The mortgage for the house was low enough for her to be able to pay it every month. And she was making enough at the bookstore to get by, but there was no way she could afford the luxury of a studio. So she recorded her songs in other people’s studios for about a hundred dollars an hour. It wasn’t the most ideal situation, but it was enough to make her happy knowing her songs were at least recorded, regardless of the quality. Lately though, seeing as how the bookstore didn’t pay her much and she was only getting about fifty dollars in tips when she performed, Harper hadn’t had enough money to record anything. Still, she considered herself lucky. She had food to eat, a roof over her head, and clothes on her back. And if things ever got really bad, though she hated thinking about it or even admitting it, she could always sell the house. That would be the last thing Harper would ever want to do, but she always kept it in the back of her mind as an option if her money issues were ever out of control.
Harper took her capo and fastened it to the third fret on her Gibson and started arbitrarily plucking the strings, enjoying the sound each note was making. She loved this guitar. It was her pride and joy, and the most recent addition to her collection, if you can consider three guitars a collection. She worked tirelessly, saving up little by little for four years. Until finally, a year ago, she was just two hundred dollars shy of having enough money to get it. Finn and Kiley ended up pitching in a hundred each, with a fair amount of protest from Harper. They insisted on giving her the money, especially after the terrible year she had just endured, and she finally brought home her coveted four-thousand-dollar guitar. For Harper, it was worth every penny.
In the past year, she had written some of her best songs with that guitar and knew there would be a lot more to come. Harper rarely ever spoiled herself. The only thing she owned that was more expensive than her Gibson was her car. Other than that, she pretty much tried to live within her means, all the while trying to refrain from thinking about Oscar Wilde’s famous words: “Anyone who lives within their means suffers from a lack of imagination.” Obviously Oscar Wilde never lived in LA, where if you took one step outside your monetary comfort zone, you could easily be bankrupt within a year. All because you wanted that big screen TV or a new BMW. Harper never saw the point of spending big when all it did was cause stress and buyer’s remorse.
The Gibson would have been the fourth guitar in Harper’s collection. Not a day went by where Harper didn’t wish she still had her first guitar with her: the acoustic Takamine her father bought her. It was the one she used to write her first song. She may have used that guitar a little less when she bought her Alvarez, but it was still important to her and one of the best memories she had of her father. But Harper tried her best not to dwell on it. The Takamine was gone and there was nothing she could do about it. She closed her eyes, positioned her left fingers on the strings of her Gibson and began to strum. After the short intro, her voice began to fill the garage as she sang the words she had written two years ago, right after her sister ran away. She could feel herself letting the words affect her. Everything she had ever felt, all the fights they had, every problem she had with Emily, how much she missed her and had been hurt by her, came pouring out of her voice and into the air, with no one there to hear it. At that moment, Harper found herself wishing Emily was there to hear her words. Maybe then her little sister would finally understand how destructive she’d been to herself and everyone around her.
***
The closet that once held all of Harper’s clothes and other personal belongings was now nearly empty as she threw the last article of clothing over her head, landing behind her in a pile of other clothes. Once the closet was completely empty, she got up and looked around her room. The horrified look on her face was not the reaction to the disarray her room was in and the fact that all of her belongings were strewn everywhere to the point that you could no longer see the carpet anymore, but was more the result of the fact that she still hadn’t located what she’d been searching for. She hopped, skipped and jumped her way out of her room in order to avoid stepping on anything valuable along the way and proceeded to scour the rest of the house for the third time. Her footsteps covered all areas of the living room, kitchen, garage, and even the bathroom. She peeked her head into her parents’ room, but knew it wouldn’t be there. She went back to her bedroom, stood in the doorway, and leaned over as far as she could to grab the keys off her dresser. With the keys in her hand, she went outside, unlocked the car door and frantically began searching the back seat, without any luck. She then popped the trunk and examined its contents very slowly, making sure nothing was missed. All that lay in the trunk were jumper cables, a gym bag, and a half empty jug of coolant. Dejected, Harper slammed the trunk down and went back inside.
She decided to search her room one more time, got down on her hands and knees and sifted through all the items on the floor. The feeling of panic that had set in an hour ago was now turning into full-fledged terror. Harper didn’t dream of calling her parents to ask if they’ve seen it. She didn’t want to interrupt their much-needed weekend vacation in Las Vegas, but she also wasn’t in the mood to hear any lectures of how important it is to keep track of your stuff and how irresponsible it is to lose something like that. Harper got into a pushup position and stuck her face under her bed, hoping she had missed it. She collapsed in defeat when it was nowhere to be found.
“Em! Have you seen my guitar?” yelled Harper, not bothering to get up from her vanquished position. She buried her face in a pile of her clothes while waiting for a response.
Emily stood in the doorway of Harper’s room, eating a bowl of cereal. “You lost it?”
“I didn’t lose it. It’s just not where I left it.”
Emily nodded and took another bite of her cereal. “Drag.”
