With A Heavy Heart

A ROMANTIC SHORT STORY BY LEONORA FRANCIS

Andrew had been the cause of my heartache, and now he was back…

He was just about to make myself a nice hot cup of tea when the intercom to my flat started buzzing.

I wasn’t expecting anyone.

What I was expecting was to switch on my TV, relax with a tub of ice-cream and watch a good film.

Work had been horrendous this last week.

“Tiyana?” I heard when I answered.

I knew the voice instantly and would never forget it, despite not having heard that voice for nearly a year.

“Andrew?” I replied.

“I was passing by and thought I’d come and say hello.”

Passing by? How strange.

By all accounts he was still living on the other side of town.

I could have replied with just a “hello” and cut the intercom, but I didn’t want to seem rude.

It’s just not in my nature.

“Is there anything I can help you with?” I asked instead.

“I tried to call you before coming,” Andrew explained, “but you’ve blocked me from your phone.

“I came to see how you are. You know, how you’re getting on.”

Was he joking?

He wanted to see how I was getting on after nearly a year?

Well, that was ridiculous, but I must say that his voice had my heart beating fast and fluttering a bit.

To distract myself, I looked down at my nails while I continued to hold down the intercom button.

They needed attention.

Perhaps while I’m watching my film I might do a manicure at the same time.

That’s how shocked I was at this sudden appearance of my ex-boyfriend.

I had hesitated long enough for him to ask, “Can I come up?”

My heart took an upswing. Should I or shouldn’t I let him come up?

Out of a perverse curiosity mingled with disbelief, I pressed the button to let him in.

Moments later, there he was, standing in my doorway with rainwater dripping into his eyes.

Had it been raining? I hadn’t even noticed.

His strong arms stood out under his damp hoodie and his caramel-coloured skin was shiny with rain.

He looked at me with eyes that seemed like they could eat me all up.

My cheeks flamed and my heart pounded even more.

He was as handsome as ever.

I really hadn’t expected this response. I thought I was over him.

My heartache returned and sat like a stone in my chest.

I stood aside and let him in.

After closing the door behind him, I retrieved a towel, quickly composed myself by taking a few deep breaths, then walked back to the living-room on shaky legs.

He wiped his face, his arms and his neck.

“Has something happened with your family or something?” I asked, still confused as to why he was here.

He shook his head.

“As I said, I was passing by,” he repeated. “I’ve been thinking about you a lot lately. I thought I’d see how you were doing.

“I hope you don’t mind me arriving on your doorstep like this,” he added.

See how I was doing? After all this time, and after what he had put me through?

I couldn’t form a sensible reply, so I nodded to the sofa.

“Sit down,” I told him. “I’ll put the kettle on.”

I still love him, I thought as I removed another mug from the cupboard.

I adore him, I thought as I stirred in sugar.

He was the only man I ever wanted, but he wasn’t mine to have – not any more.

Andrew took a sip of his tea.

“You remembered how I like my tea,” he remarked.

How could I forget? We’d been together for years.

We’d laughed together, holidayed together.

We’d made plans.

Why did he have to come now, out of the blue, and turn my mind upside down?

“How’s life?” I asked.

“Oh, life’s fine,” he replied. “I’ve been studying mostly. Up-skilling. I’m working towards a promotion.”

I raised my eyebrows.

I wasn’t asking about work, but what did I expect?

A detailed rendition of his life without me and instead with his new lady friend?

“That’s good.” I nodded.

He looked at me and smiled a bright, white smile.

I always said he should audition for a toothpaste advert.

Then he glanced around the room.

“I like what you’ve done with the place. It’s dark and moody with a woman’s touch. Really cosy.

“And I like the wall-to-wall bookcase.”

We had chosen this flat together, and of course he wouldn’t have seen the changes – the olive-painted walls, the deep green sofa that he was shamelessly sitting on . . .

Some items had been gifted by friends.

He wouldn’t have known that all my friends had gathered around to help me decorate when I was at my lowest.

The heartache stone had caused me to fall into a deep depression.

He turned back to me and smiled with his big brown eyes.

How I had once loved those eyes . . .

“You look good, Tiyana,” he remarked, smiling.

I was standing in my house clothes – an old pair of pyjamas with an equally old green wool jumper on top.

I really, really didn’t look good, but it was nice for him to say so.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Why don’t you come and sit down?” he asked.

While I sat down, I realised that he wouldn’t know that when he left I’d resorted to comfort eating and crying a lot.

