by Skyla Madi
Sincerely,
Worried About a Brother
“He’s lucky to have you.” Harlow wiped a stray tear and looked away. She normally didn’t get emotional over her work. She’d learned the hard way to detach herself from it, but there was something in this message that hit close to home. “But why use idiosyncratic?”
“Because he’s a one of a kind, and I didn’t want to use his real name, for obvious reasons.” She gestured to her letter and back again. “I’ve never talked to a shrink before. I highly doubt he has, either. Let’s face it. He’s a guy.” Melody smirked. “But I’m taking a leap with you because I know you’ve experienced a big heap of grief yourself. It’s not the same thing, but I read what happened to you in the paper, and after…”
“Please, say no more.” She held up a hand to halt Melody from rehashing her own demons. It was not the time nor the place to go there, and instead, she managed to muster up a smile to pretend the subject didn’t bother her as much as it did. Not that she was fooling anybody. Everyone was a work in progress, right? “Did you want me to add this to the column, or would you prefer to keep this between the two of us? It’s a little heavier than the letters I usually get.”
“You’d do that?”
Harlow shrugged. “Not normally, since I started at Twin City, but I can make an exception this time, if you’d like me to. I feel like you’ve gone out of your way for me with the whole tattoo business, and we hardly know each other yet. The offer is the least I can do.”
“I wrote that fully thinking you’d add it, but if you could, I’d really appreciate the discretion. He’d be pissed if he knew I wrote that.”
“He must be pretty special for you to care so much.”
“He’s my brother from another mother.” Mel sighed. “He’s pushed a lot of people away, and there are only a few of us he lets get close. He’d do the same for me, if the roles were reversed. He’s special, but he’s also ridiculously talented, hard-working, and caring, and I know he loves fiercely when he opens himself up. When the right kind of girl comes along once more, she’ll be one lucky chick. I just want to see him happy again. Nothing wrong with that, right?”
“Absolutely. Nothing at all wrong with that.” Harlow tucked the letter inside her purse. “Let me sleep on it, go over your letter again, and I’ll give you a reply the next time we meet up. By the way, I really liked your tour today, and I’ve decided to brave the temptation. Think you can give me a call sometime tomorrow so we can set up an appointment for that tattoo?”
“Seriously? Hell, yeah. I’ll check. Toby and Carson are both ridiculously talented. Do you have a preference between the two of ‘em?”
“I’ll take your word for it and go with whichever one you decide to book. Beggars can’t be choosers, as the saying goes, and both men seemed completely competent in their abilities.”
Melody’s drink flew out of her mouth and nose, and her laugh turned into a bout of coughing while she tried to compose herself. “Competent, huh? I’ll be sure to let them know you thought so.”
“Hey, what’d I miss?” Calista shimmied in her seat and looked between the two of them. “Ooh, that looks good.” She pointed to their drinks. “I want one, too.”
“Ms. Helps here has decided to get that tattoo after tonight,” Mel exclaimed while pointing toward Harlow, then she stood. “As for my drink, I’ll get you one, too. The next round’s on me. Then we’ll order some food.”
Callie squealed and squished her with a bear hug. “You’re doing it. Finally! Way to go, Har. You’ll see once you get one. You’ll want another in no time.”
“Uh, huh, we’ll see.” She smiled and felt elated. Harlow Ross was completing a long-awaited goal in memory of her daughter. It was as if she was opening a new chapter in her life, and it was going to be a good one.
Chapter Six
Harlow
Dear Mel:
Mr. Idiosyncratic has clearly been through a traumatic ordeal. And although I’m glad he survived, I am also truly sorry for the loss you all have suffered, from his injuries to the death of his loving fiancé. I hope you don’t mind, but since this is between the two of us, I’ve decided to be a little more in-depth with my letter to you instead of the shorter responses I usually give in my column.
