TWELVE MINUTES

by Kathryn Hewitt

  “Actually, yeah. That would be great.” I nodded, but I suspected that it was more for me, like I was reaffirming to myself that it would be a good idea. Because I really did need the help, and I had already been doubting my plan of asking James.

  “Cool. I gotta get back, but text me your address later and I’ll see you tomorrow. Bye, Cass,” Harrison called, already walking away from me back to his job, my paint and I undoubtedly already forgotten.

  And that was how I spent the first week of summer, painting my room with Harrison and taking turns making fun of each other.

  ✧✧✧

  “So I said to Alex, I’ll play you for shotgun, because like hell was I squeezing into the back with Lanny, Ralph, and Big J…” Harrison glanced down at himself and I could understand. Harrison had to be at least 6 foot, but he could have been taller. He wasn’t especially bulky, and unlike Charlie he didn’t look like he spent his time sculpting his physique, but his white tees always fit a little snugly and I had figured out that Harrison got all of the heavy lifting at work, both literally and figuratively, so I couldn’t imagine that fitting into a backseat with three other guys would have been especially comfortable for him. “And Big J isn’t called that ironically. So Alex, always the dumbass, clearly forgot that I’m actually really good at poker, so naturally, I cleaned up and saved myself a very…uncomfortable ride. You should have seen those guys, smashed in the back of the Buick like overstuffed sausages in a sardine can…” Harrison doubled over laughing at his memory, and I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Harrison, I’m starting to figure out that you’re “actually really good” at a lot of things…” I gestured at the area of the room that he had just finished the trim-work on with my brush, hoping that he wasn’t then going to look at mine, which I was praying might magically improve once the paint had dried.

  “What can I say, I have many hidden talents. Most of which are of the caliber of being entertaining to a ten year old boy, but they say to stick to what you know.” Harrison shook his head as he turned back to work.

  “Uh huh. So these guys that you always talk about…they’re like your crew or something?”

  “Cass, sometimes I feel like you’re the princess who is slumming it with the guy from the wrong side of the tracks. You talk about my life like it’s not only a mystery to you, but an intriguing one at that. Like, you’d get a kick out of going to the grocery store and mingling with the ordinary people,” he said without turning back from his work, a teasing quality to his tone. “Trust me, my ‘crew’ are a bunch of dudes who have nothing to do and get into jackass situations because we’re all too dumb to put our time to good use. But yeah, I’ve known those guys forever, so they’re pretty much the usual suspects.”

  “Well, how will I ever blend in with the commoners, Harrison, if I don’t get you to teach me the way?” I joked back, because the truth was that his life did seem intriguing in a normal ordinary amazing kind of way. I thought mine had been like that once, but it felt so far away that I couldn’t even be sure that it had been real.

  “Well, if there’s one thing I am, it’s ordinary, so you’ve come to the right teacher,” he responded. “And don’t worry, I won’t expect you to acknowledge me if you’re out with your real friends. I get how it is…” I thought that he was still joking, because that’s what we did, but there was a strange note to his voice when he said this last part. Like he was serious that if I were to be out with my imaginary posse of models and influencers, he’d understand if I didn’t acknowledge him.

  “I’d need to have friends in order to do that, Harrison…”

  This time though, I didn’t feel weird about exposing a truth about myself. Which was weird.

  “So you say, but it’s cool. I get it. We’re not exactly likely friends, so it makes sense that we don’t really intermingle in each others’ lives.” He still had his back to me, but he shrugged like the truth was the truth, in a very Harrison way.

  “You kind of seemed like a dick when I met you,” I said, and wondered if I actually wasn’t part of the human race. Who said stuff like that?

  This time, Harrison turned around as he broke into the loudest longest laugh. He was practically doubled over, like his stomach was hurting him, he was laughing so hard. It was my turn to shrug.

  “Well, with Harrison Zane, you get what you get, take me or leave me,” he said, once he’d caught his breath. “And I already told you what I thought of you when I met you, so it’s not like I didn’t deserve that. My god, Cass, you’re too much.”

  “You’re the first jerk I’ve ever met that I decided to paint a room with, so that has to count for something,” I offered in apology. Hopefully he understood that I no longer thought that he was an asshole. I mean, maybe he was, but I never saw that side of him. “I’d be interested in your little brother’s opinion on the subject, though…”

  “Oh, The Monster would have an entire treatise on the topic, if you asked him. But I’ve earned every bit of it. What are big brothers for, anyway? He’ll thank me one day…” Harrison laughed again before getting back to what he’d been doing.

