Of Happiness

by Olivia Luck

  “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 my lips in a possessive kiss. He slants his head to the side, running his tongue along the closed lips until they part for him. I put all my love into the kiss, release every smothered emotion into this second.

  At the end of the kiss, we keep our faces close, breathing in each other’s air.

  “Thank you for listening and not judging,” he says between heavy breaths.

  “Whenever you want to talk to me, I will listen without judging,” I vow.

  “We didn’t just come here to sit outside,” he says reluctantly, shifting me, so that I’m standing. He rises to his feet and shakes his head like he’s wiping away the memories. “I need to pick up some paperwork. It’s in the entryway.”

  “What kind of paperwork?” I ask him as we make our way back toward the front of the house.

  “I’m selling this place,” he says shortly, extracting the key from his pocket and shoving it into the lock. He doesn’t allow me to enter, darting in and returning with a legal-sized manila envelope.

  “After Cooper was gone, my parents wanted nothing to do with the property and deeded me the house. I’m sure you have more questions about why they left.”

  I nod my confirmation.

  “That has to do with my sister,” he says. We walk back to his car, he opens the passenger door for me, and I slide into the seat. “Since they gave it to me, I’ve had a caretaker maintaining the property and rented it to different people over the years.”

  After he shuts the door firmly, Harris moves stealthy to the driver’s side, climbs into the car, and presses the start button. “You gave me the courage to let go of this place. I’m selling it.”

  “Me?” I utter in alarm.

  “It happened as soon as I saw you that day in the kitchen; my view of life started shifting. You showed me a chance for something more than just loneliness. But the biggest impact you had was when you told me about your family. I thought how easy it could have been for you to be consumed by depression. But you let go of the things and people that hurt you to make the best of your life. You forgive… your dad, the shitty things that have happened to you. But more than that, you live every day to be a woman that your mother can be proud of. I don’t think Cooper would want me to carry this guilt every day. Like your mom, he’d want me to live.”

  He hasn’t pulled out of the drive yet, just left the car humming and my mouth gaping. Harris found a side of me no one else has ever uncovered or cared to discover. There’s no pretense, no need to put up a front. With Harris, he sees and accepts all that I am.

  “Harris,” I say when I get ahold of my wits. “For what it’s worth, I believe that Cooper wants you to live your life to its fullest potential, too. With relationships, work, family, he’d want you happy. I saw that picture of all three of you; it’s so obvious how much you loved each other.”

  His tense shoulders slacken as he steers away from the houses.

  “Are you still in therapy?” I ask gently.

  “After we met, I started going to sessions again,” he answers. “I don’t know how much longer I’ll be going. Whenever I need the good doctor, I make a habit of visiting him.”

  This time it’s me who stretches across the car to tangle our fingers.

  The rest of the ride happens in silence, but soon enough we pull up infront of a quaint country grocer and café. As usual, Harris dashes around the car to open my door and lends me his hand to help me out. We order sandwiches inside the restaurant and then take them to picnic tables shaded by giant umbrellas outside. Since it’s late lunch on a Wednesday afternoon, the place is mostly vacant.

  We situate ourselves on either side of the table. Before either of us says anything, a buzzing from my phone alerts me of a message.

  Dad: Back in DC. Will call this weekend… unless you need me now?

  At his gesture, I smile to myself.

  “Who is it?” Harris asks.

  “My dad.”

  “I like that seeing him makes you happy,” Harris observes.

  Eddie: I’m good right now. Actually with Harris. Looking forward to speaking to you this weekend.

  “Him being here was a wonderful surprise,” I acknowledge.

  It would be easy to talk about Dad, avoid addressing the remaining issue blocking the path toward our reconciliation, but I won’t be scared.

  “Saturday was pretty horrendous for me.”

  He ignores his own meal, capturing my gaze. “I wish you hadn’t run out.”

  I frown at his words. There was no other choice.

  “What did you expect me to do? It was at the very least two against one. But what really hurt was you knew the truth, and you kept your mouth shut. In my eyes, you were choosing your sister over me. In that moment, it felt like you gave up on us.”

  Harris instantly jumps in. “Oh, baby, how could I give up on someone I can’t go an hour without thinking about? How could I give up on the woman that brought me back to life?”

  “Why didn’t you stand up for me then?” I burst out, the question gnawing at me since Saturday.

