it a gentle pat. "One day you'll sound more confident in your answer."

Still slightly bewildered, I couldn't think of a reply quick enough. She was in her car and I was moving out of the way so she could back out. She winked at me when she drove past, so I waved, holding her statement she left me with close to my heart.

One day.

With an actual smile on my face, I wheeled the cart back into the store. I lifted my hair again to allow air to hit my neck, sighing in relief at the coolness. It was hot today, but it was the middle of September. I wanted sweater weather, hot chocolate and a fireplace. The outdoors would be close to enjoyable if it weren't so scorching under the sun.

"Most women try a thing called ponytails," a familiar voice said. "Maybe you could try it."

I turned to see Harry, my chest constricting. I figured he'd show up sooner or later, but it was sooner than I'd been wishing for. I didn't want to talk to him. I didn't want him to keep lying to me, to keep acting as if he knew all that I'd been through. He was a faker just like everyone else, and I hated him for being so good at it.

Lifting my chin a little higher, I began walking off. I heard him sigh before his footsteps followed mine, and he began speaking instantly.

"You didn't come Wednesday or today and I got worried about you. I'm sorry I upset you, Delilah, okay? I truly am. I was just hoping you'd see your situation from a different perspective and..." He trailed off because I had stopped walking.

He wasn't wrong. I didn't go to Wednesday's session, and I did skip today's. I was still frustrated with how Monday's session went. He had gotten too nosy, too cocky. He was reading me as if I were an open book and I didn't like that. He wasn't allowed to do that. I never gave him permission to search for answers he was apparently desperate to find.

He didn't comprehend that there were no answers. He had questions, but they meant nothing. Why did he have questions? It wasn't his place to be concerned, not about me. Especially not about me. I was simply his next victim whose self-esteem was nonexistent, and he could take advantage of that. He didn't care. He was manipulating me. I knew he was.

"There's no other perspectives to look from," I said, still not facing him. "Even if there were, it's none of your business."

"Why is it so wrong for me to be worried about you?" he asked, sounding defeated yet simultaneously determined. Like a little boy getting bullied who was on the verge of tears but refused to be exposed. But most of all, he sounded exasperated. Why wouldn't he be? Everyone got irritated with me.

"Stop pretending."

I could picture him raking his hands through his hair. "Delilah, I'm not pretending. Despite what you may think--"

Whirling around to face him, I snapped. "No, just stop! Despite what you may think, I'm not stupid, Harry. I know when people are manipulating me and you're just... you're just..."

Why was it so hard to admit aloud?

Harry glanced around us, at the few people who turned. He carefully grabbed my wrist, gingerly tugging me outside. I pulled away from him as soon as we were out of earshot of others. My heartrate was picking up and my fingers were feeling numb and I was suffocating. Fresh air surrounded me yet I was being swallowed by a black hole, never to be seen again.

"What am I, Delilah?" asked Harry quietly, staring deep into my eyes like we were exchanging dangerous secrets.

I pushed his shoulder, but it was a weak move. I didn't want to hurt him, even though he was lying to me. Even though he kept faking and faking and faking. He didn't look away from my eyes and I despised myself from not being able to look away from his.

"I told you the other day," I mumbled. "You're an actor. You're just waiting to... to humiliate me whenever the opportunity comes around. That's what people like you do. You belittle and crush everyone that's not good enough and..." I gulped the lump in my throat. Don't be pathetic. Don't give him anything else to use against you.

"You've known me a month now," he said. "Don't you think an opportunity like that would've come up by now?"

"No, and that's why you started being so nosy. Gaining more knowledge so you can put on a big show," I grumbled the words, finally tearing my gaze from his. Eyes that look so caring yet are so deceiving.

"And you honestly believe that I'm that type of person?"

I didn't answer.

Harry used his index finger to gently turn my face back to his. There were those false eyes of serenity, breaking me one glance at a time. Staring for too long hurt too much, all the things that could be if he weren't acting so well.

My heart was beating fast still, my fingers growing more numb, the lump in my throat swelling. Tears pricked my eyes and my throat was closing in. Air was escaping me and I was panicking, suffocating and falling into the black hole quicker and quicker.