Harper brought her head up to look at her sister’s disheveled appearance. Her normally healthy, shiny hair was stringy and looked like it hadn’t been washed in days. Her black and white camo pants were wrinkled and her black spaghetti string tank top didn’t even cover the fresh tattoo on Emily’s shoulder; the one she had been so desperate to hide from her parents.
“I just played it last night. Can you help me look for it?” asked Harper.
“I would, but I don’t want to.” Emily turned around and started to walk away.
Harper, still on the floor, called after her. “You look like shit, you know that? When was the last time you showered?”
Emily turned around. “When was the last time you minded your own fucking business?”
Harper started to get up. “You keep dressing like that, and mom and dad are gonna notice that tattoo.”
“Well, they’re in Vegas right now, aren’t they?” Emily put the cereal bowl down on the coffee table in the living room.
Harper stood there, observing her sister and realized just how much her appearance had altered. It broke her heart to see her little sister turning out the way she was, but deep down Harper was hoping it was all a phase. Still, it wasn’t just her appearance that had changed. Her personality and mood had altered as well. Harper never touched on the subject, but she pretty much knew what her sister had been doing in the last six months and knew it was the reason for how much she had changed.
Harper cocked her head to one side. “You mind if I take a look in your room?”
Emily folded her arms. “It’s not in there.”
Harper started walking towards Emily’s room. “I’m sure it’s not, but I just want to check for myself.”
Emily followed her older sister. “What, you don’t trust me?”
Harper turned to face her sister. “Of course I trust you. I trust you more than I trust anyone. You’re my sister. I just think I’m gonna go crazy if I don’t search everywhere. Hell, I looked under the couch cushions. I’m desperate.” She turned around and headed into Emily’s room.
Emily charged after her. “Wait! Harper, it’s not in there, I promise!”
Harper
stopped once she was in her sister’s room. She realized she hadn’t been in here in a while and noticed that it had changed just as much as Emily had. Where there were once posters of Disney characters and dolphins, were now blank walls, with the exception of a few disturbing drawings hung up on the bulletin board. The floor was much filthier than Harper’s, and Harper at least had the excuse of having the entire contents of her closet currently on her floor. She looked over at Emily’s dresser and noticed a bag of marijuana sitting there in plain sight. Emily knew her sister had spotted it, and closed her eyes, bracing for the worst. Harper walked over to the dresser and examined the bag. Then, she opened the top drawer and dug around to find another bag, this one almost empty containing with a white, powdery substance.
Harper scrutinized the bags for a minute. “Shit,” she mumbled to herself and turned around to face her sister. “Emily…what are you…”
Emily’s eyes were still closed, anticipating Harper’s words.
Instead of giving her sister a verbal lashing, Harper stood there, stunned, as a sickening feeling penetrated her stomach. She felt her face go flush as a sad epiphany slowly entered her mind. Harper was no longer concerned with the drugs she just found in her sister’s dresser, and more concerned about what else she would find. She dropped the bags on the dresser and started digging further into the top drawer.
Emily opened her eyes and hurtled toward Harper. “There’s nothing else in there.”
“I’m inclined not to believe you.”
“Harper, please. I promise, there’s nothing else.” She grabbed her sister’s arm just as Harper had pulled out a wad of cash.
Harper stared at the money for a moment, then slowly started counting it. Her nausea began to increase with every twenty-dollar bill she tallied up. “Three hundred dollars.”
Emily could feel a lump rise up in her throat.
“Harper…”
“Three hundred dollars,” repeated Harper. “Three hundred. Which is about how much my guitar would go for.” Once all the pieces were added up, Harper grew dizzy knowing exactly what the outcome was. She violently threw the money at Emily. “You sold my guitar!!?? You fucking sold my guitar!!??” Unable to control her rage, she lunged at Emily, grabbing her arms and forcefully shaking her. “Where is it? Where is it!?”
Emily was speechless. All she could do was shake her head.
“Where’s my guitar!?”
Emily couldn’t stave off the piercing pain in her arms anymore. She broke away from her sister’s grip and took a step back, rubbing her right arm with her left hand. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.”
Harper took a deep breath. “Where is it?”
Emily shook her head again. “It’s gone. I’m sorry. It’s gone. I don’t know where. I don’t even know who I sold it to. Just some guy.”
Harper started to rub her head with her hands, trying to keep any tears from pouring out. “You sold my guitar for drug money?”
Emily was silent.
“How long has this been going on, Em? How long have you been…” Harper paused. “Wait. You know what? I don’t care. I don’t care because you and I are done. So I don’t give a shit.” She shoved her little sister as she stormed out of the room, leaving Emily standing alone with three hundred dollars cash at her feet.
***
The flatness of the A string on her guitar infiltrated Harper’s ears, causing her to grimace at the out of tune sound. She turned the tuning peg slightly to the left to bring the string back in tune. Instead of continuing to practice, she put the guitar down and tried her best not to dwell on the fact that she longed just one more time to play the Takamine her father bought her. Instead of reflecting on the past and gearing her anger toward Emily, she decided it was time to take out her frustration yet again. She fastened her wraps, secured her gloves, hit play on the cd player, and proceeded to practice her jabs on the punching bag, listening to the wise words of Freddie Mercury repeating the words “don’t stop me now.”