  His eyes are still fixed on mine intently, the expression burning with urgency for me to understand. “I was thrown off my axis when you knew about Cooper. You’re incredibly intelligent; I don’t know why I thought I could hide it. Eit
her way, when we got into my apartment, I was about to apologize to you and explain that I wasn’t ready to talk about Cooper at that moment. Which, I know, was not the right course of action. Then all of a sudden Claire and Amanda are screeching. Instead of taking care of you, I froze. As soon as I snapped out of it, you were gone.”

  A slow breath escapes my lips and I shake my head. “More than anything, I wanted you to show me that we were on the same team, that you…”

  Harris abruptly stands up, and moves to my side of the bench, collecting me into his arms. My cheeks lands on his chest and he runs a hand through my hair, smoothing it to the nape of my neck.

  “With Claire screaming nonsense and Cooper, I wasn’t thinking clearly. I fucked up royally. Baby, I know you felt like I was picking Claire over you, but I wasn’t. Frankly, I was figuring out what the hell to do. And I decided.”

  “Decided what?” I ask against the soft cotton of his T-shirt.

  “This weekend Claire’s taking an extended leave of absence from work. She’s going back to an inpatient therapy program outside of the state.”

  At his words, I gently extract myself from his embrace. “And why would she agree to do that?” I’m reluctant to believe she’d relent to his wishes, but Harris appears confident that she’ll respect his orders.

  “Because my sister, for all her faults, realizes she needs me. She doesn’t contribute much at work, but stays there because I cover for her ass. Her finances would be a complete mess if it wasn’t for my help. Claire knows that I’m ultimately all she has left.”

  That reminds me of another topic I’m curious about. “Will you explain what happened with your parents? What happened after Cooper died?”

  “They blame Claire more for Cooper’s death than they ever did me.”

  “Why would they blame her?” I ask incredulously.

  “Claire and Cooper were incredibly close, two halves of one whole. After he died, she refused to tell us anything. We asked her so many damn questions and she shut us out. The night he died, Cooper told me about a journal he kept. I don’t know, I always thought it was his way of telling me he wanted me to read it. After his death, I tore the house apart trying to find it. My parents and I weren’t able to, so we asked Claire. Of course she hid it. Refused to share it with me or my parents. Needless to say, my mother couldn’t handle her grief, and my father would do anything to take care of her. They decided Australia was the best place for them because we have family there.”

  I nod, but I can’t comprehend it. “You needed them and they disappeared. It wasn’t just Cooper that left. You lost your parents too and took on the burden of caring for your sister.”

  “They haven’t disappeared completely from my life. Dad and I talk. We have a weekly conference call and every Sunday I talk to both of them. They tried with Claire, but she refused to have a relationship with them once they moved.”

  “And you became a parent.”

  He lets out a puff of air. “Like you said, Claire and I were close growing up. Once my parents were gone, she and I got along. I didn’t consider taking caring of her a burden; it was my way keeping things together after losing Cooper. Supporting her was part of my penance.” His eyes meet mine and he lifts his shoulders in an unapologetic shrug. “That’s what years of therapy taught me. I watch over Claire because I didn’t do it for Cooper.”

  “You’re honesty and bravery amazes me,” I tell him gently. For a moment, he almost looks like he’s blushing, but it passes. “I know it’s painful, but will you tell me more about why your parents left?”

  He takes another deep breath before continuing. “Cooper died in May; they didn’t leave until January when they realized there was no more trying to reach Claire. The more we begged her to see the journal, the more stories she concocted. First, she threw it away, then she buried it at camp. Nothing added up. It broke my mother’s heart even further, and she had to go. Believe me I was furious with them for a long time, but the truth is all of us made so many mistakes after Cooper died.”

  This time when I nod, it’s with more understanding. “What did you think he wrote in the journal?”

  Harris shakes his head glumly. “For so long I wanted to find out if there was something I could have done to prevent it. We thought there would be clues, a goodbye message, anything. Now I’ve accepted that I’ll never read it and that there’s nothing I could have done to stop him.”

  The topic seems to hurt him tremendously, so I shift it. “There’s something else I wanted to talk to you about.”

  He blinks away some unspoken memory, then responds. “Anything you want.”

  “You never drink, and I don’t want to assume the reason… but I am curious.”

  “After Cooper, I never wanted to let alcohol cloud my judgment. I never want to ask myself if things would have been different if I was sober.” He says it with a note of finality, and since it doesn’t bother me, I let the topic fall away.

