by Stacy M Wray
Crossing the street, I climb the three steps to the small landing and test the door – it opens with no resistance. People are so stupid. I step in, quietly shutting the door. Not moving a muscle, I make sure there’s no sign of life before I decide it’s safe to approach my room.
The door is shut. How symbolic. Twisting the knob, it opens easily, and I step in. Emotions hit me like a Mack truck. Shaking my head, I remind myself I don’t have time to be a coward. I glance around the room, relieved to see that it’s how I remember leaving it. Opening my closet door, I squat down to the corner board where I pried it up to stash my money I earned from Mr. H. I lift the small box from its hiding place and open the lid. Grinning, I see it’s all still there. Tick off step one. There’s enough money here to get me set up on my own.
I quickly grab a duffle bag and empty the contents of my dresser. I rifle through my closet, pull a few shirts off the hangers, and stuff them in, too. Most importantly, I grab my coat and a sock cap. I don’t bother with toiletries – I can pick them up at a Walgreens or something. I throw my box of money on top and zip it up, ready to leave my past behind, once and for all.
On my way out, I notice a pile of mail randomly thrown on the counter. I flip through the envelopes, hoping they didn’t mail some sort of notice of my release – I don’t want her knowing anything about my life from here on out. Bill after bill gets tossed aside before my eyes land on a professional business envelope addressed to me. The return address is a fancy pre-printed stamp from the law office of Williams, Mason, and Stout. My interest is piqued, wondering if it has anything to do with my stint in prison. I drop my bag to the floor. Thud. My finger slides under the gummed paper, ripping it open. Unfolding the neatly creased contents, I stare painfully at the words that swim in front of me, my free hand flying to my hair as I tug in sheer agony. My muscles tighten and my gut twists as I collapse, holding the edge of the counter to support me. This can’t be. God, please no.
After several minutes of trying to wrap my head around what I’ve just read, I realize my face is wet with tears. I can’t remember the last time I cried. Roughly wiping them with the back of my hand, I shove the letter in my coat pocket, pick up my bag and walk away from the boy who grew up in this shithole.
He doesn’t exist anymore.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Harper
January 25-31, 2014
Aries Horoscope: Your drive is on high this week, while others around you may be slovenly. Whip them into shape by the 28th so you can have control back by the 30th. Make sure you keep an open mind regarding past events, including relationships. Tread lightly if you are dealing with Capricorn, Aquarius, Libra, or Scorpio. Finances are excellent this week, as long as you plan accordingly.
This month sucks ass.
Glancing at the clock, I begin to clear my desk. I stack the manila file folders neatly on one side, ready to tackle tomorrow. I pick up my phone and dial my boss’s extension. “I just wanted to remind you that I’m leaving in five minutes for that appointment I told you about.” She tells me that she remembers, and she’ll see me tomorrow, her voice extremely understanding of my situation.
I hang up and grab my coat off the hook behind me, throwing my purse over my shoulder. My belly is on fire with nerves, hating this whole situation. I swipe at a stray tear, so tired of them showing up without my permission.
Slipping out the door, I notice it’s snowed since my lunch break. I’ll need to clear the bothersome flakes that have piled up on my windshield before heading to the offices just down the street.
I arrive on time and wait to be called back for my appointment with a Mr. Mason. My hands twist in my lap and my eyes drift to the pattern in the carpet below my feet, my heart heavy with the images from last week still fresh in my mind.
“Ms. James?”
My head jerks toward the voice. “Yes?”
“If you’ll just follow me, please. Mr. Mason is ready for you.”
I gather my coat and purse and stand to pass through the door she holds open. Her friendly, warm smile puts me at ease as I walk down the long hallway. I tell myself to relax.
Upon entering Mr. Mason’s office, he stands and extends his hand. “Ms. James. Glad you could make it. Have a seat.” His head indicates the chair in front of his desk as he walks around behind it and sits down. He folds his hands and places them on his desk, resting on his elbows. “I’m sorry -”
“Excuse me, Mr. Mason.” He looks up. “Mr. Faulkner has just arrived.”
