Andy stood at the door, deciding if this was a bad idea. He fingered the key, his key, willing himself to put it in the lock. He hadn't seen the key in a few weeks. When he'd moved out of the condo, he'd left it on Sharon's nightstand for her. He wouldn't be needing it. When Sharon left his house earlier in the afternoon, she'd left the key with her note, a simple note, in her beautiful handwriting, saying, "Please, come by when you can," with his key in it. Funny, a key he'd only had over the last year and a half or so meant so much to him, or it had. He hated leaving it and walking away from it when he'd moved out, but he knew, at that point, it wasn't his to keep anymore, just as Sharon, when she'd said no wasn't his to love anymore either. That was still going to take time, if he ever fully realized that. He wasn't sure why Sharon left the key; he figured that she might be in deep thought on the balcony or something and didn't want to miss hearing him knock, no matter when and if he came, so she'd left the key. Because, to be honest, he had to talk himself into going to see her. Sure, he wanted to, but he didn't know what would come of it. He'd had enough hurt for a lifetime at this point, and he literally didn't know how much more his heart, in all aspects, could take.
He'd made it this far, so he figured now or never. Andy took a deep breath, felt the cold metal of the key in his hand, and put it in the lock. He looked around, expecting to see Sharon somewhere in view. A sweep of the place, and she wasn't there. He knew she was there, at least. He'd parked in his old spot downstairs in the parking garage, next to her, and her car was there. The condo was silent, and he didn't see her. Andy almost tripped over the bags by the front door, very un-Sharon like. He frowned looking at them, trying to figure out what was going on.
"Sharon?" he called out, checking the kitchen and again the balcony, no sign of her. He didn't think she was there, but he had to check. He started down the hall to their bedroom, scratch that, now Sharon's bedroom, and he called again, "Sharon?" This time, he heard a rustling in her room, and he stepped in. It was a mess, but she wasn't in sight. The closet light was on, and he knew from experience that even with a small condo, that closet was huge, and you couldn't hear much inside of it.
"Sharon?" he called again, now more toward the closet. He didn't want to scare her. This time, he heard movement, so he stepped back, into the doorway so she had room to get out.
"Andy?" she called out as she made her way out of the closet. When she saw him, her eyes met his, and she gave him a sad smile, "You came."
"Sharon, why did you want me to come over, and why is this place such a mess? You hate messes," he said as he took another look around. As he said that, he looked back to her. She was a mess too. Her immaculate appearance was anything but at the moment. She was in casual clothing, capri pants, sandals, and a t-shirt, but her hair was a mess. It looked like she'd clipped it up, but it was going everywhere. Her makeup was off, not that it mattered, but still, this wasn't Sharon.
Sharon moved the hair out of her face and touched his chest as she moved past him into the hall. He followed her only because she hadn't said a word since the 'You came' comment, and he was utterly confused at the moment. He almost ran into her, as she stopped near the front door; he'd thought she was walking to the kitchen or dining room to sit and talk, but she stopped by the door, and in one quick swoop, she grabbed the bag, turned, and thrust it into his hand.
"Sharon, what is going on? Would you please talk to me?" he said, now agitated. "I'm almost beginning to wonder why I came."
Sharon delicately touched his wrist with her hand, and she looked up to him, "I'm going home."
He raised an eyebrow at her, looking around, and then he caught on, "Your running again? That's just great, Sharon, really mature. So, you need a ride to the airport? Running now to your parents, I guess? Emily didn't feel sorry for you, so now you're going to people who may? Sharon, I know Rusty was busy this evening, but I don't think I can be your ride to the airport. If this is goodbye, then let's get it over here," he sighed, putting the bag down.
She nodded, looking down, and then looking up at him, "Andy, I've made enough of a mess of things; I am more than aware of that. I'm done doing that now. I'm going home, and you aren't going to stop me. You can either go and load my bags into the car now, or I'll do it myself. Andy, my home is with you."
