I thought about the conversation Arthur and I had had, about what me being his proprius really entailed. I thought about the way I could understand him. It was useful for me, because it meant I could know Arthur really did hate leaving me when he had to go home or do something else. And I couldn't relax, otherwise.
I thought then to Henry. If he could see how Arthur and I were around each other, would he still be so judgemental? I guessed he would: I remembered how he had reacted on Sunday - when I'd calmly been writing in my diary, content at Arthur's feet. It didn't matter what he thought, in any case, because he was unimportant. I found myself wondering how I'd ever been friends with him.
My mobile buzzed on my bedside table. I picked it up and saw that I had a new text from Arthur.
‘Henry tried to use a poem to change my mind about you being my proprius,' it read.
‘:L,' I replied. ‘One day he might understand that our relationship is like poetry.'
‘Nah, I doubt it,' was Arthur's response. ‘How are you, princess?'
‘I'm okay,' I replied truthfully. ‘But I miss you. I love you.'
‘I love you too, princess. Promise me you won't be too sad, though. Only twenty one hours till you see me again.'
‘That's too long,' I complained. ‘I'm getting withdrawal symptoms.'
‘Doesn't that mean I'm dangerous? :L.'
‘No. You could never be dangerous.'
‘I'm glad, darling. I'd hate to think I was doing bad things to you.'
‘You could only do good.'
And we continued like that, texting into the night until it was time for me to turn my light off. The last text I sent Arthur that evening ended with so many kisses that I almost had to pay extra for such a long text.
Harriet's last text was like a bedtime kiss. Our relationship could easily serve as a bedtime story. But such heart-warming thoughts only caused me to miss her: the warmth and the solidness of her body in my arms, the feel of her hair against my cheek and the rise and fall of her chest which symbolised the rhythm of the music of our hearts. I rolled over in discontent, wishing that time would pass faster so I could see her again. Perhaps I was the one who needed hypnotising to ensure I didn't miss Harriet too much. I should've been doing work but I couldn't motivate myself to pick up a pen, let alone write out paragraphs on topics which meant nothing to me. I wearily took a shower before retiring for the night. At least I could visit Harriet in my dreams.
It's now the weekend after the one during which Arthur made Harriet his proprius. I can't bear to go upstairs - that's where they are now - even though anything that might distract or amuse me is in my room. Jack and Ryan are doing their homework so I've no one to hang out with/ talk to. All my homework is downstairs. I wonder if I could have remained in my room if I'd been there when Harriet had arrived. As it was, I'd been fetching myself a snack from the kitchen. Hearing her ascend the staircase with Arthur I hadn't been able to leave this floor for fear of what I would hear and see as I neared Arthur's room. But had I been upstairs it was quite possible that I would have fled down here for dislike of the proximity to the disgusting phenomenon of the non-hypnotised, enamoured slave. Poor, poor Harriet. How could she stand it?
The week has been a nightmare. I'm tempted to kidnap Harriet, I really am. While seeing her every night has been pleasure beyond measure, every time I leave her house my heart begins to ache and I long to see Harriet's face again. On Thursday she noticed my stress, it appearing even when I was with her, and she hugged me tightly, whispering "I can't be happy if you're not, Arthur." So I try extremely hard to not let my pain show.
It's an incredible relief to have a whole day with her. To know that she doesn't have to be home until six o'clock because Andrew can drive us in the dark. And she finished all of her homework, bless her soul. Unfortunately, I'm less organised and have to set some time aside tomorrow to get everything done but that hasn't stopped today from being possible. Darling Harriet. How did I ever live without her?
It quite concerns me. Arthur was in great distress on Thursday evening, eyes slightly wild, hair tousled, kisses desperate. And this was at the start of our time together. I hope he's okay...
The one good thing is that today he can spend as much time showing me how he feels about me as he likes. It's highly enjoyable for me, too.
I relaxed as she lay against me, luxuriating in the comfort that her presence brought me. Absently I thought I should ask Andrew to help me with my problem but the thought disappeared quickly as I focused on what was important. Harriet was with me, Harriet loved me, Harriet would never leave me and we'd be each other's forever... Yes. That was the right train of thought. I sighed contentedly, letting everything wash away except my awareness of my princess. Life. Perfect. Harriet.