My breathing ceases as my heart lands in my stomach. Slowly turning my head, my eyes lock on a face I haven’t seen in over two years. His hair is a bit longer and he’s filled out – his shoulders broader, thicker. He’s all man, now.
Glancing my way, he stops dead in his tracks. His eyes widen in shock before realizing he’s ignoring the hand that Mr. Mason has extended to him.
“Mr. Faulkner, good of you to come. Please, have a seat.”
Reed sits beside me, stealing another quick glance before Mr. Mason pulls some papers out of a legal file folder. I try like hell to keep my breathing normal. It’s really him.
“First, let me say how absolutely sorry I am about the passing of Mr. Hainley. He was loved around this office, I can assure you.”
I fight the lump in my throat as I notice that Reed extends a stiff nod. His hand closest to me forms a fist.
Clearing his throat, Mr. Mason continues, “I’ve invited you both here for the reading of Mr. Hainley’s will and testament. As you’re both probably aware, Mr. Hainley had no living wife, no kids, and no other living family members.” He glances down at the sheet in front of him. “It’s pretty cut and dry. Mr. Hainley sold his farm before he passed, since he had no one to pass it down to. Having said that, other than a few charities he left bequests to, the bulk of his estate has been passed down to the two of you.” He clears his throat once more before continuing.
I can hardly believe my ears. What?
As the clarity of the situation unfolds before me, I quietly seethe in anger that Reed would have the nerve to show up here today. How dare he? Yet, he didn’t even have the decency to show up the day they lowered Mr. H into the frozen ground.
“Ms. James. Mr. Hainley bequeathed you a lump sum of $500,000 – on the condition that you put yourself through the law school of your choice.” He smiles. “That was his only stipulation.”
I gasp, nearly falling out of my chair. $500,000? “Um…excuse me, but did you…”
He chuckles. “Yes, you heard me right. $500,000.”
I sit back in my chair, tears brimming my eyes, threatening to spill over at any moment.
Mr. Mason grabs a box of Kleenexes off his desk and extends them to me. He’s probably done that same gesture over and over in his line of business. “Thank you,” I squeak out, plucking the soft, white tissue from the box and dabbing it across my cheeks.
Turning his attention to Reed, he says, “And Mr. Faulkner. Mr. Hainley bequeathed a lump sum of 1.2 million dollars to you on the condition that you make it a point to ‘pay it forward’ – give someone a chance who normally wouldn’t have one.” He looks down at his notes, adding, “He said you’d know where he was coming from.”
I watch Reed hang his head, sniffing unabashedly, as his shoulders shake up and down. I’m madder than hell at him, but he’s breaking my heart right now.
Mr. Mason leans forward. “Do you need a minute?” His voice is so gentle.
After hearing another loud sniff, I pass the box of tissues to him and he yanks one, wiping his eyes. “No…I’m alright. That old man always loved to shock the hell out of me.” Reed smiles now, his eyes still shiny.
Mr. Mason returns the smile and claps his hands together. “Well, I guess that’s it. Told you – oh, wait, there’s one more thing.” He pulls out two envelopes and hands us each one. My name is scrawled in Mr. H’s handwriting across the top. “He left you both a letter.”
I choke up once again but breathe t
hrough it. I’ll deal with the letter later. I can’t think about that right now without losing it.
“If either of you have any questions regarding anything, don’t hesitate to call.”
Reed and I look at each other, both still in shock.
We both stand, shake Mr. Mason’s hand and thank him before we leave his office. Both of us are completely silent.
I’m unable to deal with seeing Reed again after all this time. He never once contacted me or explained why he dropped off the face of the earth. No explanation whatsoever. And now this? To show up now?
Not trusting myself, I yank my coat on in one swift motion and pick up my pace. I pass Reed and bust through the glass doors en route to my car.
“Harper! Harper – wait!”
Does he really want to do this here?
