AN: With all of this isolation and social distancing, I'm thankful that sallysaysrelax reminded me that today is Wednesday. I'm also thankful for all those that are hanging around for this story I apologize for the ending of the last chapter. It just happened. And, as a warning, you probably aren't going to like me much better at the end of this one. I'm sorry. My muse is what it is-a little bitch.

Chapter 4

"You son of a bitch. I hate you!" she screamed, as he made his way down the driveway and turned the corner to walk down the road.

He vowed not to turn back. "Just keep walking. It's what you have to do." He mumbled the mantra over and over. The wind had picked up and was bitterly cold. Henry squeezed his eyes closed to keep his tears from freezing in them. He breathed in and out, repeating the words in his head, focusing on the sound of the remnants of snow on the cleared path crunch beneath his feet.

Her words, "I hate you," echoed in the stillness of the snowy midday. Her words reverberated in Henry's head and he flinched, but he did not stop walking. He continued to put one foot in front of the other, repeating his mantra. "Just. Keep. Walking."

He couldn't bear to turn around and see what he'd done. Henry knew she thought he was abandoning her, just like her parents, her aunt and her brother, but he didn't know what else to do. He had feelings for her. If he was 30 and she was 26, four years was a non-issue. But, he was nineteen and she was fifteen. She was fifteen and hurting, vulnerable. Elizabeth trusted him. She had looked at him with those clear blue eyes, open and willing to do whatever he asked. He couldn't, no, he wouldn't take advantage of the situation like that. And so, Henry marched onward out into the street, planning never to return to Virginia Preparatory Academy.

March 1984

Henry's eyes shot open; his heart pounding wildly in his chest. He struggled to regain control of his breathing. Pushing himself up on one elbow, he tried to make his eyes focus. Dim light from the streetlamps outside pushed in around cheap, metal mini blinds. His dorm room came into focus and Henry remembered where he was. Sitting up fully, he took in the sharp industrial angles of the furniture in his dorm room and scrubbed his hand over his face. His stubble was rough, feeling foreign to him. He let out a slow breath.

Nightmares were a frequent occurrence as of late. They always started the same. His mother was dead. He stood over her casket looking at her body, and it was Elizabeth who stood beside him, holding his hand. The warmth of her hand seemed to hold a lifeline-proof that he could still feel love, that he was worthy of such a relationship. Suddenly, the ground opened, swallowing up the casket. Henry looked to Elizabeth for comfort, but she evaporated into nothingness, leaving a deep hole in his heart.

Sighing, Henry pressed his hand to his chest, hoping to ease an ache that consumed his entire body. It had been two months since he'd left a crying Elizabeth standing on the steps of her dorm. There wasn't a moment that went by that he didn't think of her. Rationally, he knew he was grieving the loss, but knowing didn't make it any easier. Every thought brought all of the longing and guilt he felt to the forefront. He bowed his head and prayed that she was doing okay and that one day she would forgive him, that he could forgive himself.

He slipped his fingers between the dingy slats of the blinds and pried them open, just wide enough to peer out into the darkness. Everything was still, the frozen ground was barren, a feeling with which Henry was well acquainted.

Just like when Henry returned to school after his mother passed, he focused all of his energy into schoolwork and campus activities. Pushing his mind into overdrive, he memorized quote after quote, details of religious texts, historical documents. Each night he fell into bed so exhausted that he fell into a stilted, dreamless sleep. He was just as exhausted when he woke the next morning, but he continued to push himself.

As each day passed, Henry found that he was able to carve out a few more minutes, time when he could focus on something besides Elizabeth. After several months, she could cross his mind and he would not immediately fall into despair. It was then that he decided it was time that he needed to push Elizabeth out of his mind for good.

October 1985

Henry pulled out a heavy wooden chair, and the squeak of wood against wood echoed through the room. He fished a book out of his backpack and set it down, before dropping the bag in a heap beneath the edge of the well worn walnut table. The pub was nearly empty at three in the afternoon. Only he and the handful of other religion majors loitered in the space.

Henry looked out across the room, and watched the afternoon sun pour into the front window, illuminating tiny dust particles floating in the air. Familiar banter wafted about and Henry waved the waitress over and ordered a beer.

He observed the way her too tight jeans hugged her ass and the thought of how she would feel against him flitted through his thoughts. He grimaced and pushed the notion away. Not now-and not her. As religious discussion abounded and the beer kept flowing, Henry relaxed. The evening wore on and the religious book club group morphed into the happy hour business crowd, which was soon replaced by the get drunk college crowd.

Henry sat against the wall, silently observing. His table held a red plastic basket containing only a red and white checkered square of waxed paper littered with bread crumbs and a dollop of ketchup. Lined up next to the basket were eight, empty, amber colored bottles looking like they were waiting to receive marching orders.

He held the ninth between his index finger and thumb, swirling the last bit of liquid around the bottom before wrapping his fingers around the neck, tipping it up, draining it into his throat. He eyed the redhead at the end of the bar. She grinned at him.

