by B Anders
"What?" Harper turned toward Courtney.
Courtney was frowning. "You were saying something under your breath. I couldn't hear you, what did you say?"
Harper shrugged, "Damned if I know. The words just pour out sometimes. I can't tell if I said them out loud or if it's all in my head."
"Are you seeing a therapist about that?" Courtney asked.
"No," Harper answered.
Courtney's frown deepened. "Well, you should because it's pretty fuckin’ irritating, and it turns people off."
"Sorry." Harper had no other comment to offer.
Harper watched as Courtney began to unpack the items she would need overnight. Harper knew Courtney was upset in part because of the remark Courtney made and the way she was banging down her toiletries on the bathroom counter next to the sink. Harper needed to do or say something to make things right between them again, or as right as their situation would allow. It was hard to figure out what to do when she wasn't clear on what she did wrong.
"Courtney, are you angry with me? Is it because I wouldn't tell you about my nightmares?"
Courtney spun round to face Harper, her eyes blazing. “I never said I was angry, and you were right. It was none of my business.”
“Why do you need to be perfect all the time?”
"What? Are you talking to me now or are you just shouting random things out into space again? Is this a conversation or are you babbling to yourself?"
"A conversation?" Harper asked surprised at how fast Courtney had turned the tables and was now on the attack.
"God, you are frustrating." Courtney frowned. "Look, if you don't want to talk then give me the room service menu and let’s call it a night. If you want to talk then let's sit down and talk."
"I'm not trying to be a jerk here. It's just that," Harper wrung her hands as she spoke. "I am a jerk. I'm so screwed up inside my own head, I can't figure out what I'm doing never mind how I should react to what you're doing. Why not just tell me what I did to piss you off and let's see if I can do anything differently." Harper added quietly, "That's not a promise. Well, it is a promise to try."
Courtney sighed in defeat. "Harper I didn’t mean to upset you. It's just been a long day. How 'bout stopping with the muttering under your breath? Do you think if you're going to say something can you at least make it loud enough for me to hear?"
"I can try."
"And, how 'bout if you aren't going to answer something you just say, ‘I’m sorry. I can't talk about this, right now.’ Is that too much to ask for, Harper?"
Harper tried to defend herself, "I thought that's what I said."
Courtney shook her head, "No, you shouted at me. Why do you need to shout, Harper?"
"I didn't mean to. Sometimes it just happens."
"Yes, your office manager told me all about how things 'just happen' with you. Hanging up on people, walking out of the office while people are still talking to you, yelling, swearing. Any of that sound familiar?"
"Yes," Harper was ashamed. "I never planned on behaving like that. It wasn't deliberate."
Courtney plopped down on the bed, "I know, but you never tried to stop it either."
Harper knew Courtney was right. Her grief over Tommy's death had only served to exacerbate an existing behavior problem. She would wallow for days in her own anguish and then snap out of it by blowing off steam at the first hapless soul to cross her path. It did little to alleviate her lifelong grief. The need to vent her building emotions grew exponentially after the only person who could make her smile died and left her completely alone.
But, something had changed in a day and over several hundred miles. Yesterday, a directed conversation like this would have easily triggered shouting, swearing, storming out, or all three. Harper knew that deep down inside a part of her wanted to do just that. Yet another part of her wanted something more, and the wanting more somehow cancelled out the rage.
"I'm trying to stop, right now," Harper said slowly in a low modulated tone. "I'm trying really hard, Courtney, and I’m sorry about that dig about you hiding in the bathroom."
"Yeah," Courtney's voice was soft. "I noticed. You haven’t told me to fuck myself in the last twenty-four hours. I was kinda missing it. And Harper, you weren’t wrong about the not sleeping thing.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
“No. Yes, maybe. I don’t know. Can we drop the subject?”
"Sure," Harper readily agreed. "Look, I don't know how long my newly formed restraint can last. Could we call a truce for fifteen minutes? I need a shower. I stink. Could we have coffee or something later and I can try to be more civil in answering or not answering your questions."