When I hit the sidewalk, I whip around, ready to let him have it. “How dare you show up today – holding your hand out – when you couldn’t be bothered to show up to Mr. H’s funeral? Where were you on that important day, huh, Reed? Where the fuck were you?” I scream that last question, and I don’t care who hears me.
He hangs his head in shame. And he damn well better. “That man loved you, and that’s how you repay him?”
He shakes his head, unable to meet my angry eyes. “I didn’t know, Harper. God…I didn’t know he died.” His words rush out in a whisper, and I can feel the pain seep from him, settling into my chest.
Confused, I ask, “Then how did you know about today?”
He looks up, so much torment in his eyes. “I got the letter yesterday. I’ve…I’ve been away, Harper. I stopped back home just yesterday, and I saw the letter on the counter.” His voice is so coarse, it scrapes against my skin, leaving invisible abrasions in its wake. “God, Harper, do you have any idea how it makes me feel that I missed that? He meant everything to me. He was the one person in my life I could count on, no questions asked.” His head dips back now, staring straight into the sky as he shouts, “I didn’t fucking know.”
He squats down, hands fisted into his hair, eyes shut tight. Oh, Reed, what has happened to you? He feels different to me. Angry. Hardened. Frustrated. My heart constricts, wanting so desperately to reach out to him. He wasn’t here for a handout today – no more than I was. I know how much Reed loved Mr. H. And I also know that he would have been there last week if he could have been.
I feel awful for suggesting otherwise.
Squatting down beside him, I place my hand on his wrist, gently pulling it from his hair. “I’m sorry, Reed. I shouldn’t have said any of that. I know you two shared a bond like no other.”
Opening his eyes, he looks at me with so much remorse. “I’m so sorry, Harper. So sorry for everything.”
This moment is so surreal. Reed. He’s here. Right beside me. And the reality of what just happened in the building behind me hits me again. “Reed?” I whisper.
He simply stares at me.
“What in the hell are you going to do with all that money?”
His face remains blank, and I wonder if he heard me. Finally, he shakes his head and whispers back, “I don’t fucking know.”
And I start to giggle, and I can’t stop. What was Mr. H thinking, handing over all that money to a couple of kids?
Reed looks at me as if I’ve gone insane, and perhaps, I have. I wasn’t kidding when I said this month sucks ass. But then, he grins, and those two summers come busting through my memory, hitting me straight in the heart. My bruised and tender heart. How could he leave me like that?
His hand reaches out, cupping my jaw, and I can’t help it. I lean into it. “Harper.” His eyes search mine and I wonder what he sees. “You must hate me.”
Shaking my head, I say, “No…no, I don’t. You broke me in two, but I healed. And I don’t hate you. I couldn’t, Reed. I just couldn’t.”
His eyes never leave mine when he says, “You’re going to get your dream, Harper. You’re going to be a lawyer. I’m so happy for you. I’m…really…so fucking happy for you, right now.”
And that’s why I could never hate him. I have no idea what happened, where he went. But I think I always knew that he would have been with me if he could. I felt it deep down in my core.
“Have dinner with me, Reed. Please. Say you’ll have dinner with me.” His eyes drop to my lips, then back to my eyes again.
“Okay.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Reed
January 2014
How on earth am I supposed to do this? Dinner means talking, and she must never find out where I’ve been. I know Mr. H kept his promise, never breathing a word to her – he told me himself, swore she didn’t know a thing.
I’ve spent the last two years basking in shame. Shame that I couldn’t keep it together longer than the few months that we were apart. Shame that I wasn’t good enough for her – she deserves so much better than me. And I was trying. Trying to be better than I ever had been, so I could finally be who she needed me to be. Harper’s mix of guileless intrigue and sheer gumption fashions her into one of the most amazing people I’ve ever met. Why on earth would she want to spend the rest of her life clinging to the fact that I could be what she wanted?
No, she’s been spoon-fed disappointment her whole life, and I refuse to be the next bite.
As much as I want her, I know I can’t have her.
