The Thrill Is Gone

Their days in Paris were spent exploring the various destinations that Harry had placed on their travel itinerary. They went on private tours through the Louvre and the Musée d'Orsay, where Paulina listened attentively as their guides shed new light on her favorite artists and their respective works. They strolled around the Jardin du Luxembourg, where she honestly thought they’d somehow stumbled across the Garden of Eden. They went to Parc Disney, and wore silly mouse ears and matching shirts that Harry had gotten them, ages before they even went to Paris. They stood before the Eiffel Tower at dawn, and also at night. They even visited Jim Morrison’s grave, where Paulina left a beautiful bouquet of sunflowers, along with a flask filled with premium whiskey. Harry laughed at her for that, telling her that she was wasting perfectly good alcohol, but she didn’t listen to him. The Lizard King deserved a tribute, and whiskey and sunflowers were it.

Despite sometimes thinking that she was losing her mind a bit, Harry never left her side. He was there during the long strolls that she was so keen to take twice a day, he stood beside her during her appreciations of old buildings, and he took part in hundreds of photographs. It seemed that everywhere they went they had to take a picture, famous landmark or not, Paulina was keen on commemorating the moments, and Harry smiled and held her tight as Kamal and Gethin and Sanjeev took turns taking their pictures.

He went along with everything she did, and despite not having any overwhelming feelings of appreciation for the city, he did enjoy himself, because to see her so in raptures, so completely at ease and brimming with joy, to know that he was the cause of it, made his heart swell with pride.

And that pride, coupled with the joy she brought him and the satisfaction he felt at being the recipient of such tender smiles and loving gazes, was enough to make him repress the painful memory that Paris held for him. He didn’t think of his mum as often as he normally would have. His thoughts only drifted to her when all was perfectly quiet, when the world was still. It was during those moments that he couldn’t help but wonder how terrifying it must have been for her in those final moments, but more often than that, he couldn’t help but wonder what a Parisian holiday with his mother and Paulina would have been like. Would they have linked arms and strolled along the sidewalk together? Would they have laughed and shared embarrassing stories regarding him? He thought mostly of the latter than the former, his mind somehow needing to know – at least in theory – what life would have been like had his mother been around to meet Paulina, but sometimes his mind drifted to the darker aspect, and on the night before they were set to depart Paris, he found himself experiencing one of those moments.

They had spent the day out walking, visiting little shops, buying pastries from local bakeries and basically just having a lazy day around Paris. They didn’t go out to a fancy dinner like they had every single night during their holiday. They went to a little hole in the wall restaurant, a place where mostly locals ate, and tourists rarely stepped foot in. It was because of Gethin that they knew of the restaurant, him and Didier frequented it often when they were in Paris on holiday or to visit Didier’s family. It was a fine day in Paris, which turned into a fine evening, and a perfect night to make love. And it was hours after they’d finished making love that Harry was struck by his nightmare, by a reminder of the devastating loss he sustained when his mother passed away. He imagined himself there, watching helplessly as his mother’s vehicle lost control. He screamed and cried for it not to be so, for his mummy to be alright, but he was a powerless figure in his dream, nothing he could do could change the course of what was to be, and before his eyes, the deadly accident took place, and before his eyes, he saw his mother’s lifeless figure be taken from the wreckage.

It might have only been a nightmare, but it was so vivid, it felt so fucking real that he was left feeling as devastated as he had when he was just a boy. When he was younger, he had nightmares like that all the time. They would leave him shaken and crying, a sobbing mess that could find no comfort in his father’s words or brother’s embrace. In fact, the last time he’d had a nightmare like that he was seventeen, it was the day before the anniversary of her death, and he was inconsolable for days after that. Not being able to shake the images his mind had cruelly tortured him with.

“Mummy . . .” he whimpered as he began to wake. “Please, please don’t leave me. I don’t want you to go. You can’t! Mummy!” he cried.

It was on that final, soul piercing cry that he woke. His eyes snapped wide open as he bolted upright. Tears streamed down his flushed cheeks, his body was drenched in sweat and he struggled to steady his breathing as he continued to replay the nightmare. It’s vividness causing him immeasurable heartache.

“Henry,” spoke Paulina from beside him. She’d been desperately trying to wake him up, but try as she did, she hadn’t been able to. It wasn’t until his mind gave the order that he finally woke. “Amorsito,” she cooed as she took him into her arms. The moment her arm wrapped around his shoulder, was the moment he turned to her, and buried his face into her neck. “Shh, it’s okay, mi corazon. Everything’s alright. I'm here.” She rubbed his back soothingly. “I'm here and I'm not going anywhere. You were just . . . just having a nightmare is all, but you’re here with me now, and I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

“Don’t leave me . . .” he mumbled into her neck. “Please, don’t . . .”

