by Stacy M Wray
I take a break and goof around on the internet, check my emails and Facebook account – anything to give my brain a rest.
I Google Reed’s name again, trying to find any morsel of information I can, but I always come up empty. He’s not on any kind of social media whatsoever.
But he’s got to be in Oklahoma. I received another horoscope clipping last week and the postmark continually reads Tulsa, Oklahoma. Reed is the only person I have ever admitted to having an interest in astrology to, and I think it’s his mysterious way of letting me know he still thinks of me. And often.
It started back in September. I had been here at the University of Chicago for a little over a month and a half, and one day, a letter showed up in my mailbox. It had no return address, just a postmark. Only, it wasn’t a letter. It was a clipping from a newspaper of a horoscope reading – Aries. I admit, it threw me for a loop, having no idea who would send such a thing. But the more I thought about it, the more I knew it was Reed.
Just saying his name in my head causes my chest to ache.
And I’ve received three more since then. Except the one I received yesterday wasn’t the reading from Aries – it was the reading from Libra.
I dig in my backpack and pull out the envelope, thinking if I stare at it long enough, it will reveal the secrets of the person who mailed it. Pulling the clipping out, I unfold it once and read it again.
Libra Horoscope: Your desire for beauty, harmony, and balance increases this week, and you’re more than willing to actively seek them. There may be more grace and compassion expressed in your relationships now and you may enjoy taking care of a loved one. In the weeks ahead, efforts to improve your work, health, and daily routines will help clear your mind and free you of guilt. The key may be renewed faith in what you’re doing or the belief that more meaningfulness will reveal itself in the future.
I’m darn sure that Reed is unaware of my knowledge of his astrological sign. But I feel like he’s trying to tell me something. And it gives me more hope than I’ve had in, like…forever.
I often still wonder what happened to him – why Mr. H wouldn’t divulge his whereabouts after he disappeared. I just need to trust that Mr. H had his reasons, as did Reed. I have faith that one day he’ll tell me. Something deep in my bones affirms that he will. I cling to the belief that the most important things in life are revealed to us when the time is right – my mom used to tell me this over and over. That’s why I never pushed him that night at the restaurant. But, still…I wonder.
I know clinging to a first love, especially when he made it clear that we have no future, is unrealistic. But I carry Mr. H’s words in my heart daily. For such a wise old man to tell me to never give up on Reed, to hold on tight and have patience, well, I just know there’s something there. I still feel it in my gut.
Reed still thinks about me.
Furthermore, I never told him where I had decided to go to college. He took the time to find me, and that speaks volumes.
Sometimes, I think I chose Chicago because it made me feel closer to him, even though I knew he wasn’t here. I keep wondering if, someday, he’ll return. Especially now that he knows where I am. Truthfully, I also didn’t want to be too far from my dad. He’s been doing great since being out of rehab, but there are times I can still see the tortured look on his face. He goes blank and then looks panicked. And I know it’s at those times that he feels an urge to pop the cap off a cold bottle of beer or twist the paper seal free from a bottle of tequila.
I know I can’t always be there for him, especially now that I’m enrolled as a full-time student. As far as I know, he’s not fallen off the wagon yet, but I don’t know if I’ll ever relax enough to think he’s cured for good. One day at a time… I get to see him in just a couple of weeks for Thanksgiving break. The only thing I’m dreading about going back home is seeing another family living across the street.
I’ve still not come to terms with it, and it makes me angry when I see the new owner walking around on Mr. H’s livelihood. I’m just glad I’m not there to witness it every day.
I scold myself and shut the screens down from social media. I’m here to study. Not one day goes by that I take being on this campus for granted. I’ve been given a gift like no other, and I have no intention of squandering it. I’m driven to excel in every way possible, thanking Mr. H internally every single day. I’ll never forget the way my dad wept when I told him about my inheritance. It nearly broke me in two.
Folding up the clipping, I shove it back in the main compartment of my backpack, knocking my phone to the floor in the process. In the middle of an eerily quiet library, I may as well have pushed a boulder off a cliff and had it land in the middle of the study tables. Irritated glares shoot my way as I pick up my phone.