But tonight, I’ll have dinner with her because I can’t walk away that easily. I hate the reason, but I can hardly believe that I’m looking into those sparkling green eyes again. Eyes full of questions that I can’t answer.
We’ve just been seated in a booth at a local Italian eatery. Harper claims she’s craving baked spaghetti. I rode with her on the drive over and she filled me in that her dad is in rehab right now. She seems thrilled that he’s finally getting the help he needs. I want to know every detail of her life since I last saw her, but I know I don’t have the right to ask.
After placing our orders, we watch each other carefully, neither of us truly knowing what to say.
“I can’t believe he’s gone,” she says, softly, smiling through her grief. Her eyes fall to the table, then back up to mine. “I’m sorry. It just occurred to me that you haven’t had near as much time as I have to digest the news you just received yesterday.”
“Doesn’t matter how much time – it still guts me just the same.”
She nods. “So…are you going to tell me what you’ve been up to?”
Just two years and three months behind bars for beating a piece of shit senseless.
My body tenses. I knew this was a bad idea. My eyes plead with her not to go there. And all I can do is stare at her, hoping my silence makes her understand. I don’t want to lie to her.
She swallows hard, and I hate the hurt that crosses her face. “Okay…why couldn’t you have contacted me yourself? Why go through Mr. H?”
Unable to hold her piercing stare, my gaze follows a waiter carrying plates up his arm. He places them around a table for six, making it appear effortless. Because I used my one phone call on Mr. H.
She releases a huge sigh across the table. “Fine. Ask me anything you want. We can’t sit here and stare at each other all night.” Her lips tip up in amusement. I can’t believe I’m going to get away with this, thinking for sure she’d be busting my balls by now.
“Hardly seems fair.”
“Since when has anything in our lives been fair?” The way she utters those words without an ounce of bitterness astounds me. If anyone should be bitter, it’s Harper. But she’s quite the opposite – always the fighter.
“You graduated last year, right?”
She nods. “Yes, but due to lack of funds, I decided to start slow and took a few online courses while working at a local law firm as a secretary…”
We smile at each other, both of us knowing that problem’s been solved.
“I still can’t believe it, Reed. I just can’t.”
“He was so generous…and not just with his mon
ey,” I say, trying not to choke on the words. Sitting back into the soft leather booth, I take Harper in, attempting to memorize the changes that twenty-seven months has brought on. She’s got to be nearly nineteen now, but I’d never know it – her maturity far exceeds her age. Wearing very little makeup, her flawless skin draws me in. I wonder how many guys she has falling at her feet - the mere thought drives me mad. Wearing her hair a bit longer seems to relax her natural waves. I recall the way it felt against my fingers all those months ago, soft and silky.
I think about the way I pictured her every time I stroked myself, attempting to expel the pent-up frustration being locked away, my dick far from any action. But it was always her that I fantasized about. Her lips, her pale skin, those long fucking legs. It never failed. After lights out, you could hear the culmination of horny men, slick palms sliding up and down their dicks, grunting out their frustrations to a mental picture seeped into their brains - me right along with them. But then it would just piss me off that I brought Harper’s sweet innocence into the filthy, disgusting confines of the walls around me.
It was a sentence all its own, riding on that wheel of thought like a fucking hamster. But I couldn’t help it and every night I still reached for my dick, pulling on myself so hard, it was almost brutal. The guilt and shame couldn’t stop me.
She rambles on about all the ways Mr. H loved to help us and those around him. The lilt of her voice wraps me in a safe cocoon – a place I find myself never wanting to leave, yet I know I must.
Finally, she’s quiet. I can tell she’s drifted to a place of contentment, recalling fond memories of our beloved friend and mentor inside that busy little head of hers.
“You still obsessed with astrology?” My question brings her out of her thoughts, a smile tugging at those gorgeous lips. Those lips stir up memories better left alone.
“If you mean do I still read my horoscope every week, the answer is yes, I do.” She tilts her head to the side, a quirk I picked up on a long time ago. I don’t think she has any idea how adorable she looks when she does.