Grief varies from one person to another. Sometimes it takes one person longer to go through the grieving process, as we all deal with things differently. It’s a part of what makes us unique as individuals, and it has varying factors, like how close we were to the person we’re mourning…that kind of thing.
In our bereavement, we often move between stages before achieving a more peaceful acceptance of death, and many of us aren’t afforded the luxury of doing so in a timely manner.
But remember, this is a very personal process and only a quick glimpse to help you understand and put into context what Mr. Idiosyncratic is probably facing.
Here are those steps:
Denial and Isolation: In my case, I used to pretend my daughter was on vacation with her grandparents and would walk through my door with them any minute because it was easier than the harsh reality that my baby was gone and would never be returning. You mentioned hearing about my situation, and this step is a natural reaction to rationalize overwhelming emotions.
Anger: Once the denial begins to fade, reality sets in, and its pain re-emerges fiercely. It’s blindsiding, and we’re vulnerable, so that hurt turns into anger. It may be aimed at ourselves, an inanimate object, strangers, our families, or even the one we lost for leaving us. Rationally speaking, we know it’s not their fault. Emotionally, however, there can be resentment. It’s then followed by guilt for feeling that way, and that makes us angry yet again with ourselves or with the situation itself.
Bargaining: When we feel helpless, there’s often a need to feel in control. That’s when the should’ve, would’ve, could’ve, what-if’s, or if-only’s come in.
Depression: Losing someone you love is a very stressful experience, from how the death occurred, to the cost of the funeral, and how we’re going to survive afterwards. It’s our preparation for the final goodbye. It can be hard to get past, and sometimes all we need is a good hug and someone to be there for us, even when we try our hardest to push them away. So it’s good that he has you to stand by him.
Acceptance: Unfortunately, not all of us get here. When a death is sudden or unexpected, some may never get through the anger or denial. Coping with loss is a very personal experience. The best thing is to be a comfort for your friend and to just be there when he needs you most.
Another thing to think about is the possibility of Posttraumatic Stress Disorder. PTSD is a mental illness that involves exposure to trauma involving death, the threat of it, or serious injury. Trauma, like the fire Mr. Idiosyncratic experienced, can cause the recovery period to last much longer. He may re-experience it through vivid nightmares, flashbacks, or with thoughts of the fire that come from out of nowhere. He may have trouble sleeping. He can experience anxiety, have a hard time concentrating, or feel irritable. Some people even manage to feel numb or detached, which might explain all the “bimbo’s” and crazy work habits, as you put it. But please note: not all traumatic experiences lead to PTSD, and I am in no way diagnosing anything by mentioning it. It could very well be a possibility, though, so keep it in mind.
I know you said your friend might not be interested in therapy, but maybe one day he’ll change his mind. There are several counselling services he may be interested in for the future, and there are also support groups, if that’s a more comfortable route. If you’d like more information on that, I’d be happy to provide a list of resources for you.
What do I suggest, you ask? I suggest you continue to be supportive. Give him the options I’ve listed about the resources out there to help him cope and talk it out. Express your concerns and your worries and continually remind him that there are people who care about him, no matter what.
Life goes on, one way or another.
>
I wish I could be of more help to you, but there’s no easy answer here. The only one who can truly make a serious mark on Mr. Idiosyncratic and his life is Mr. I, himself, and the people who love and support him.
Life is what you make of it, after all, and I say he’s very lucky to have you in it.
Sincerely,
Harlow
“Baby, Lucky Charms must be your favorite kind of cereal, cause you look magically delicious over here.”
“Carson.” Harlow smirked and quickly closed her laptop. “How are you today?”
“Now, that’s a loaded question,” he said, wiggling his eyebrows.
Harlow laughed.
“Hey, what’s so funny?” He slid the chair across from her out, turned it around, and sat down so they were now at eye level.
“You have a way with words that always manages to make me smile or laugh. Tell me—do those lines actually ever work?”
“Sometimes.” He winked. “And, if all else fails, it’s always good to leave a woman smiling.”