“I'm not going anywhere,” she told him, burying her face into his gingery hair. “I won’t leave you, Henry. I promise.”

“She promised too.” He could remember the day his mother had sat him down and told him that even though she was separating from his dad, that she would never leave him, that he would always be her special boy. “She bloody said she’d never leave me, but she did . . . she fucking did.”

Paulina was taken aback by his words. He never spoke about his mother. Not really. He only mentioned her in passing. Sometimes, he’d comment that she was fond of something or that she’d taken him somewhere, but Diana wasn’t a topic he spoke often on.

“She didn’t mean to, Henry. Things – well, they spun out of control for her. She had no say in what happened. And I know in my heart that the last thing she ever wanted to do was leave you.”

“But she did,” he whispered. “I wasn’t even thirteen. I was a couple of weeks short, and she was there, she wasn’t there to wish me happy birthday or to see me become a little wanker. All I got was a note she’d written for me and a damn present, but all I wanted was her. I just . . . I miss her. Every time I come into this fucking city, I miss her.” He paused, letting out a shaky breath. “I thought it’d be different this time. It was different, being here with you, it made Paris better, but I can’t help but miss her.”

Despite her attempts at being in control of herself, Paulina began to weep. She couldn’t stand to see him suffer. It wasn’t right to see him cry. He was her heart. And she wanted to see him happy. She wanted to make him happy. It pained her to see him grieving. It pained her to know that if they hadn’t come to Paris, he wouldn’t have been suffering. It was selfish of her to have spoken so highly of Paris when she knew his mum had died her. She should’ve just shut up about it. That would’ve been better. If she had, they would’ve been in Edinburgh or Bath. If she had, he would’ve been happy.

“Of course you do, my love,” she said in a shaky voice, her emotions were beginning to overwhelm her. “Your mother was an amazing woman, Henry. She was beautiful and kind, compassionate, caring, she had a heart of gold, and she loved you very, very much. And I bet she misses you every bit as much as you do her.”

Harry pulled away from her, and looked up, his puffy, bloodshot eyes staring intently at her face.

“You think so?” he asked.

“I do.” She smiled affectionately. “I think she’s in heaven, keeping an eye on you, and I think she misses you so much, Henry. I bet she wants to hug you as much as you do her,” her voice cracked. “And I also think she’s very proud of you.” She placed her hand on his cheek. “I think she’s proud of the man you’ve become, and all the good you’re doing for others. You are truly amazing, Henry.”

“You really think so?”

“Yes.” She wiped away his fallen tears. “You’re working hard at your military career, you tend to your royal duties, and you help out so many charities, and even started one of your own. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. You are my favorite person in the whole wide world. And you’re amazing.” She watched as a small smile flickered across his lips. “Now get over here,” she lay down, and patted the spot beside her. “We’re gonna talk.”

“We don’t have to.” He told her. “I don’t want to annoy you. I’ll just grab a drink and then I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not drinking.” She stated. “You’re talking. Now get over here, and tell me what happened.”

He didn’t want to burden her with his nightmare or with his issues over his mother’s death. That was why he never talked about Diana. He rather just have her be an untouchable subject so he wouldn’t end up crying, because that was exactly what happened whenever he thought about her and her death. He always ended up crying. And after over a decade of her passing, he felt that he should’ve already moved on, that he should’ve come to peace with it, but he hadn’t. He hadn’t even visited the tunnel where she’d lost her life.

“It was just a nightmare.” He said, not wanting to drag it out. “I used to have them all the bloody time when I was younger, but then they sort of stopped on their own. Now I only have ‘em when I'm in Paris, but they’re not so vivid, usually. This one was so real that I forgot it wasn’t. Don’t fret though. I'm alright. Honest, I am. It was only a bit of a cry.” He tried to make light of it. “That’s all. I'm sorry for waking you.”

“Don’t apologize for that. I'm here for you, no matter what. I'm your girlfriend, remember?”

He lay down beside her and rested his head on her chest. “I know. I just don’t like talking about what happened. You know, I’ve never even been to the tunnel where it happened. Wills went with my dad once. He said he needed to get some closure so he went, but I haven’t. I can’t bring myself to go. I’ve tried before, but I’ve never been able to. It’s too much. I know it shouldn’t be so hard, not with it having been ages since she passed, but I can’t help it.” His voice grew shaky. “I know I have to go one day, for closure’s sake, but I'm not ready. Not yet. But do you think . . . do ya think that when I am ready, you’ll go with me? I mean, I know it probably sounds a bit morbid, but I . . . I’d be better if you were there, but ya don’t have to if you don’t –”

“Whenever you’re ready to, I’ll be there.” She ran her fingers through his hair. “I’ll be at you side, güerito, through that and through it all.”