  “What’s Claire getting treatment for?”

  “It’s behavioral therapy, but part of that is her drug abuse. She’s been diagnosed bipolar.” He says it matter-of-factly, a statement that’s clearly not new.

  “Do you think she’ll really go?” I wonder, still not convinced.

  “Yes, she will, after she tells Amanda that you weren’t having an affair with Peter. Otherwise she won’t be living in my apartment for much longer. Managing her finances, giving her a place to live, it all enables her bad habits, and I told her I can’t support her anymore.”

  “How did she respond?”

  “Kicking and screaming. But she fully understands that above all else comes my relationship with you.”

  Before I would have been afraid to be so honest with him, but there’s a burning question inside me. “Harris—don’t you, ah, think that’s a similar approach to your parents leaving her? That tactic wasn’t so successful.”

  He mulls over my words for a moment, lips pursed.

  “It’s time she grows up. If she wants to keep me around, she needs to work on herself. Of course I won’t get up and move across the country, but I can’t continue supplementing her entire lifestyle. I know my issues with her have held us back, but they’re not going to anymore, sweet Edith.”

  My heart beats wildly in my chest. I can’t believe he’s made this move for our relationship. If there was any doubt in my mind that he was committed to me, it dissipates with his words.

  Leaning closer, he brushes his lips softly against mine. “You have to believe me.”

  “I do,” I whisper against his lips. “I’m glad you brought me here.”

  Harris drops his face into the crook of my neck, nuzzling the column. “You gave me the courage to come back.”

  On the trip to Harris’ lake house, the mood was heavy with unspoken tension. After our talk, there’s no silent confessions hanging in the air. I’m confident our relationship can withstand whatever future threats (Claire or otherwise) crop up in our way.

  Without consulting me, Harris drives us back to Sean and Luke’s, stopping his car at the “No Parking” sign, naturally.

  “Your call, baby.” He cocks his head toward the brick building.

  The call comes easily.

  “I’d like to go home with you.”

  Now that we’ve had our heart to heart, he’s back to self-assured Harris, eyes flashing as he turns off the car and strolls around to open my door.

  “There’s somewhere I’d like to take you on Saturday, only overnight. You’ll need to pack for that, too. Oh”—the tips of his fingers find the small of my back while I wave the fob in front of the electronic keypad to unlock the building entrance—“when we get home tonight, we’ll figure out when the movers should come.”

  My feet stop moving in front of the elevator bank and Harris nearly bumps into me. “Wait. What’s that about movers?”

  Reaching around my body, he punches a finger into the call button. Then he levels me with a serious stare. “There’s no need
for us to pack up all your belongings and drag them to my place. We’ll hire packers and movers and it will be done in a few hours.”

  “Harris, what are you talking about? Where are we going? ” My eyes rove over his calm expression, trying to determine if he’s serious. It was only a few minutes ago that we got back together. It seems mighty fast to become roommates.

  “I’m taking you away for a night on Saturday, did I not mention that? And you just agreed to move in with me. What’s the confusion?” All the social cues suggest he’s serious: deadpan tone of voice, no hint of lip twitch. This man just invited me to move in with him like he would ask if I want to order in pizza for dinner. He can’t be serious.

  With his palm on my back, he gently pushes me into the elevator and waits for me to press the button. I numbly comply, pondering this turn of events.

  “So when you said ‘Your call, baby,’ you were prompting me to decide if I wanted to live with you? As in permanently?” I clarify incredulously when we exit the car.

  In a matter of moments, Harris has my back up against a wall in the hallway, arms bracketed above me. When his hot gaze meets mine, a slow heat starts to build between my legs. Sexual tension simmers between us.

  “You all are mine,” he all but growls, “and I’m yours. Is that right?”

  “Yes,” I answer in a breathy voice, completely forgetting the topic of conversation. All thoughts consumed by the promise of his body.

  “Then there’s no need for games. Let’s make it even easier: Luke will manage this project over the weekend. Packers will come while we’re out of town and they’ll deliver your things before we get back on Sunday.”

  “This relationship just moved onto the accelerated track,” I squeak.

  You’re in love with him, what are you waiting for? Great question.

  “Baby, when two people fit together as well as we do, time becomes irrelevant. There’s not one compelling reason to keep us apart. We’re meant to be side by side. Maybe to outsiders it’s fast, but fuck that. I want to be with you all the time, don’t you know that by now?”