Of Happiness

by Olivia Luck

  “They can be changed.”

  I hardly hear him speak; soon I’m fast asleep.

  The smell of sizzling bacon greets me when I wake. There’s also the clattering of plates and the murmur of voices. Shucking the blanket off, I stumble back into the bathroom, greeted by a tornado of messy hair and the indentation of a pillow on my cheek. I make quick work of drying my still-damp hair, pulling it into a messy bun on top of my head. I give my teeth a quick brush, then move gingerly into the closet, so I can dress in equally comfortable clothes as from the trip home from the hospital.

  I shove my feet into a pair of slippers, then make my way out to the dining room. When I enter the space, everyone immediately quiets. They’re seated around the table, eating. Eleanor made a spread, dressing the kitchen breakfast bar.

  “Hi.” I awkwardly wave. The gesture breaks the worried mood and elicits a chorus of smiles and even a chuckle from Sean.

  Harris rises at the same time as Sarah. She’s seated closer to me and beats him to my side, wrapping me in an embrace. Stars of pain ricochet down my side.

  “You’re all right,” she gasps from over my shoulder.

  “Too tight!” I squeak. Instantly her grip relaxes.

  “Sorry! I’m an idiot,” she mumbles.

  We walk over to the table where there’s a seat next to Harris left available for me. On the way to my spot, where Harris waits with his hand on the back of the chair, Dad moves to his feet. I halt next to him, eyes flooding with tears when I can instantly deduce his fear. With closed eyes, he sweeps a kiss across my forehead. The relief is palpable in his gesture, no need for words.

  Harris pushes in the back of my chair when I drop into it. “What can I get you to eat?”

  “Fruit and toast, please.”

  “Can you please eat more than that?” Sarah demands.

  Mirroring my family’s expressions, a grin stretches across my face. “You won’t let up, not even on the sickly?”

  “Get her bacon, and jam for that toast. She needs tea, too,” Sarah declares.

  A few moments later, Harris places a plate piled high with food in front of me. As he moves back to his seat, he bends down to touch his lips to my hair, murmuring in a voice that only I can hear, “I love you.”

  And just like that, we’re enjoying a breakfast with a little less tension than before. I sit between Harris and my dad, and I’ve never felt more protected, more loved by the people surrounding me. A cup of steaming tea appears in front of me, then there’s a hand on my shoulder, pulling me away from the conversation. Eleanor gives me a soft, genuine smile.

  “I’m glad you’re home, dear.”

  Reaching up, I cover her hand with mine, squeezing lightly. “Me too.”

  “Before you came in, we were talking about wedding venues and bridesmaid dress colors,” Sean tells me from the seat directly across from mine. “I told Sarah that mint isn’t your color, but you’d look great in red.”

  I shoot a look to Harris, who shrugs with a content expression, wedding talk not bothering him. He winks at me, lips twisting toward a crooked grin.

  “You know, for a replacement friend, Sean’s not so bad,” Sarah comments.

  “He’s not a replacement,” I say between popping berries into my mouth. “Sean and Luke are additions to this family.” I steal Harris words. Underneath the table, his hand covers my knee, applying a gentle pressure. I drop my non-utensil-wielding hand under the table to place it over Harris’.

  There’s a sniffle, Luke dabbing at his eyes with his napkin.

  “You broke him!” Sean crows.

  “What?” several of us ask.

  “This one never cries; you did it!” Sean casually drapes an arm around his boyfriend’s shoulders, and shakes him playfully.

  “It’s a beautiful sentiment,” Luke mutters.

  I settle into the chair back, watching the conversation continue without me. Sean and Luke tease each other. Greg watches Sarah with adoring eyes, not bothering to hide his devotion. Dad observes the scene with a bemused smile, but his posture remains relaxed. It thrills me that he’s fitting into my life this way.

  And Harris? My eyes find his, and we share a smile. He’s just right.