After another hour, my attention continues to drift in the direction of unproductive, and I pack up my books and walk towards the exit. The studious patrons have already forgotten about my earlier faux pas, and I slip out the glass double doors unnoticed.
Bitter cold air hits me in the face, and I quickly loop my scarf around twice. I push it up over my chin, the fibers tickling my bottom lip. The blustery wind picks up as I clear the limestone building of the library, causing the temperature to feel colder than the thirty-eight degrees forecasted for today. I pick up my pace, practically running across campus to stay warm. My ears sting from the bite of the chilled air, and I berate myself all the way home for forgetting to stuff my beanie in my pocket as I ran out the door. It’s going to be a long winter.
Approaching my dorm, a prickly feeling creeps up the back of my neck. I throw a quick glance over my shoulder, especially since the sun dips swiftly this time of year, dark approaching around five-thirty on a cloudy day like today. My eyes scan the courtyard before I swipe my keycard into the device on the outside of the door, almost sure that someone’s eyes are on me. Seeing nothing out of the ordinary, I bound inside. I’m thankful to be in the overly warm, dry heat of the ancient building.
By the time I reach the third-floor landing, I’m already sweating under my coat. I begin to peel it off as I walk down the long hallway. Music drifts from the rooms that have their doors ajar, Imagine Dragon’s Demons battling the twangy notes of Blake Shelton’s Lonely Tonight from three doors down. I laugh to myself at how ridiculous they sound together.
I notice my door is cracked, a clue that my roommate, Melanie, is back from her last class. Pushing it open, I see she’s sprawled across her bed, laptop open. She’s from Illinois, a place called Effingham. Her blonde bob hairstyle hangs in her face, shadowing her cute fairy nose. I smile inside, because I can’t help but think of pixies when Melanie’s around. She’s very petite, just like a pixie, and her voice is a little on the high side. Yeah, I think my roommate came from some enchanted forest, but she still insists she’s from Effingham.
“Hey, you should see this picture circulating the campus.” Her face twists from awe to disgust in a matter of seconds. “Oh my god, Harper…come here.”
Wondering what has her so enthralled, I toss my coat on my bed before plopping on hers. Adjusting my eyes to the screen, I ask, “Is that what I think it is?”
Her eyes widen as she answers, “Yep. Someone whipped out their cell phone during the pledge initiation at the Kappa Alpha house.” This boy is seriously eating out some girl who is lying on the floor naked from the waist down, surrounded by frat guys cheering him on.
“I can’t believe that. Do you suppose the girl goes to school here?” It’s so cringe-worthy - the video depicting that it’s just another Saturday night party.
She turns the laptop to look again. “Nah, pretty sure they hire strippers for those things.”
We both shake our heads, losing interest quickly. Melanie studies me for a minute. “You just now getting back from the library?”
I nod as I climb off her bed and sit on mine cross-legged, unzipping my backpack. “This Spanish class is stressing me out.” As I begin unpacking my bag, the mysterious clipping f
alls out as I pull out my text book. My mind immediately pivots to Reed. Where are you?
When I look up, I catch the last millisecond of Melanie’s eye roll.
“You work your ass off, Harper. You make A’s and B’s on every test. You got this, girl.”
Knowing I’ve earned her eye rolls, I realize she’s right, up to this point. I’m obsessed with studying and receiving high marks. I work harder than most. But I’m here for one thing and one thing only – to get my degree and then move on to law school. That’s my intended path and nothing will stop me.
My stomach rumbles loud enough for Melanie to hear. She closes her laptop and pushes up from her bed. “Come on…let’s go down to the food court. When was the last time you ate?”
Thinking for a moment, I realize I forgot to eat lunch, only consuming a granola bar around eleven. “Yeah, alright.” I tell myself I’ll be able to concentrate better once my stomach is filled.
Following her out the door, the folded Libra horoscope catches my eye once more. I can’t forget that my air is reaching out to me.