  Not having a brother, or even a younger sibling, I couldn’t really relate. What I could do was remember the game “Rug,” and everything that a younger sibling would do just to receive any attention from their object of reverence. I was pretty certain that having Harrison for a big brother was enough to warrant quite a healthy amount of hero-worship.

  “I’m pretty sure that you are his idol, and I don’t even know him. But I know you…” Then I added, “What’s his name? I doubt it’s actually Monster, although that would be a pretty cool name…” Harrison laughed.

  “Yeah, it’s Ben. But he’ll always be The Monster to me…”

  “And I’m sure you expect him to thank you for that nickname…later,” I said with a laugh as I turned back to figure out if I could salvage my most recent mess-up, before Harrison noticed and insisted on repainting it…again.

  FORTY-TWO

  Harrison and I were almost done with the room, but it had been taking longer since he could only come when he wasn’t working. It was fine though, I ended up just crashing every night in our guest room, finding the fumes and half-mess of a room less than ideal for sleeping. I needed calm and I needed relaxation in order to get to sleep every night, so leaving the chaos of my room was sort of a necessity. But Harrison’s help was invaluable, so I didn’t mind the fact that it probably took twice as long because of his scheduling limitations.

  And I got to just hang out and laugh and have fun while we worked, which made it even better. I honestly had not understood the scope of what I was attempting, and without his help, I’d have either given up halfway or ended up with the world’s worst finger-paint masterpiece.

  “So how’s Courtney?” I asked, mostly because I found Harrison’s descriptions of dealing with her to be hilarious, and because it annoyed him at the same time.

  “Funny. I guess she and Jorge are in love,” he said, before cackling. We were rolling paint on opposite walls, so he wasn’t looking at me when he answered, but I could picture the expression of mockery on his face anyway.

  “I guess you dodged that bullet.”

  “No shit. Like I’ve said before, and will probably say again…maybe a million times, Women are crazy,” he said as he continued his painting, his application far superior to mine, but that was why I was working on the wall that the bed would eventually be pushed back in front of. I had quickly discovered that Harrison was pretty skilled at it, so I made him do all of the stuff that might actually be visible, while I tackled the areas that could be easily hidden. He was also nice enough to act like he didn’t noticed that my dominant arm wasn’t quite as functional as I tried to make people believe…or he just thought that I was lazy, or untrained, and that my less than extended and not-so-fluid rolls were the work of a novice. I actually hoped for the latter. I’d even settle for lazy.

  “Thanks,” I said, although I knew he w
asn’t directing that statement at me. To Harrison, there were girls or women, and then there was me. I just didn’t seem to fall into the same category as the female population that he talked about. I knew that he joked that I was in a category of my own, or that I was out of his league, but I honestly just thought it had to do with our friendship and how he didn’t view me in that way.

  “Whatever, Cass. It’s the truth.” He glanced over his shoulder at me and gave me a solemn look, which only cracked me up.

  “Well, I’d say you need to up your game, but if Courtney is any indication of the kind of chicks that you go for, I doubt it’s necessary.”

  Harrison snorted.

  “Yeah, I think Courtney may have been an all-time low, even for me. But it’s cool. My mom loves me so that’s all that matters.” We were back to essentially talking to the walls as we held our back and forth, but it didn’t feel weird. What also didn’t feel weird was that half the time we were working, we weren’t even talking. We’d just sort of hang out in silence, but it was totally comfortable and not awkward.

  “You’re the best guy not to talk to, Harrison,” I once said, after a period of this easy silence.

  “Yeah, I’ve heard that before,” he said and I couldn’t help but laugh. I didn’t think I’d laughed as much as I had painting my room with Harrison, as I had in the past few years combined. It felt good.

  When we were finally done, having recruited James again to help move all of the furniture back, I felt a little sad. Harrison and I stood admiring our work, and it actually looked really good. The windows were wide open to dissipate the smell, and the light breeze felt so nice.

  “Well, thanks, again. I apparently actually needed your help,” I admitted. I could have done it, I was sure, but it might have taken all summer.

  “No worries, Cass. It looks good. You picked good colors.” I didn’t point out that he’d sort of done that part too. Harrison was nice enough to have ‘forgotten’ that. “Ok, I gotta bounce. My mom needs me to pick up some dinner for her and The Monster. But this was probably the easiest job I’ve ever done, although the pay sucked,” he added with a quiet laugh as he nudged my shoulder with his.

  Laughing, I turned to face him, taking in his paint splattered white tee and jeans, his ever-messy dark hair, and the laughter that still lingered in his expression. Then I did something that would have shocked Diane and sent Rachel into a coma. I hugged Harrison. It was quick and probably super awkward, but he patted my back gently before I pulled back and met his eye.