  Several hours later, it’s back to Harris and me. After Dad, Sarah, and Greg were confident that I would make a full recovery, they kissed me goodbye and took the plane back to D.C. Harris told Luke to take the rest of the week off; he wouldn’t go into work, either. Late in the afternoon, he organizes a conference call with several other partners at the firm to give them an edited update on yesterday’s happenings. It won’t be long before the story breaks—in fact, it already may have, I avoided media all day—and they need to know that his name would be in the news. The firm’s public relations director is notified, and she volunteers to field calls on Harris’ behalf. Strictly no comment. Harris spent time on the phone with the hospital, too. Claire’s still under sedation. Tomorrow he’ll visit her.

  Now we’re lying in bed, watching The Shawshank Redemption. It’s one of our favorite positions: Harris’ back is propped up against the headboard, and I’m between his legs with his arms resting comfortably around my chest, holding me in place, so it’s easier to see the television.

  Even though we’re physically relaxed, there’s a heavy cloud of tension surrounding us. I know there’s no remaining threat, but uneasiness remains. To distract myself, I try to engage him in conversation.

  “When will your parents get here?”

  “Friday,” he murmurs distractedly into my hair.

  “This is an odd way to be introduced to my boyfriend’s mom and dad.”

  His grip on me tightens, but in his tone I hear a grin. “We haven’t the most conventional courtship; it will be par for the course.”

  I shake my head as a chuckle escapes. “That’s true. But, uh, how do you think they’ll take to meeting me coupled with everything else?”

  “Before this emergency trip, they knew all about you. You know I talk to them. Apparently the last time I spoke with my mother, she could hear a change in me. I can’t hide it from anyone, baby. Even through all this shit, you make me deliriously happy.”

  I relax even further into his embrace, my eyes fluttering closed as his words sink in.

  He isn’t finished yet.

  “Before you came into my life, I drifted from day to day; the only things I allowed myself to focus on were work and taking care of my sister. There was no room for anything else in my life because I wouldn’t allow it. And then I met you and I found the woman who could make painful emotions disappear and make them bearable when I needed to face them. So, yes, I’d say that changes a man’s tone when he speaks to his mother.”

  I open my mouth to respond, but he continues before I have the chance to utter any words.

  “I’ve been through this insanity before, and I can tell you that days won’t be so easy for a while. Don’t take this the wrong way, but I’d like us to see my therapist because—”

  “Okay.”

  “That easy? I want to make an appointment for tomorrow.”

  “It’s over physically, but my emotions… They’re so scrambled. One second I’m at peace being with my family and you. The next second I’m battling anxiety, wondering where are they hiding? What’s around the corner?”

  Guilt laces his response. “It won’t go away easily. There will be days upon days that you have no worries. And then times when you’re constantly fearful. If it hadn’t been for me, you never would have suffered from this.”

  “It. Wasn’t. Your. Fault,” I say firmly. “You feel that way, I understand why you would, but Claire and Jared took it upon themselves to enact this plan. You have to believe me.”

  His body sags. “It’ll take time.”

  I reach up to place my hands over his, lacing our fingers together. “There’s more to address than just lingering fears. After we find Cooper’s journal…”

  I feel him nodding his head. “Will you come w
ith me tomorrow to look for it? I can’t read it without you.”

  Even though the concept of reading through Cooper’s journal is unsettling, upsetting, I can’t stop the rush of pleasure. That Harris would willingly share the ugliness with me, without reservation, signifies how far we’ve come in our relationship.

  “Of course.”

  “Thank you,” he says, sounding relieved.

  We’re quiet as we watch the remainder of the film.

  “I forgot to tell you something,” Harris says as the credits of the movie roll. Very carefully, he tilts me to the side, so we can make eye contact. Even though it stings a little, I wouldn’t dare tell him to readjust because I find his gray gaze a mixture of love and adoration.

  “What’s that?” I ask a little breathlessly.

  “I’m crazily in love with you, Edith Neff.”