Courtney gave a slight smile, "I'll call room service. I’m dying for a Red Bull and a steak."
***
Harper emerged from the shower feeling refreshed. The hot water had soothed away her frazzled nerves as the pulsating shower head worked on loosening the knotted muscles in her neck. Her house had shitty water pressure. She could never get a showerhead like that to work at home.
“Maybe I could join a gym. They would have a pulsating shower head.”
The suddenness of the statement caught her off guard. Harper paused to consider the option. For the first time in months, maybe years, she was planning for herself. Something normal like joining a gym was impossible when Tommy was alive and after his death, her grief had kept her from considering even the most mundane of things.
“I actually could join a gym and go every day," She said to the steam fogged mirror. "Well, maybe every other day. Or three times a week or something like that.”
Harper smiled as she let the words trip off the end of her tongue. Her hands working to dry her legs with the fluffy, white cotton towel.
"This is a really nice towel," she hummed. "But, the bath towel is way too big for the suitcase. The hand towel, however, should fold up small enough. Or two facecloths."
Harper hung the damp towel on the rack before grabbing her tee shirt and boxers. She tugged them on without a second thought even though she knew that walking back out into the suite would mean having to face Courtney. Harper had always been skilled at keeping her personal life from being exposed at work. She had pride herself in being able to complete each task in her schedule with the necessary sense of detachment to get through each day and get back home to Tommy. That is until everything collapsed like a house of cards. The first day she did not need to hurry home again her life became meaningless.
"I was just about to call housekeeping. I thought you got washed down the drain," Courtney said as Harper walked out of the bathroom. "What took so long?" Courtney was sitting back on the bed in a tight tank top and sweatpants. Her jeans neatly folded on an adjacent chair.
"They have a shower head that pulsates. I spent longer with it than I should have, I guess."
Courtney raised her hands as if to wipe away the question. "Oh God, I’m sorry. I didn't mean to pry. What you do in the bathroom is your own business."
"What? Wait! No, that's not what I meant." Harper blushed, "I meant I used it to relax. Oh God, no, not relax-relax, but relax, you know what I mean, right?"
"Hey, we're both adults. What you do with a consenting shower head is your own affair. I don’t judge."
"No, no, that's not what I mean." Harper wanted to explain, but she was saying all the wrong things. "Really, my neck was stiff. I wanted to let the water work on my neck."
Courtney began to giggle.
"What's so funny?"
"This is kind of like a junior high school sleep over conversation, isn't it? That's what's so funny."
Harper sat on her bed and said. "I wouldn't know. I never went to a sleep over."
"Never?"
Harper shook her head. "There was too much to do. I needed to get home from school to take care of my brother so Mom could go to the nursing home for her shift. I'd get dinner and feed him. Dad would come home, and I'd feed him too. They'd watch TV, and I'd do homework
. Then it would be bedtime. Next day would be the same shit all over again. Later when I got older, my parents started pushing me to drop out of school and get a job to help pay for Tommy’s expenses."
"That wasn't very fair on you," Courtney said.
"Fair or not," Harper shrugged. "It's what happened." She was silent for a moment, and Courtney started to speak.
“I’m glad you didn’t drop out of school. If it makes you feel better, I never went to a sleep over in junior high either.”
“Why?”
“Like you said, it’s what happened.”
Harper took a deep breath and plunged ahead. "Look Courtney, I said I was trying earlier, and I still am, but, you need to know this is really hard for me. I've never talked to anybody about this stuff."
"I kind of figured that," Courtney said. "There's no pressure here. We don't have to rush this. Let’s just forget about today and eat. I got us a couple of steaks. The one with the onions is mine. I can’t have carbs. Yours is the plate with the fries, I had the meat done medium rare.”
“You’re diabetic?”
“What? Oh no.”
“Then what’s with the carbs?”
“Nothing.”
“Quid pro quo, Courtney.”
