The Thrill Is Gone

“Harvard?” he said in disbelief. “You mean to say after everything we’ve discussed, you’ve gone off and decided to go to Harvard?” his voice was tight, slightly pained, and despite having known all along that he wouldn’t be pleased by her decision, she couldn’t help but feel a bit mad at herself for having been the cause of his distress. “What’s so wrong with Oxford? I thought you loved it here.”

“I do. Honest. I do.”

“Then why Harvard?” he turned to face her. And her breath caught in her throat when she saw the distraught look on his face. “Why not stay here? You’ve already made a life for yourself. You know the area. You’re comfortable, settled. So why trouble yourself by goin’ somewhere you’ve never been? Why not stay here?” he asked, and before she had a chance to answer, he went on. “You’ve the money for it now. That can’t be an issue. And if you’re worried you won’t make due, then . . . then I’ll get us a place around these parts, a cottage. Something small, just enough for the two of us and we can live there, together.”

“You wouldn’t be there,” she reminded. “You’d be at training.”

“I’d have a weekend off every month. I’ll try to make it two. We can have that. There’s no need for you to go to Harvard. Not with Oxford being every bit as prestigious, some might even say it’s better than Harvard. I would.”

“But I wouldn’t.” She abandoned her place on the bed, and moved towards him. “Harvard is Harvard, Henry. And I know that doesn’t make a lot of sense, that doesn’t even explain anything. But for me, simply saying that is enough of an explanation.” She paused, taking the opportunity to look up into his eyes, those beautiful orbs that always shone with adoration, but that were at the present, tormented by anguish, uncertainty. “I . . . I honestly think it’s really sweet of you to offer to get us a home. I'm so grateful that you love me enough to do that. I love you so much, güerito. Te amo. And there’s nothing I adore more than playing house with you, and being here, together. But I can’t live with you, not like that, Henry. I can’t go to Oxford for law. I have to go to Harvard. It’s been my dream my entire –”

“Dreams change though,” he interjected. “I reckon they change all the time. I know mine did. They still do. Loads of people’s do. So why not change yours? Why not go here, to Oxford. Like you said you would.”

“I’ve already changed my dreams,” she whispered. “If you knew what goes on in here,” she touched her temple, “You’d know that there’s been serious changes, but Harvard isn’t something I'm going to change. It’s nonnegotiable.”

“But you went on about Oxford all the time.”

“We went on about Oxford,” she stated. “We discussed whether or not I could come here, we talked in the abstract, bounced thoughts off each other, but I never said I would come here. I only said I was considering it. Look, I know this is a hard thing to hear. It was a really hard thing to say to you, and an even harder decision to make, believe me. I freaked the fuck out for an entire month over this. I lost sleep. I lost weight over this. Can you believe that? Five fucking pounds! I lost five pounds because I was stressing and just going crazy. And I'm sorry that you don’t want me to go to Harvard. I really am. Upsetting you is the last thing I want to do,” she took his hand in hers. “You’re my heart, Henry.”

“Then treat me better,” he mumbled, petulantly.

She couldn’t help but smile. He was using her words against her.

“Would you really want me to be in Oxford, all alone? With my Rhodes friends back in their native countries, with Alfred working in London, and Olivia tucked away hard at work as nurse?”

“You can make friends.” He countered.

“And I’d have to worry about those friends stealing something from my apartment to sell to the press or taking pictures of me to peddle to the media. I know that sounds paranoid, but that’s what I’ve been put through. Not by the Rhodes people, because they know better, but from normal classmates, they’ve sold me out, Harry. And I don’t want to have to make friends with them.”

“But you’re alright with making friends at Harvard?” he questioned, rather gruffly.

“I won’t be.” She said, letting his hand go. “I fully intend to be a bore that goes from her home to lecture halls then to her work as a research assistant and then back home. That’s how I'm planning on spending my time at law school. I'm going to study, and I'm going to do some internships. That’s it.”

“You can do that here, then. There’s no need to go over there.”

“But I'm not gonna go into British politics!” she bellowed.