  A flush sweeps across my cheeks, heating them with what I know is a rosy tinge. But unlike the first time we met, where the blush stemmed from shyness, this time it’s brought on by happiness. His words hold the bad memories at bay, smothering any remaining uncertainty.

  “I love you too,” I say huskily.

  When he bends down to kiss me, lowering me flat on my back for easier access, I sink into the moment, focusing on the future. Even though it won’t be easy, I can see the reward at the end, and it will be worth the struggles.

  One year later

  With an almighty yawn, I stretch my arms above my shoulders, rolling to my side in the reclined, oversized chair. When I drag my eyes open, I peer at Harris across the aisle of the airplane. He’s still asleep with a peaceful expression.

  I sigh in relief, then press a button on the armrest to return the chair to an upright position. I push off the blanket tangled around my feet, feeling thankful that Harris and I know sleep without nightmares. It’s been several months since either of us had a sleep-jarring, terrifying dream, but I’m still grateful for soothing rest that we earned after our dedicated efforts to healing.

  It would be wonderful to say that the past year has been a breeze, Harris and I quickly dominating what was left in the wake of Jared and Claire’s schemes. But that didn’t happen.

  Things took a dive as soon as we found Cooper’s journal in a trunk underneath Claire’s bed. The words scrawled in his young hand matched what Claire confessed. And to our dismay, we quickly found out another source of his unhappiness—Claire manipulated him, convincing Cooper that their parents and older brother would never forgive him for being gay and that she could “fix him.” It was heartbreaking for me to read, but Harris was devastated. He and his parents had deduced that Cooper was gay and were waiting for him to come out when he was ready. Reading Cooper’s private confessions combined with my attack sent Harris into a deep spiral of guilt. Harris became paranoid, demanding that Marcus be with me whenever he couldn’t.

  We fought. A lot.

  Thank goodness for our therapist.

  Our issues were numerous—we struggled our way through guilt, fear, and letting go of the dark past that loomed behind us at every turn. Sometimes we met with Dr. Brown together, other times separately.

  Harris and his parents were distraught when Claire had to make a permanent move into a psychiatric hospital in Michigan. She was perpetually stuck in her fifteen-year-old mind, unable to face that Cooper had died.

  There was one bright spot in those early, dreary days: the visit from Harris’ parents. Madeline and Bob were warm and welcoming, despite the dreadful way of meeting.

  Smiling at the thought of the Grants, who visited us two additional times over the past year, I climb out of the chair and make my way down the airplane’s cabin to the bathroom.

  The plane in question is somewhere over the sea making its way to Sydney, Australia. Once I’ve brushed my teeth and run a comb through my hair, I amble back toward my man who has woken up.

  “Hi there,” I say when I’m next to him. He stands up to stretch, arms raised above his head revealing a delicious patch of skin.

  With a playful growl, he tangles me in his arms, lifting me off the ground. “Good morning,” he grumbles into my ear.

  “Is it morning?”

  “Who the fuck knows?” I giggle as he drops me on my socked feet.

  As Harris glances down at his watch, I fold myself into the bench seat and curl my legs beneath me.

  “Five in the morning, Sydney time. We’ll be there in a couple of hours.”

  “And what will we do in the land down under?” I ask in an awful Australian accent.

  Laughing at my goofy accent attempt, he falls into the spot next to mine, laying out his long legs before us. “I’m going to take you to the zoo and some fantastic restaurants. Mom wants to take you to the opera. Anything else you want, your wish will be my command.”

  I beam at him, nearing jumping up and down in excitement. “Well, I did go through a bunch of websites and—”

  “There’s a few places you want to check out for the blog.” He finishes with me. Whatever you want, you get.”

  It’s my second trip out of the country. In the spring, he surprised me with a birthday vacation to Italy. When I halfheartedly protested that the gift was too extravagant, he told me he wanted to show me what Cooper found so funny at the Vatican. How could I argue with that?