“Well, okay. I was fat as a kid. Patty was always the slim, pretty one, and we were twins. Not identical, but it was bad enough.”
“So people were always comparing the both of you. That must have sucked.”
“That’s about right. Patty loved the attention. She was the apple of my father’s eye. She used to call me ‘chunky monkey’ just to make me cry until one day I decided I wasn’t going to cry anymore. Things got better as I got older. I did well in school, and my grandfather started taking a large interest in me. He was my mother’s dad. But I didn’t lose the puppy fat till I turned eighteen and went away to college. That answer your question?”
“Pretty much. No, I still have one.”
“What?”
“Is Courtney your real name?”
“Oh, please, not this. The corporate rumor mill runs overtime, I swear." Courtney said. "Let's turn the tables. Is Harper for real?”
“I had it legally changed when I turned eighteen with money from my first paycheck. I named myself after the woman who wrote ‘To Kill a Mocking Bird’, Harper Lee. What about you?”
“Courtney is what my grandfather calls me, so the name kind of stuck. My father hated it. He said it was too white and pretentious. But, he wasn’t paying the tuition for my lily-white prep school or college or grad school.”
“So what’s your real name?”
“Carmen. Carmen Miguel Hernandez. My father named me after himself. I don’t know what he must have been thinking.”
“You’re Hispanic? I would never have guessed. You’re so blond. Your dad must have hated ‘Courtney Denis’ with a vengeance.”
“He did, but my father hates everything about me, so it wasn’t anything new." Courtney gave a shrug as if she didn't care, “My Grandfather convinced me to change my name when he took over custody of me from my parents when I was twelve. His big named lawyers convinced the judge it would be in my best interest that he become my guardian. My parents didn’t contest it. My mother was trying to work out her third marriage, and my father didn’t give a shit. As for my fair looks, I take after my mother who’s really blond and really white. Dad must have hated to be reminded of her every time he looked at me. Patty had dark hair and olive skin. What about you? What came before Harper?”
“Sally.”
“Like in ‘When Harry met Sally’?”
“Yup. I hated it.”
“You don’t strike me very much as a ‘Sally’. Harper suits you better. Oh, just to let you know, I got us a platter of cheese and crackers."
"No booze!" Harper blurted out in a panic.
“Hey, calm down Harper, its okay. No booze. I’m not planning to get you stone drunk and have my wicked way with you. I actually like cheese and crackers. So no worries, okay."
"Sorry," Harper was embarrassed. "I just don't like being around drinking."
"It's okay. Good to know as well." Courtney gave Harper a reassuring wink, "We can call that rule number one. No one drinks around Harper."
"Technically, my map notes are rule one and the towels are rule two."
"I better get some paper." Courtney nodded toward the room service tray. "Stop staring at me and go eat something. We can talk while you start on your steak. That piece of meat is not going to cut itself."
"Thanks for being so patient," Harper was grateful. "I know I'm pretty fucked up."
"Maybe, not as much as your think," Courtney replied as she opened the desk drawer for paper and a pen.
“And, for the record, I wasn’t worried about you getting me drunk and having your evil way with me.”
“Why? Do you usually take cross country road trips and check in hotel rooms with strange women?”
“No, but you’re not like that.”
“Like what, Harper? Gay?”
“Evil, you’re not evil, Courtney.”
***
Harper yawned. Courtney was still scribbling notes at the desk. It was almost midnight. The drive had been exhausting, but the two of them had managed to get a rhythm going with Harper’s rules and neither wanted to stop before they had worked out as many as they could. Harper knew there were more lurking, but Courtney had gotten the lion's share covered. It felt good to be able to talk out the vague rules clouding her mind to the other woman. Harper thought she might actually drift off to sleep in the blissful aftermath.
"Eighteen, nineteen, twenty," Courtney counted. "Are you sure you're out of steam? You sure you don’t have another twenty under the surface just waiting to break out?"
"No. I’m pretty sure we’re good."