“And who says you’re going into the American ones?” he snapped.

There it was . . . he’d just admitted to himself something that his mind had toyed with in the late hours of the night, but had never fully acknowledged. Harry knew he wanted to be with her for a very long time, he couldn’t think of his future without imagining her in it, but he’d never – not even privately, in his own mind – acknowledged the fact that he wanted to marry her one day. But now, he’d acknowledged it, now he knew that he wanted her to stay in England so that five or seven years down the line, they could marry, just like Kate and Wills were going to in the near future. He wanted her to wait for him, just as Kate waited for William.

“What’d you say?” she whispered in astonishment.

“Nothing,” he didn’t want to dive into it. He didn’t want to tell her what he thought, what he hoped for their future. They hadn’t even been together a year, not officially at least. That would’ve been too soon a thing to say. That would’ve made her think him some hopeless romantic dunce, and while she was into that, in the movies and books, he didn’t think she’d like it so much in real life, because in his opinion, voicing that sort of thing would be emasculating. “Forget it.”

“If you have something to say . . .” she began.

“I’ve nothing to say,” he snapped, defensively. “Nothing worth saying that’ll change your mind.”

“Why are you acting this way?” she asked, softly. “You’re acting like I'm breaking up with you. All I said was that I'm going to Harvard. You were fine with this before you found out about Oxford. You were talking about how we’d see each other and go about things.”

“Exactly!” he exclaimed. “I was fine before I found out about Oxford. I was fine, because Harvard was closer than Stanford and UCLA and that other one. Harvard was just across the pond when compared to those, but now Oxford’s in the picture. Now you’ve a proper option of staying here, and instead of staying, you’re choosing to run off to America.”

“Come on, you know it isn’t as simple as that. I'm not just choosing to run off to America, because I feel like it! If I had my way, I would somehow make it so that I could attend Oxford and get credit from Harvard or take you to Harvard with me! If I had my fucking way, we wouldn’t have to live in two different countries. But things don’t work like that. And I have spent my entire academic career, working towards the moment that Harvard would deem me worthy!” She paused. “You know how hard you worked for the interview and the test?” she asked him, hoping to get through to him that way.

He nodded.

“Well imagine working that hard for twelve years.”

“Twelve years?” He couldn’t believe that, that was far too long.

“Twelve years,” she confirmed. “I spent two years in junior high working towards getting into the advanced programs in high school, I spent four years in high school in the advanced placement and honors programs, then I drove myself crazy at Stanford for four years so that I could graduate summa cum laude, and here at Oxford, I have spread myself thin to be able to graduate with first class honours, and while I still have a term left to finish, I’ve got that damn degree all but guaranteed. I’ve been working hard for twelve years, and the only reason I’ve been pushing myself that far, why I have pushed myself to be the absolute best and to be recognized as such, is because I dreamt about going to Harvard. And now that dream has become a reality, but it’s gotten jumbled up with my desire to stay here, but I know that I need to do my law degree at Harvard. I know that the future may change, that I might not be what I always dreamt of being, but I have to go to Harvard. I have to do that for myself.” She took a moment to study his expression. She’d hoped that it would’ve soften, that his eyes would’ve no longer shown his distress, but instead understanding, but there had been no significant change in them. “I'm not doing this to hurt us,” she spoke, her voice guilt ridden. “The last thing I ever want to do is hurt you, güerito. Or make you sad. You know how much I love your smile. It’s my absolute favorite.” Hesitantly, she lifted her right hand to his face, and cupped his cheek, allowing her fingers to delicately caress him. “You’re my favorite, güerito. And I love you more than I’ve ever loved anyone, more than I will ever be able to properly express, but after all those years of hard work and sacrifice, I owe it to myself to go to Harvard. And I hope you won’t be mad at me for doing so.”

“I'm not mad . . .” he mumbled.

“You’re not?”

“Can’t be mad at you for that, it wouldn’t be right,” he said. “I'm just not pleased, is all. I want you here, with me.”