Henry flagged the waitress down and as she approached the table, the woman in her too tight jeans let her eyes travel between Henry and the army of bottles. "You think you need more?"

Henry raised an eyebrow. "Yeah, one more, and buy Red another of whatever she's having." The waitress's eyes darted toward the end of the bar where they met the girl's. With a slight nod, she scuttled off to fetch the beer and Henry watched her speak to the bartender who looked to Henry.

Henry observed as two ice cubes clinked into the tumbler and the man upended the bottle of whiskey, pouring two fingers, before sliding it down the bar. When the woman made eye contact, the bartender gestured toward Henry. She turned and he offered a smile.

Eyebrows raised, the woman turned her attention back to the drink. She quickly clutched the glass and elevated it, letting the full amount disappear into her mouth. She set the tumbler down on the bar, pushing it away from her. The glass grated against the wood until it came to rest in the bartender's hand.

Sliding off the barstool, her heels clicked in an uneven rhythm on the concrete floor, as she sauntered toward Henry, only a little unsteady. Coming to a stop in front of him, she held out her hand. "I'm Tabitha."

He wrapped his fingers around hers, and found them to be warm, slightly damp. Maybe this was new to her as well. "Henry."

Cocking her head slightly, she appraised him carefully. "Well, now that we're acquainted, why don't you take me home?"

Henry was taken aback by Tabitha's boldness. This obviously wasn't her first rodeo, but there was something behind her piercing green eyes, something taunting him, daring him to play the part he'd signed up for, to be the person he thought he wanted to be.

He held her gaze for a moment, gathered his courage, and held the bottle to his lips. Relaxing his throat, he tipped the bottle back and let the contents slide down. Pushing himself up from the chair, he stood for a long moment and waited for everything to stop moving. Once he was sure he could navigate the room, he slipped his arm around Tabitha, his large hand splayed low on her hip.

That first night, Henry and Tabitha didn't get far, both passing out before they could do too much. But, within a few days, he was in her bed. While they didn't have much in common, they found that they were physically compatible. They managed to make it last a couple months before they tired of each other, both unwilling to admit they might want more than just sex. Parting amicably, Henry had a new girl in his bed before the week was out. A new Henry had emerged.

Henry had many "relationships" over the next 18 months, if that's what one chose to call them. The ROTC guys termed them "Henry's latest fuck," which he thought that was rather crass, but wasn't so attached to any of them that he bothered to defend their honor. His girls were just that, and he was the same to them.

Everyone said they were just looking for a few laughs and a good time. It was only a coincidence that after six weeks or so, the couple always found that being physical just wasn't quite enough. Henry decided he didn't want to meet anyone anyway. He was entering the Marines once he got his Master's. He didn't need a girl holding him back. Henry's plan was well laid out. He'd just make do these next couple of years, leave for the Marines, and find someone serious after.

It was a good plan and it stayed the plan until that mid-September day in 1986 when he sat with his latest fuck, Rochana. They shared a table by the door in a small sandwich shop at the edge of campus. They sat close, his hand high up on her thigh, her hands wrapped around his arm, holding him tight, letting her head rest against his shoulder. Rochana was prattling on about her Literature class and Henry looked out the window, watching the first leaves fall from the trees and blow about wildly in the air.

The door flung open and the leaves seemed to be sucked inside, fluttering around the brown leather penny loafers of a girl. Henry's eyes trailed up miles of denim to the slim hips and toned body of a blond. She quickly shook the leaves away and flipped her hair back, exposing her piercing blue eyes. "Elizabeth," he murmured.

The young woman turned and made eye contact with Henry, and instantaneously her eyes turned dark with recognition and a scowl covered her face. She turned on her heel and fled the shop.

Henry's body stiffened as he realized what was happening and Rochana pulled away from him alarmed. "What's wrong with you?" she asked, only a hint of concern conveyed in her otherwise annoyed tone.

"Get off me," he commanded, wrenching his arm away from her. He scrambled out the door to chase Elizabeth down the street.

"Elizabeth! Wait!" he called, running at full speed, closing the distance between them quickly. He caught her by the elbow and she spun around to face him..

"Why are you here? You were never supposed to still be here," she said, her voice full of fury.

"I-I'm in grad school," he said. "Why are you here?" he smiled widely trying to diffuse the situation, but it faded quickly when she didn't return it.

She narrowed her eyes and lowered her voice. "I want you to stay the hell away from me. I don't want to see you. I don't want to hear you and I sure as hell don't want to talk to you. Do you understand me?" Her gaze was unrelenting and he felt himself taking a step away to make more room between them..

She turned and walked away from him without turning back. Suddenly, all of the feelings he thought he'd dealt with, all of the feelings he had for her, hit him like a tidal wave. Henry took two stumbling steps backward, the air knocked from his lungs. He still loved her, and it was obvious, she hated him.