"Well, we covered a lot of ground for tonight. Let me recap the short version and see if anything else breaks free, okay?"
Harper agreed, "What the Hell, go for it."
"Map notes, towel souvenirs, no booze, no sitting at a bar, no smoking, no chewing tobacco, no strawberries, no raspberries, four ounces cranberry and four ounces of orange juice every morning, Dunkin Donuts yes, Krispy Kreme no, tea yes, hot coffee no, iced coffee yes..."
"But, only with whipped cream," Harper blurted. "Almost forgot the most important part."
Courtney scribbled it down. "Whipped cream. Okay, where was I, fourteen was iced...Right, um, fifteen no copper units of money, no saying p-e-n-n..."
"Spelling it is almost as bad as saying it," Harper cringed.
Courtney scribbled more notes. "Okay, got it. Makes sense, I guess. That will be twenty-one. So, let's see. Back to our list. No, traveling in the far right lane on a three lane highway, no Judy Collins what so ever, no Seinfeld what so ever, Harper gets the bed closest to the window, and no polyester of any kind."
“And no flying.”
“Right, how could we forget that? So that’s twenty-two. Anymore?”
"That's all I can think of for now," Harper muttered as her eyes fluttered shut. “Hey Courtney, what about you? You got any rules?”
Harper could hear the other woman's smile in her tone. “Everyone’s got rules, Harper. We’ll talk about that another day. Goodnight, Harper.”
A while later, Harper was aware of Courtney getting up and turning off the night. Harper was grateful for the darkness. Her tears were free in the dark. She was mildly surprised when they didn’t come. A small smile edged at the corner of her mouth. Somewhere in her head, she thought she heard someone speaking.
"You did a great job today, Harper. I'm really proud of you." Harper was trying to convince herself it must be Courtney until the voice spoke again. "Mom and Dad would be really proud of you too if they weren't so fucked up."
A shiver ran down her back. "Hey there, Tommy. How's it hanging?"
"A lot better than you and I'm dead."
She could see his grin as he emerged from the mist behind the edge of her blanke
ts.
She had hoped for a dreamless sleep. A restful night without a thought in her head. Instead, she spent the night chatting across an ocean of synapses with her little brother.
***
December 4
"Good morning!"
Harper woke with a start. Courtney's greeting was more than chipper. Harper would have been annoyed, but the delicious smell of fried fat silenced any complaints.
"Bacon?" Harper's voice cracked as she struggled to sit up. "You made us breakfast?"
Courtney laughed. "Only on the most literal sense of the word. I ordered it last night while you were asleep. But, I did 'make it' to the door to 'get it' from room service. You okay with eggs sunny side up with extra bacon? They didn’t have any French toast. I know you like that."
"They had a run on French toast orders?"
Courtney shrugged, "Who knows? Could be political? Maybe I should have asked for DC Toast. Anyway, I went with the standard American default breakfast of bacon and eggs."
Harper crawled to the foot of the bed, still tangled in blankets. "Works for me. It smells great."
"Thought the word ‘bacon’ would wake you up. You start eating, and I'll hit the shower."
Harper spoke around a mouthful of egg. "Hey sit. Eat. No hurrying."
"I do need to keep an eye on the time. Remember, I'm technically working," Courtney made air quotes with two fingers of each hand.
“I thought you told Omar you were taking a couple of days off to rest your ankle”
“I did. But, I can't blow off an entire week. Jesus, Harper if word got round I sat on my butt all week because I twisted an ankle, I’ll be run out of the Executives’ Club.”
Harper winced a little. It wasn't the idea of work that bothered her as much as the drag on Courtney's schedule. She thought hard about what she was about to say as Courtney walked to the bathroom. Before the door closed, Harper found her voice.
"Wait!" She took a deep breath as Courtney turned. "I'm being selfish. If we stop in South Carolina like I wanted to, then we'll be on the road for an extra day. We could probably make it all the way to the Georgia border today. Then tomorrow we'll be in Florida."
