Marching On

Lavin was plagued with thoughts of the past; of her breakup with Harry; her friendship with Tom and their year-long relationship.

She sat on her bed once she was back at the flat, resting her elbows on her thighs and her face in her hands. Lavin traced her eyebrows and swiped around her eyes with her fingertips, instantly wishing she hadn't gone out tonight.

Lavin hadn't been joking when she told Tom that fate caused them to bump into each other. It was as if her ancestors were pushing this man into her life again, seeing as he had many attributes that Denmark looked for in a prince consort.

"Thanks, you bastards," she exhaled as she fell backwards onto her comforter.

After a few moments Lavin stood and stripped out of her outfit, replacing it with an old pair of yoga pants, sports bra and loose-fitting tank. In the mirror, she watched herself as she pulled her long hair into a ponytail.

Her phone buzzed inside her clutch. Half of her heart wanted it to be Harry; the other half hoped it was Tom. Lavin extracted her iPhone. The screen was still lit with the notification:

Harry Wales
Text Message

She read it aloud: "I wish you were here, luv. William is on the bar without a shirt." She laughed and began typing back when another message came through.

The top bar lowered. iMessage from Tom: Are you still at the bar? Turns out my friend only needed to be put to bed.

Lavin almost screamed. "For fucks sake," she said out loud, "of course this is happening right now."

Instead of answering either of them she turned her phone off and flung it into the corner of her room. Lavin then grabbed all the throw pillows that littered her bed and covered her phone with them.

Out of sight, out of mind.

She wouldn't be tempted by either man now. Lavin would just lie if they questioned her tomorrow.

What to do now? She wondered as she stood in the middle of her room.

She remembered the journal she kept during her years at university and she opened her closet doors to begin the search. After tossing stray shirts and mismatched socks around she found it wedged between yellowing drawing paper and old fashion magazines.

It cracked when she tugged for it from years of pressure and settled dust. She wiggled it back and forth, this only added to her frustration, but finally it came loose.

The leather was soft in her hands and looked nearly identical to the one she had got Gen for Christmas with brown ties holding the pages together.

Lavin sat with her legs folded underneath her and stared at it. Did she want to open it and relive those memories again?

She took a breath and pulled the cords from their squashed bow and opened the thick cover, creaking as it turned. Lavin flipped through the pages scanning for a certain date.

And she found it a quarter of the way through: March 5th, 2006.

So...I broke it off with Harry last night. I phoned him after I couldn't get to sleep, it was around 4AM his time. It sounded just like he'd woken up and as soon as I heard his voice I started to cry.

And, in true Harry-fashion, he asked me what was wrong and how he could help when he should be more worried about his own well-being in Afghanistan. I felt like I should have asked how I could help him, but instead I told him how hard it is to be away from each other.

I constantly worry. When I wake up. Getting ready for my day. During lectures. When I'm studying. When I'm eating. When I'm out with friends. And especially when I try to fall asleep.

I told him I can't concentrate on anything because I spend my entire day worrying about if he's alive or not.

He stayed silent for a while and I begged him to say something. Finally he did and I could tell he was crying. All he said was "Okay, Lav. I understand. I'm sorry."

I hate myself for doing this but I need to focus on myself right now. If I failed out of school my family would disown me. How would it look if a future queen of Denmark couldn't even make it through university?

I'd be the laughing stock of my nation.

Hot tears were running down Lavin's cheeks, fat and sloppy. Those horrible, self-loathing feelings had enveloped her once again. It was as if she stepped back into 2006 and had made the early morning phone call to Harry.

Quickly she flipped through a dozen pages, hoping to forget that memory as quickly as she had come upon it.

The next entry she read was from a week after their breakup.

I feel lighter now without the burden of worrying constantly about him. My grades are looking up; my professors even noted an improvement in my attitude.

Tom has been a great friend through all this. He's let me cry to him over a dozen of times because I still worry about Harry. But it is getting easier.

Tom is thoughtful enough to bring coffee for me every morning we walk to class together. And he knows just how I like it: hazelnut creamer with three lumps of sugars.

I'm so lucky to have a friend like him.

Lavin shook her head in disgust.

"The burden of worrying about him!?" she exclaimed, loathing her own words.

If one thing was obvious about herself at twenty-one was that she was obscenely selfish.

A month later in the journal was another entry she found interesting. It was dated mid-April, like it was now.

Tom slept over last night. We shared my bed, but don't worry! All we did was talk and make each other laugh.

He looked so nervous when I told him to hop under the covers which is so out of character for him. He's very confident in his studies and his interactions with people. But I've seen him try to talk to girls, especially ones that he has a bit of a crush on and...well, he's a bumbling idiot.

I know I have feelings for him, but I'm not sure if I should get into another relationship so soon. And I'm not sure if I want to risk ruining our friendship despite my knowledge of his feelings for me.

I don't remember falling asleep but the next morning I found myself wrapped up in his arms. It was nice to have someone to sleep next to again.

And, interestingly enough, we didn't talk about Harry once nor did I think about him last night.

The tears were still coming but now she was an emotional mess. Not only had she felt the certain fluttery-feelings of a crush forming in her gut, but also absolute hatred for herself and her written words. And how she regarded Harry so brusquely.

Lavin threw the journal back into the closet with such force that she was sure it left it dent in the wall.

Reading those entries did nothing for her as she knew it might have. But...she did realize something.

Lavin made her decisions based of convenience and for her family--her bad grades would have humiliated her family, and thus she gave up the person influencing those grades.

Now, she was afraid history was going to repeat itself.