“And I want to be with you. I will be with you.” She was about to lower her hand, but he stopped her by placing his atop hers. “I’ve already figured out how often I can come.”

“You have?” he said, his eyes filling with curiosity.

“Of course,” she smiled. “Figuring out how often I could see you was the first thing I did after submitting my statement of intent to register. Well that’s a lie. I had a cry after I’d submitted it. Then I downed a bottle of wine. But after that, I figured out when I could come.”

“And when can you?”

“I’ll be here for your birthday, well, the weekend before your birthday, since your birthday lands in the middle of the week, but you’ll be in training during your birthday – right?”

He nodded in confirmation.

“Okay, well I’ll be here the weekend before your birthday, then I’ll have a four day weekend for Columbus day – not that I really think we should have a national holiday for him, but you know, I’ll fucking take the days so we can be together, then I’ll be here for my Thanksgiving break, that’ll give us five days in November together, if you can get them off training, of course. And then there’s winter break, I'm going to ask if I can take all my exams early, I’ve done that before at Stanford, the professors were very accommodating, and if I can do that, I’ll spend two weeks with my family, and then a week and a half in England with you. But if I can’t get that, it’ll be one week and one week. Then there’s Martin Luther King Jr. Day in January, and there’s President’s Day in February, those each will give us three day weekends together. And then I get a week off for spring break, again, we won’t be able to celebrate the actual birthday together, but we’ll get what we get, and in April there’s no holidays, neither are there any in May.”

“How about the summer?” he asked.

“Half in America with my family,” she replied. “I'm going to intern at Gloria Allred’s for a month or so, and then the other half can be yours, if you want it.”

“Mind if I have you for the first half?" he asked. "Don't reckon I could go so long without seeing you."

“Alright then, you’ll have me from after my exams are done to mid July.” She grinned. “See? We’re going to get to see each other for a weekend every month, just like we would’ve otherwise. I can fly out for it, I’ve got the money, and Harvard gave me ten grand for a scholarship, that would’ve been nothing if I didn’t win that case, but I did, so that money is pretty much spending money. They offered me some loans as well, but I am not getting myself in debt unless I absolutely have to. And I don’t. Not at the moment. So I can fly out. There’s no problem with that.”

“I’ll fly to you as well.” He told her. “It wouldn’t be fair for you to be the only one doing the flying.” A thoughtful look swept across his face.

“What’s wrong?” she asked.

“Nothing, I was only thinking about how much thought you put into it. You’ve dates and everything. Here I was thinking you didn’t . . .”

“Didn’t what?”

“It’s nothing, really. Just being daft, is all.”

“Henry, what was it?”

“You’re gonna think I'm bent.”

“I most definitely don’t think you’re bent. If you were you wouldn’t shag me.” She smiled, playfully.

“Well, I thought . . . that is to say, I thought maybe ya didn’t care about me as much as I thought you did.”

“That doesn’t make you sound bent. That just makes you sound daft.” She tilted her head upwards and captured his lips in kiss, in a soft, sweet little kiss that left a smile on his weather beaten face. “Whenever I make a decision, I always think about you.” She lowered her hand from his face, and he held it in his hands. “That’s why I had such a hard time deciding to go to Harvard, that’s why I looked at the dates to make sure we would have time for each other.” She couldn’t help but notice as a grin tugged at the corners of his lips. “What’s that grin about?”

“Mainly about me realizing how much of a lucky bastard I am,” he let go of her hand, and placed both of his on her shapely hips. “Sorry for being such a wanker. Don’t know what came over me, but I’ll make it up to you, I’ll be supportive and all that.”

“Now that that’s settled, can we get back to what we were gonna do?”

“You want to? Thought you’d be out of sorts for that,” he spoke.

“Me? Out of sorts?” she nearly laughed. “As if I’d ever be out of sorts for that . . .” In one swift movement, she peeled her shirt off and walked towards the bed. “What are you waiting for?”

“You saucy minx . . .” he laughed.

And then he made his way over to her, determined to demonstrate just how much he loved her.