He was here and he was staring at me, so kind and caring. I wanted that to be true so badly, but knew it was just a trick. He didn't care. He couldn't possibly. I was merely a client making him money, that's why he was worried. He didn't want to lose the extra cash. He didn't care about my wellbeing.

Justin wasn't here, but I could feel him staring at me too. Eyes so cruel and sad and I was the cause of it. I was a failure, a letdown, a petty excuse of a girlfriend. A petty excuse of a human in general. I wanted him to care; needed him to care. I was falling and he wasn't catching me, wasn't even reaching for my outstretched hand. He was letting me go, and day by day the distance between us grew.

I needed to start preparing myself for rock bottom because it was getting closer and closer, more and more unavoidable.

I must've lost my balance because Harry had his arms around me. He was speaking, a distraught look in those deceitful eyes. I couldn't hear him. My head was nearly submerged, drowning and suffocating and dying. Justin with his hand raised, Harry with his lies, my stomach with an aching hunger. When had I last eaten? I couldn't remember.

We were on the ground now, my chest heaving uncontrollably. My hands were shaking and Harry clutched them, as if it would help. It probably would have if I hadn't been refusing to give in, to let him win. I wouldn't lose another battle.

Harry asked if he should call an ambulance. I think I shook my head. He didn't argue and I was glad. He simply stayed near me, one arm around my shoulders and his other hand cradling mine. What was I doing? I was letting him win. How could I do that? I needed to snap out of this stupor and pull myself together.

A man and a woman came over, the same look of distress in their eyes. I realized then that everyone faked, and everyone was good at it. They were fooling so many people, and even I slipped up when Harry engulfed me in his arms. The desperation for sincerity was overwhelming, but I wouldn't fall for their disguises. I had to be stronger than that.

When my breathing began to pace itself once more and my hands lessened their rapid shaking, I managed to wipe the water from my eyes. The three were staring at me with such false concern, it was painful.

"Are you okay?" the woman with chin-length blonde hair asked, pressing the back of her hand to my forehead as if checking for a fever.

I tilted my head away from her. "I'm fine. Thank you."

"Do you need anything?" inquired the man.

I need to stop being lied to.

"No, but I appreciate it."

The couple exchanged looks, talked to Harry and me a bit more before entering the store. Harry helped me to my feet and he wouldn't stop watching me, like he knew I was on the verge of crumbling apart. It was what he wanted and I couldn't let that happen. Confronting him hadn't worked, so now I must play the part. Deceive the deceiving, trick the tricksters. I wouldn't give him the satisfaction of winning.

"Was it something I said?" His voice was barely audible. "I'm sorry, Delilah. I didn't know... I didn't...." He pursed his lips, eyes still boring into mine. "Are you sure you're all right?"

"I'm still alive, aren't I?" I tried to smile with my words and hoped it was as convincing as he was.

Harry didn't seem to buy it. "Was that... a panic attack?"

I shrugged. "I get them occasionally."

"You act like it's not a big deal."

"Lots of people get them--a lot more severe than me. I'm not going to make a big deal out of nothing."

I started to walk off and stumbled a little, a dull throb forming in the back of my skull. Harry cupped my elbow to steady me, but then wouldn't let me take another step. His act had to drop sooner or later. How much more would he badger me before giving up?

"How can I get you to trust me, Delilah?"

I blinked a few times and gave a slight shake of my head. "You can't get me to trust you, Harry."

His green eyes searched mine for far too long. I willed myself to not unravel, to hold my composure, stand my ground. He would not win. He could not win. And still, he kept surprising me. "Will you have lunch with me tomorrow?"

"You've got Desiree again?"

He shook his head. "No. Just me."

I swallowed, a knot twisting in my stomach and my headache was growing. "Is this a trick?" I whispered. It hadn't meant to be said aloud, but Harry had heard it.

"No," he said. "This isn't a trick. Just me and you having lunch together. Nothing tricky about it. Besides, you missed two sessions. I think you owe me." He smiled. Was he teasing me? Using reverse-psychology to make me think a trick wasn't a trick at all?

Don't cave in. Keep playing the part.

"Fine," I told him. "But on two conditions: you can't be nosy and you can't lie to me."

His smile stretched and he laughed in what sounded like relief. "Well, you could've at least made the conditions challenging."