“Touché.”
“Do you come here often?” He gestured around the small coffee shop and back again.
“I do, since it’s in the general neighborhood from my apartment, but I normally don’t tend to bring work with me.” Her fingers tapped on the closed computer. “I haven’t seen you around before. Is this your first time here?”
She loved Dark Java’s homey atmosphere, from their comfortable cushioned chairs, to the free Wi-Fi, to their friendly service, to the vibrant colors on the walls. But what made it better was the fact that it was a diamond in the ruff. A place not everyone seemed to know about, but once they did, they were hooked. Not only was the coffee great but so was the food they served. Sometimes it was just nice to escape from the walls closing in on her at home. Working from there had its perks, but there were times when Harlow felt like she needed a fresh space, somewhere with more windows and sunlight and, well, people.
“I, uh, stayed with a friend last night, and I needed a little caffeine pick me up before heading to work.” He shrugged, but she also noted the slight tint of red in his cheeks. She bit her lip to keep from laughing at him again, but he changed the subject anyway. “What exactly is it that you do?”
“I’m surprised your sister hasn’t mentioned it already. I’m thinking she might be one of my biggest fans.” That seemed to pique his curiosity. “I currently write for Twin City Women’s Magazine as an advice columnist. It’s quite rewarding, it pays the bills, and I like that I’m able to work from home.”
“Oh, fuck. You’re not the Harlow Helps chick, are you? Melody reads that stuff every day. She’s hooked and makes sure there’s a current issue at the shop to read between clients. She and Dee eat that shit up.”
He looked a little guilty for his choice of words, and she decided to take pity on him. “I take it you’re not a fan, then?” She chuckled and continued talking before he could answer. “No worries, Carson. I’m not offended. I’m glad the girls ‘eat that shit up,’ as you say. Women love the column, and men…well…” She shrugged, not exactly sure on how to finish that thought. “Let’s just say, I’m happy my target audience enjoys it enough to keep me comfortably employed. It’s flattering. I think the key is to be relatable. I try to personalize each of my replies to the specific reader who writes in, and sometimes, if I see fit, I’ll even put in some of my own experiences.”
He grunted. “Speaking of, you talk to Mel lately?”
“Not since yesterday. Why?” A couple weeks had gone by since their last outing, and she’d been able to squeeze Harlow into the schedule to get her long-awaited tattoo.
“Did she give you the appointment? Toby’s scheduled you in on his time off as a special favor.”
“He did what? You’re not serious?” Her eyes widened, and truth be told, now she felt a little guilty.
“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” he said, as if that would appease the uneasiness she suddenly felt. “He likes you.”
“I-uh, um…”
Carson got his mischievous gaze back while she stumbled for a reply. “Did you know I once heard kissing burns about three calories a minute? Feel like a workout before I leave here?” He puckered for her, and the effect worked, because she broke out into a fit of giggles.
“Where do you come up with this stuff?” she asked, but instead of answering, he just lifted her hand and gave her a quick peck.
“If it’s any consolation, I like you too, sweetheart.” He winked, rose from the chair, and parted with a quick, “But I seriously gotta go or I’ll be late.”
Rendered speechless by his quick parting from the table, Harlow watched him buy a cup of coffee and wave at her before he left.
With a shake of her head, she dug out her phone to dial Mel, who answered after the first ring.
“Hey, Chica. What’s up?”
“Why didn’t you tell me Toby would have to squeeze me in on his days off?”
Mel sighed. “He probably sees it as you doing him a favor. He works like a dog, and he’d be here anyway. So why not?”
“Are you sure? Because I’d hate to put him out.” She gripped her phone tighter. “I feel sort of guilty.”
“As if,” Mel replied. “Girl, I don’t know what was said between the two of you the other night, but he seems intrigued, happy even, and he wants to do it. Not sure if it’s the design or you. Whatever the motivation, this is good for him, and he’s already started on some ideas to show you. You wouldn’t want to waste all that hard work, would you? Toby’s a genius. I can’t wait for your reaction when you see what he’s come up with.”