Something stirs within, my zodiac fire growing, burning a little bit more with each clue he sends me.
I’ll never give up hope that, one day, it will develop into a roaring blaze.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Reed
April 2015
Wiping the mahogany top with a quick swipe of my towel, I ask the man who just seated himself, “What can I get you?”
Noticing his three-piece suit, I figure he came from one of the fancy business offices within walking distance, hoping to unwind after a long day. This guy’s not a contender.
He taps his fingers on the sleek wood, loosening his expensive silk tie from around his neck. “Hendrick’s martini. Dirty.”
“You got it.” Reaching for the gin and vermouth, I create his drink in no time, gently sliding the glass in front of him.
He tosses his credit card beside the cocktail. “Start a tab.”
I nod to him in reply and insert his card into the machine before handing it back to him. I keep my ears glued to the conversations floating around me, an art I’ve perfected over time.
My eyes scan the warm bodies seated in front of the bar. My head jerks back quickly when I spot an older man at the other end, nursing his beer. He looks a lot like Mr. H, and my chest tightens with grief and then expands with warmth. Just knowing him made me a better person. I’m still working on the rest.
Yeah, I finally read the letter he left for me, but it took a damn long time. Once I stopped attending my anger management classes, I felt a little lost. I needed to hear his voice, even if it was only on paper. I parked my car in a place of solitude, away from Brent, and ripped open the envelope that had been haunting me for months.
Reed,
I know you don’t need no damn letter to tell you how I feel about you. That first day you stepped foot on my farm, I knew you. That was me, fifty-some odd years ago, and you burrowed your way into my heart like a tick under my skin.
Son, I know you were dealt a crappy hand in life and I always hated that for you – that your own parents couldn’t see what I saw – feel what I felt. I always knew you had the makings of a great man. You just needed a little guidance. I’ve no doubt you’ll find your way, Reed. Not one cotton picking doubt.
Forget about your past mistakes. Move on and start over. This money I’ve left you doesn’t guarantee you success – you hear me, son? It’s just to make your adjustment a hell of a lot easier. Now I’m not going to dictate how you spend this money ‘cause it’s an awful lot. The only thing I request of you from my grave is that you pay it forward. Share your gifts, Reed. And not just money, but what you’ve learned. You know what it’s like to shoulder life’s rough edges. Make them smooth for someone else. Pass the gift of what you’ve been taught and make someone else’s life a little easier. Just like I had someone do for me. If you break the cycle of one kid’s life, I’ll rest easier wherever I end up.
I know you, Reed, and it’s going to take some time for you to figure this out. You’ll know when you do. It’s a feeling that twists in your gut so tight, you have no choice but to listen. And when you have your life back together, go get your girl. You two were brought together for a reason. Don’t muck that up, Reed, whatever you do. Harper’s the real deal.
Mr. H.
I bawled like a baby that day, my head bent down on top of my steering wheel, shoulders shaking unabashedly, tears dripping off my chin. I thought being shipped to that farm was a prison term like no other, but it turned out to be the best thing that ever happened to me. Harper and Mr. H were my family. I don’t have to share blood with someone to make them mine. We just need shared moments – feelings.
I miss him so much. But, if I’m being honest, not as much as I miss Harper. It’s like there’s a gaping hole in my heart, something missing. And I know it’s her. Because just the small act of reading and cutting her horoscope out of a newspaper filled that hole just a tiny bit. Just the small act of hiring an investigator to find her and having her address in my hand filled that hole a tiny bit more.
And that’s why I moved back to Chicago, even though I’ve got enough ghosts here to fill a cemetery. But this is where Harper is. And just by being in the same city, that hole fills in a little bit more.
But the day I finally saw her? Damn. My chest almost hurt as the empty space kept filling up. I had been hanging out in the courtyard of her dorm, freezing my ass off, just hoping to catch a glimpse. And then, I saw her. She was walking so briskly, she was practically running. A red scarf was wrapped around her neck, but even from my distance, I knew those lips anywhere. I remember kissing those lips, feeling them on my body, driving me wild knowing they were touching my skin. Just seeing her for that moment warmed me from the inside out, blocking out the bitter cold wind that had been piercing me for hours.