  When we deplane, I gulp in the fresh air thankfully. Claustrophobia started to settle in after Harris and I woke up from our rest, but now I’m full of excited energy. About thirty yards from the plane waits a black Bentley convertible. Madeline and Bob wave from where they stand outside the vehicle.

  “Like father like son?” I tease Harris when we hit the bottom of the staircase.

  “She loves giving me shit,” he mutters good-naturedly.

  I ignore him, hurrying across the tarmac to an open-armed Madeline. My overnight bag bounces against my side as I practically run to her.

  We’ve gotten close. Each time they visited, Madeline and I spent time alone, getting to know each other. It was an unusual experience for me, because Madeline’s mothering tendencies came out quickly. On one visit over the winter, I caught a cold on the night they arrived. Madeline swept into mom mode, doting over me like I was her child. Though unusual, her tenderness was very welcome and slowly we found a way into each other’s hearts. Now when Harris talks to her on the phone, he shares some of the conversation with me, so that I can chat with Madeline.

  Bob, like his son, is more reserved. But he took interest in my business and applauded my entrepreneurship. His quiet, but friendly personality, made me feel at ease as soon as we met. We found common ground in football, and our little unit attended a game together when they visited.

  As they worked to come together as a family, I fit into the mix like I was always supposed to be in the recipe.

  Like their children, Madeline and Bob are both tall with fair coloring. When I get to her side, Madeline swallows me into a welcome embrace. “Hello, sweetheart.”

  In response, I squeeze her closer. Then she’s passing me to Bob who gives me an equally warm greeting. He pats me on the back in a very fatherly way.

  When I retreat and turn to glance over my shoulder, Harris is a few feet away with our array of luggage standing at attention around his feet. He’s got this look on his face, one that transcends every other expression. His gray eyes are soft, and his lips tilt toward a smile, a row of shiny white teeth peeking through. And the best part of that expression? As soon as he feels my gaze, he searches me out. That’s when the full-fledged beam makes an appearance. It’s contagious, my toothy smile matching his.

  Then he strides closer, hugging his father, kissing his mom on her cheek, and hugging her in return to her embrace.

  Madeline insists on sitting with me in the backseat of the car. In the front, Harris and his father talk about something business related while Madeline outlines our itinerary. We make the trek into the heart of Sydney, but I’m too caught up in my conversation to pay too much attention to the sites surroun
ding me.

  Bob deftly glides the car to stop in front of a gleaming skyscraper. A valet opens the passenger door, allowing Harris to gracefully climb out. He clasps my hand in his as he helps me exit the car. On the opposite side of the vehicle, his father does the same for his mother.

  “There are too many similarities here to not comment,” I tell him with a raised eyebrow.

  In an effort to keep me quiet, Harris tosses his arm around my shoulder, squishing my face into the rigid wall of muscles that make up his chest. “Mom, I promised Edith some time for just the two of us.”

  “She’ll want to spend time with me too,” she huffs.

  They squabble back and forth lovingly and we make the journey up into their, easy enough to guess, penthouse apartment. Inside their spacious condo, a brunch spread waits around an elegantly made table.

  Harris and I agree that we’d like to eat right away, instead of his parents showing me around their home. We settle around a glass-top kitchen table. It sits next to floor-to-ceiling windows (the Grants love their views) with a stunning backdrop of the Opera House.

  Once we’re eating, I notice that Madeline has hardly touched the plate of food before her. Her eyes glitter with excitement, her finger tips making a beat on the glass tabletop.

  “What’s going on?” Harris noticed her odd behavior, too.

  “We’ve made a decision,” she informs us.

  “Mad,” Bob groans, sitting back in his chair with a heavy sigh. “I thought we said we’d wait until they at least got over their jet lag before we dropped this on them.”

  “Dropped what?” I wonder.

  “Your father plans on retiring.”

  Bob grunts.

  “Not working full time,” Madeline amends. “And, that didn’t drive this decision, but actually it was a decision we made because it’s time to go back home.” She gives a self-depreciating smile. “I don’t think I can go another day living far from you both and Claire.”