CHAPTER 8
It didn’t seem to matter to Finn that his shoelace was untied. He didn’t even notice it until he brought his leg up to rest on his other thigh. He allowed the loose shoelace to dangle, rubbing up against his leg as he restlessly bounced his ankle up and down. The silence in the air was filled with the cracking of each of his individual fingers, one by one as he unwittingly crushed each knuckle with his thumb. When there were no more knuckles to crack, he discovered there were still plenty of fingernails to gnaw on, transferring his nervous energy to every part of his body he possibly could. Anything to avoid actually speaking, not knowing exactly what to say. Eight minutes had passed by the time he got to the middle finger on his left hand. He had no idea where to go from there.
“You know, I’ve heard that cracking your knuckles can lead to arthritis when you’re older.”
Finn momentarily stopped nibbling on his nails. “Oh yeah? And what about biting fingernails?”
Dr. Harris leaned back into her chair and cocked her head to one side, “Just a really gross habit.”
Finn brought his hand down and rested it on his lap. “Okay. So what’s on the agenda for today?”
“You tell me.”
Finn shrugged. “I haven’t heard from her in a couple days.”
“Well, you’re broken up. That’s natural.”
“Yeah, maybe. It’s just, she’s been through a lot. And I want to be there for her. I just don’t know how I can without it seeming like I want to get back together with her.”
“Do you want to get back together?”
Finn paused for a moment. “Yeah, of course. I love her.”
“Does she still love you?”
Finn looked over toward the window, not wanting to answer the question. He knew the answer; he just didn’t want to say it out loud. Thinking about the whole situation and finally opening up about it was starting to wear on Finn’s emotions. He continued to stare at the window as he felt his eyes welling up with tears, afraid to blink in fear of letting one escape. His attempt to prevent such a travesty was an epic failure. Once one tear started rolling down his face, it was soon joined by two more, then five more until he finally had to wipe them away with his shirt sleeve.
***
“I need another trash bag! This one’s full.”
“I’ll get one for you, Mom.” Harper got up from her comfortable spot on the couch and ran to the kitchen to get more trash bags. When she returned, Finn was sitting in her seat.
“Out,” Harper gestured with her thumb. “Come on. Up you get. That’s my spot.”
Finn looked around. “Is your name on it?”
Harper scoffed. “Generic, much? Come on.” She bent over and picked up a piece of wrapping paper covered with snowmen, wadded it up and playfully threw it at Finn.
Harper’s mom chimed in. “Finn, you might want to do what she says. That’s been her spot every Christmas morning since she was six years old.”
“Well, she can sit on my lap. I can be her new spot,” explained Finn as he grabbed his girlfriend and pulled her down onto his lap. Harper smiled as he gently kissed her neck. “I love you,” he whispered just loud enough for only Harper to hear.
“I love you, too,” she whispered back. “But I still want my spot back.”
“Get a room, kids…Wait! No…don’t.” Harper’s dad was in the middle of unwrapping a present when he paused, looking at who it was from. “Harp, where’s your sister?”
Harper shrugged. “Probably still in bed. I knocked on her door twice already.”
“Unbelievable. She can’t even drag her ass out of bed on Christmas morning? I want her here when I’m opening her present,” complained Harper’s dad, Paul. “EMILY! GET YOUR BUTT OUT HERE NOW!!!!”
“Shhh…Honey, you’re gonna wake the whole neighborhood,” Harper’s mother warned.
“It’s Christmas morning, Trish. The whole neighborhoods already awake.”
“I
’m here. You can stop yelling now,” said Emily, rubbing her head and sullenly taking a seat on the recliner. Her bloodshot eyes didn’t go unnoticed by Harper, who’s disapproving look made Emily keep her focus on the ground.
“Merry Christmas, sweetie.” Mrs. Foley kissed Emily on the forehead and handed her a present.
“Thanks, Mom.” She looked over at her dad, who just opened her present. “So, what do you think, Dad?”
He held up a black, stylish button-down shirt. “I think you’re trying to make me cooler than I actually am.”
“Well, with that shirt, now you can fool the world.”
Mr. Foley smiled at his younger daughter. “Thanks for thinking I can pull this off.”
“Well, mom helped me pay for it.” Emily started unwrapping her present from Harper, still avoiding eye contact. She pulled the last of the Santa Claus wrapping paper away to find four different cd’s that she had been dying to have. She grinned thinking about how scary it was knowing her sister knew her so well. The grin soon faded when she thought about Harper’s reaction if she ever found out she already had those cd’s hiding underneath her bed so no one would suspect she had stolen them. “Thanks, Harper. These are great.”
“No problem. It’s good to know you at least have some good taste in music,” replied Harper.
Emily looked over at her sister’s boyfriend. “So Finn, what did you get my sister? The $4,000 Gibson guitar she’s been drooling over for the last two years?”
Harper shot Emily a look. “If he did, I wouldn’t let YOU anywhere near it.”
Emily retreated and went back to lackadaisically thumbing through the cd’s Harper got her.
A Fine Mess Page 6