That was a damn good day. But it was several months ago.
When I feel that hole enlarge, I seek her out, if only to catch a brief sighting. I don’t want her to know I’m here, which is why I send envelopes to Brent and ask him to mail them. He gives me a bunch of shit about it, but I don’t give a fuck. She can’t know I’m here. Even though I can’t let her go, I feel like she deserves better. Someone who doesn’t have to check off the yes box on a job application asking, “Have you ever been convicted of a felony?” Someone who doesn’t have to hide to feel close to them.
I know I don’t need to work. But I need to – I can’t sit idly. I’m still trying to figure things out. I got lucky when Damon, my boss, didn’t give a shit about my prison stint. He just told me to keep my nose clean and we’d get along fine. Works for me.
Mr. Suit taps his fingers beside his empty glass. I promptly make him another drink and then grab a hard cider for the guy two seats down.
Everyone sitting here seems settled tonight. Last night, I had a guy in here who I paid close attention to and struck up a conversation with him during the lull before it got busy. He had lost his job a few days ago and didn’t know how to tell his wife. They had a two-year old at home and she just informed him she was pregnant a couple of weeks ago. I could feel his pain from the other end of the bar.
Since he paid with a credit card, I memorized his name and number and gave it to my private investigator to track him down. He then got his banking information, and I made sure a nice hunk of a deposit hit his account the next day.
But I’m still disconcerted. I know this isn’t what Mr. H was talking about. But it’s the only thing I can do right now. I consider it to be a stepping stone until I come up with a plan.
Mr. H did me right by giving me the information of his financial advisor tucked into the letter he left me. He told me that if I went to him, he’d help me grow my inheritance. He said he was the most trusted and intelligent guy he’d ever done business with, and the amount of my inheritance was mostly due to him. So, when I got to Chicago, I looked him up. And Mr. H wasn’t shitting me. My money has n
early doubled.
But I still don’t touch it unless I absolutely need to, living in a modest apartment off my bartender’s salary and tips. I enjoy the work and, most of the time, I enjoy the people. Sure, I get my share of assholes, but, for the most part, the patrons are great. And the tips are even better.
I now find the riotous conversations that hover in the bar comforting, almost like a white noise, blocking out the voices in my head and, most nights, the hole in my heart. But it doesn’t seem to be working tonight.
As the hour approaches 2:00 a.m., the last customer stumbles out, hopefully into a cab. I clean up and replenish before I walk down the short hallway to Damon’s office. “Everything’s shut down, boss. See you tomorrow.”
He looks up from his computer, acknowledging me. “Right. See you tomorrow, Reed.” His gaze returns to his computer before jerking back up to me. “You got the girls?”
I nod. “Yep. Got ‘em.”
He lifts his chin in response. “Good night.”
I head for the exit, where Didi and Hope, the waitresses on shift tonight, wait for me to walk them to their cars. “You girls ready?”
“Been ready. Let’s go, Reed. My feet are killing me.” If Hope wouldn’t wear such high heels to wait tables in, she’d be a lot better off. But I keep that opinion to myself.
After they are safely tucked into their cars, the ache I felt earlier in my chest grows. I drive to Harper’s dorm once I get behind the wheel, unable to stop myself.
I purposely work in a bar far from Harper’s campus. Even though I know she’s not twenty-one yet, I still don’t want to take any chances she may end up here someday. College kids usually gravitate to bars they can walk to.
Taking a different route each time, unsure as to why, I drive through the abandoned streets. There’s not too much traffic at this hour. Even on nights I don’t close, I find myself roaming the streets, driving mindlessly to escape inside my head.
I haven’t slept well since my stint in prison, always having one eye open. Still, to this day, I sleep like shit, always getting behind the wheel to drive around the mostly empty city. Sometimes, I’m out for a half-hour. Other times, it can be for a couple of hours. Now, it’s a habit I can’t seem to break.