Once I’d realised I would never cry over a man again, I soon stopped that nonsense and lost the weight I had put on.

But it took a few months with the help of my friends and family to put myself together again.

I remained silent as I watched a drop of water or perspiration slither down his forehead and run into his eye. I couldn’t tell which.

He wiped it away.

He appeared very uncomfortable, and so
was I.

He shuffled in his seat nervously, then opened his mouth to say something, but I got in first.

“Look, Andrew,” I began. “I’m sorry to be so blunt, but what is it you actually want?”

He was a bit taken aback by my tone.

The love I was momentarily feeling while I was making the tea was starting to dissipate quite quickly.

Deep down inside me the pain and heartache he had caused began to shift and move.

For months the agony of him leaving me sat like a stone behind my sternum, reminding me of him every minute of every day.

I’d given him eight years of my life and he was back, it seemed, all smiley and personable.

“I wasn’t actually passing by,” he finally confessed. “I wanted to tell you that I accept I treated you badly.

“I never should have left you the way I did.”

His smile had gone and his lips softened.

His words seemed sincere.

The heartache stone in my chest began to shift.

My pulse slowed.

I remained calm, despite the turmoil he was causing me.

“I made a huge mistake,” he continued. “I should never have left you. Can you ever forgive me?”

I thought about that and let him know from my expression that I was thinking while I came to my decision.

He wouldn’t know that I had finally forgiven him months ago, otherwise I would still be crying to this very day.

“Yes. I forgive you,” I told him. “I forgive you for everything.”

“You do?” His smile was enormous as he rattled on. “I was a fool, Tiyana. Like they say, you don’t realise what you’ve lost until it’s gone.”

“That’s true,” I agreed.

I really am sorry I hurt you, Tiyana.

It was a shame that he hadn’t thought about that at the time.

He never did apologise to me.

An apology at the time wouldn’t have been near enough adequate, but at least he could have said it.

Now his words were so sweet, so tender.

He leaned in towards me and took my hands in his.

I let him.

He squeezed them gently with his sweating palms.

My pulse ran fast again.

The stone I had carried with me all these months ground itself to powder and finally dissipated.

I felt joy come over me – joy that the heartache stone had finally gone.

He was smiling like I was his whole world.

I think he misinterpreted my sudden internal happiness and freedom.

Perhaps he could feel it.

“You have always been kind and understanding, Tiyana,” he said. “I miss you so much.”

He leaned in closer.

I could smell his aftershave – the same aftershave I had bought him for the last five Christmases.

The last time I had seen Andrew, he’d just left me for another woman.

He left weeks before we were due to move in together into this very flat.

Had he been heartless about it? Not really.

“Tiyana,” he’d simply said, “I’ve met someone else at work. I’ve been meaning to tell you for a while, but I couldn’t find the right time.”

We’d talked at length about it.

He said what he needed to say and I said what I wanted to say, and that was the end of that.

Then he’d grabbed his things and left.

But I was glad that he had come around today.

Seeing him in the flesh re-affirmed my position on the matter.

It freed me.

“So what is it you really want to say, Andrew?” I asked. “Why are you here?”

“I’m asking if we can start again,” he said. “If you’re prepared to have me back.”

Quite suddenly, I felt sorry for him. He had made a mistake, as we all do.

I looked into his eyes, which were full of hope and longing.

He had obviously broken up with his new lady friend and I was glad that he spared me the sordid details.

This conversation was about me and him only.

It was difficult to find the right words, so I said what came out naturally.

“I’m sorry, Andrew. I’m not sure that it can work between us,” I told him. “I just don’t think I can trust you in that way any more.

“And to be honest, you can’t promise me that you’d never do it again.”

His expression seemed to go through all the stages of grief.

Eventually, he squeezed my hands gently again and then let go slowly.

I could almost touch his disappointment.

“I can’t say that I blame you,” he said eventually, “but there was no harm in trying, right?”

I gave him a small, reassuring smile.

“No, I suppose there was no harm in trying.”

My heartache stone was built on tears that had solidified and become as hard as stone.

As I walked him to the front door, the detritus from that heartache stone – the tears, the weeping, the grief – thoroughly dissipated and helped me come to the right decision.

At the doorway he gave me a soft peck on the cheek.

I knew we would never meet again. At least not on purpose.

“Look after yourself, Andrew,” I said, meaning it.

“You, too.” He smiled, then left.

I wondered briefly if other women out there, in the same position as me, would have come to the same decision.

All I knew was that the decision not to take him back was right for me.

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