chirping and nature settling around us.
As much as I want to hear directly from Harris why he’s so thrown by being here in Michigan, I wait patiently for him to speak.
“This is the first time in twelve years I’ve come here… since Cooper passed away,” he tells me tensely.
“Must be immensely difficult.” To say the least.
“More than I can express, ethereal Edith.”
It’s the first time in half a week that he’s used our nickname game. Despite our topic of conversation, I’m reassured by the familiarity.
“I’m no angel,” I reply.
“I disagree,” he insists. “After Cooper died I was stuck in a perpetual state of purgatory. Very little made me truly happy, least of all the bullshit relationships I’ve had with nameless women. I didn’t think I had any right to be happy, not after I lost him. And then I met you.” Harris stops speaking, his voice catching. Swiveling my body, I turn into him, wrapping my arms around his middle and hugging him tightly.
“It wasn’t your choice, Harris; you didn’t want it to happen.”
“No, but it was his,” he responds morosely.
I angle my body so that we are making eye contact. “What does that mean?” I ask with a voice full of dread.
“The story you heard probably went something like this—I took my young, impressionable brother up to the lake house for a college graduation party. It was a raucous affair, wild enough that I got so drunk I thought it a good idea to let my brother play beer pong.”
He lifts a hand to scrub at his short hair. “Well, the party was no more than twenty people. Close friends, not any person in the vicinity who wanted to pop in. Yes, I was drunk, but I’d never let Cooper touch the stuff. He was on medication that didn’t mix well with alcohol.”
My mouth suddenly feels dry. A gnawing anxiety in my stomach tells me that the awful story is about to get much worse.
“He played the game with me, but I drank all the beer. We kept winning, and I kept drinking and drinking. When my girlfriend dragged me to the bedroom, I was too drunk to consider leaving Cooper a bad idea.”
My arms involuntarily twitch, trying to impress comfort and get our bodies closer still.
“He didn’t fall.”
After he says the words, I inhale sharply.
“No,” I whisper.
“There was a note. I’m sorry, it said,” Harris whispers as his arms fall around me. “And I was fucking some girl when I should have made sure my depressed brother didn’t jump off the roof.”
His words slice through me. I shut my eyes briefly, my heart beat echoing in my ears. It’s worse than I had ever imagined.
“Harris, baby, I’m so sorry,” I say softly, the words sounding completely inadequate.
“When I called my parents, God, I’ll never forget the sound my mom made. It was like her heart was ripped right from her chest. They trusted me with him. They trusted me to keep him safe, and I let him die.”
At his words, I pop up, placing my hands firmly on his shoulders and staring deep into dark gray eyes. I desperately want to lessen his grief. “Stop. Stop, Harris. You can’t think like that. We cannot control the actions of others. As much as we wish to correct the decisions of our loved ones, force them to make the right choices, we can’t. ”
He blinks roughly at the liquid that’s formed in his eyes. “That’s what my therapist told me,” he admits. Using the pad of my thumb, I brush at the corner of his eye and wait for him to continue.
“Claire and Cooper were the best of friends since he was born. They’re what’s called Irish twins, born less than a year apart. I wish I could say after he died she changed, but she’s always had trouble telling the truth, among other issues. Clearly.”
“Harris”—my voice is unnaturally quiet—“There’s no way we can move forward without discussing Claire. But here? This place is too sacred.”
The words are just barely out of my mouth when he hauls me closer and captures
As much as I want to hear directly from Harris why he’s so thrown by being here in Michigan, I wait patiently for him to speak.
“This is the first time in twelve years I’ve come here… since Cooper passed away,” he tells me tensely.
“Must be immensely difficult.” To say the least.
“More than I can express, ethereal Edith.”
It’s the first time in half a week that he’s used our nickname game. Despite our topic of conversation, I’m reassured by the familiarity.
“I’m no angel,” I reply.
“I disagree,” he insists. “After Cooper died I was stuck in a perpetual state of purgatory. Very little made me truly happy, least of all the bullshit relationships I’ve had with nameless women. I didn’t think I had any right to be happy, not after I lost him. And then I met you.” Harris stops speaking, his voice catching. Swiveling my body, I turn into him, wrapping my arms around his middle and hugging him tightly.
“It wasn’t your choice, Harris; you didn’t want it to happen.”
“No, but it was his,” he responds morosely.
I angle my body so that we are making eye contact. “What does that mean?” I ask with a voice full of dread.
“The story you heard probably went something like this—I took my young, impressionable brother up to the lake house for a college graduation party. It was a raucous affair, wild enough that I got so drunk I thought it a good idea to let my brother play beer pong.”
He lifts a hand to scrub at his short hair. “Well, the party was no more than twenty people. Close friends, not any person in the vicinity who wanted to pop in. Yes, I was drunk, but I’d never let Cooper touch the stuff. He was on medication that didn’t mix well with alcohol.”
My mouth suddenly feels dry. A gnawing anxiety in my stomach tells me that the awful story is about to get much worse.
“He played the game with me, but I drank all the beer. We kept winning, and I kept drinking and drinking. When my girlfriend dragged me to the bedroom, I was too drunk to consider leaving Cooper a bad idea.”
My arms involuntarily twitch, trying to impress comfort and get our bodies closer still.
“He didn’t fall.”
After he says the words, I inhale sharply.
“No,” I whisper.
“There was a note. I’m sorry, it said,” Harris whispers as his arms fall around me. “And I was fucking some girl when I should have made sure my depressed brother didn’t jump off the roof.”
His words slice through me. I shut my eyes briefly, my heart beat echoing in my ears. It’s worse than I had ever imagined.
“Harris, baby, I’m so sorry,” I say softly, the words sounding completely inadequate.
“When I called my parents, God, I’ll never forget the sound my mom made. It was like her heart was ripped right from her chest. They trusted me with him. They trusted me to keep him safe, and I let him die.”
At his words, I pop up, placing my hands firmly on his shoulders and staring deep into dark gray eyes. I desperately want to lessen his grief. “Stop. Stop, Harris. You can’t think like that. We cannot control the actions of others. As much as we wish to correct the decisions of our loved ones, force them to make the right choices, we can’t. ”
He blinks roughly at the liquid that’s formed in his eyes. “That’s what my therapist told me,” he admits. Using the pad of my thumb, I brush at the corner of his eye and wait for him to continue.
“Claire and Cooper were the best of friends since he was born. They’re what’s called Irish twins, born less than a year apart. I wish I could say after he died she changed, but she’s always had trouble telling the truth, among other issues. Clearly.”
“Harris”—my voice is unnaturally quiet—“There’s no way we can move forward without discussing Claire. But here? This place is too sacred.”
The words are just barely out of my mouth when he hauls me closer and captures
Similar Books