“Well, when you put it that way.” Harlow smiled. “Just one more thing before I let you go. Are you free for lunch? I finished writing you a response regarding your letter, and I’d love to give it to you. My treat!”
“Damn right, I am. What time are you thinking?”
“One o’clock? I’ll meet you at the shop.”
“Sounds good to me. By the by, how did you know Toby’s schedule anyway?”
“I ran into Carson this morning, and he let it slip.”
“Figures,” Mel mumbled. “My brother has a big mouth. Don’t mind him.”
“He certainly is a one of a kind, but I think that’s a good thing.” Harlow smirked.
“Meh, he’s all right,” Melody teased. “I’ve got to go for now. I’ll see you soon, okay?”
Chapter Seven
Harlow
Her experience this time was much different from the last. The moment she walked into the shop, it was packed. The phone was ringing. There was a line at reception and no available seating in the waiting area, where a small group of people looked through the stacks of portfolios available to them.
“Harlow!” Dee waved her over after putting someone on hold. “Come on back here.”
Wow!
She made her way behind the counter. “Thanks.”
“Mel’s expecting you. Why don’t you grab a coffee or something in the break room while you wait? It shouldn’t be too long.”
“Uh, where?”
“Down that hall. Second door to the right.”
The moderate-sized room consisted of two plush reclining chairs facing a small flat screen mounted to the wall fully equipped with an Xbox, games, and controllers. A small kitchenette to the left contained a large fridge. Her eyes landed on the coffee machine, and she sighed, contented.
Mm, coffee.
She moved toward it, with the intention of making a cup, when she noticed the table on the opposite end of the room and the unknown man sitting there from the corner of her eye. “Oh?” She jumped and placed a hand to her chest. “I’m sorry. I didn’t see you there.”
Damn, Harlow. You should really start taking in your surroundings.
“I noticed.” He smirked playfully. “By all means, carry on. Don’t mind me.”
She nodded and began to rummage through the cupboards to grab a mug. “Would you like a cup?” When sh
e looked over again, he was immersed in the book in front of him.
“Nah, I’m good.” He gestured toward the glass of water beside him and watched her approach with interest.
“I’m Harlow. It’s nice to meet you, Mr.—?
“Parker. Rebel Parker.”
She stretched out her hand to greet him, and they shook.
“What are you working on there?” She pointed to the paper he was writing on, coffee forgotten.
“This,” he replied, “is just a doodle to kill time while I wait for Toby to come around, and this is my portfolio.” His head tilted towards a large book beside him, and he shrugged.
“That’s amazing,” she said while staring in awe at the gothic-looking fairy drawing he was in the midst of sketching, blown away by its detail.
“Let’s hope the boss feels the same way.” Rebel chuckled. “Because I’m hoping to be the next artist hired here. Toby and I go way back, but you never know.”
“Well, with that kind of talent, I don’t see why you wouldn’t be.” She shook her head. “I’m getting my first tattoo soon, and I hope it’ll look just as good as that does.”
“I was beginning to wonder.” His mouth tilted up as he studied her. “Are you a new hire too, by chance?”
“No.” Her mouth twitched.
Now that’s a laughable thought.
She didn’t have an artistic bone in her body. Hell, the best she could draw was probably stick figures. “I’m here waiting for Melody, actually.”
“Lucky Mel.” He winked.
“Hey, Reb. I finally have a few minutes free if…” Toby stopped dead in the doorway and looked between the two at his table with a raised brow. “Harlow?”
“Toby.” She stood. “If I’m in the way, I could just—”
“Absolutely not,” the boss man said. “I’m glad to see you.”
“You are?”
“Yeah.” He strode toward her and gently grabbed her hand to hold it. “I have a sketch for you to look at.”