  “Seriously, though, thanks Harrison. I don’t have a lot of people in my life so this meant a lot,” I admitted, wondering why I’d exposed that truth to him but not necessarily regretting it. Harrison just made me feel comfortable.

  “Yeah, I doubt that. It would have just been Charlie here with a jaunty little painter’s hat,” he cracked.

  “Hey, I didn’t know that I could wear a cute hat! It would have really tied this amazing ensemble together,” I said, looking mournfully down at my ratty old tee and sweats.

  “Only you could make something like you’re wearing look good, Cass. But seriously, no problem. I’ll catch you later,” Harrison said and I was still standing in the middle of my room as I watched him hurry out.

  Turing back to our work, I felt proud of myself. We had done a good job, but mostly I was proud that I’d accomplished a project that had been my idea, and I’d had a friend who had volunteered to make it happen. The fact that I’d hugged him, felt both wrong and right, but I figured that was a normal response for me. And the weirdest part was that it hadn’t felt as wrong as I would have thought. There was just something about Harrison that made me feel safe, and I was so glad that I’d met him.

  Leaving my room, I went downstairs and corralled my three roommates, demanding that they come up and see what we’d accomplished. Finally getting them to my room, an invitation that I hoped that they appreciated because it was as rare as my hugging someone, my mom and Kara were actually impressed.

  “Wow, Cass. It looks so pretty!” Kara spoke up first, not surprisingly, as James just hung back, already having seen the room.

  “Beautiful, honey. I’m really proud of you,” my mom said, and I could have sworn that her blue eyes looked a little moist.

  “Yeah, when are you going to do my room?” Kara asked, and I honestly thought she was fairly serious. In your dreams, Kara.

  “Right. Never going to happen, Kar,” I said, rolling my eyes.

  “Fine, but you did a really nice job. I love the colors!” She added, thankfully having moved on from her dream of slave labor.

  “Yeah, Harrison helped me, but thanks, guys. I really like it.”

  In the time that we’d been working, we’d mostly avoided my family. One morning I’d met Harrison at the door and my mom had ‘happened’ through the living room at that moment, but thankfully it had been a quick introduction and Harrison hadn’t seemed bothered. My mom was probably given a month’s worth therapy fodder simply based on the five minute meeting, but whatever.

  “It was very nice of him to help you,” my mom replied, keeping her statement short and her tone measured. I was so used to her approach when talking to me that I kind of didn’t even notice anymore. “I think you need new bedding. I’m going to get you some complimentary stuff, as a gift for accomplishing this. I’ll run my choices by you first, of course,” she added, knowing that something as simple as being in control of the color of my comforter was important to me.

  “Thanks Mom, that would be great.” I smiled, liking the idea of a new room to match my beginning of a new life better and better.

  FORTY-THREE

  That night, I finally remembered that Charlie had left me a voicemail. Well, actually, I hadn’t, but he’d called again. This time I didn’t actively screen, I was just away from my phone and found the missed call when I finally checked it. Realizing that I probably should have listened to his first one, in case he’d actually needed something, which his second call sort of implied, I sat on my bed and pulled up my voicemails. Yes, voicemails, he’d left a second one.

  “Hey Cassandra. Just been thinking about you, and hopefully maybe once in a while I’ve crossed your mind. Anyway, just wanted to see how you were doing and what you were up to…maybe you’ve decided to give us a chance?” He chuckled. “Ok, call me back. I’ll be seeing you…”

  Ok. Pretty casual message, although I had not in fact decided to go out with him. Actually, I’d barely thought of Charlie because I had been so focused on the revamp of my room. Probably the only time he’d entered my consciousness was when Harrison had teased me about him, although I hadn’t failed to notice that it was less about teasing me and more about making fun of Charlie. I smiled when I thought of it.

  The second voicemail then autoplayed and I forgot about the joking around with Harrison.

  “Cassandra. I wish you had a voicemail set up instead of the default…it would be nice to hear your voice. Just checking in, since I didn’t hear back from you. I thought we might be able to go out, just to reconnect a little…I miss you,” Charlie laughed self-deprecatingly, but even that was confident sounding. I marveled at how that was possible. “I’m aware that you’re seeing someone, which is disappointing, but it’s actually more disappointing that you lied to me about it. Hopefully your mind isn’t too made up and you’re open to a little healthy competition. Call me and maybe we can just grab a coffee or something. I’ll be seeing you, Cassandra.”

  I just stared at the phone in my hand, long after the message center had disconnected, apparently dissatisfied that I wouldn’t save, replay, or delete my messages. What? I thought I had been clear that I wasn’t interested in Charlie and seeing where things could go. But it was actually the second half of the message that left me the most unsettled. I wasn’t seeing someone, and even if I were, it wasn’t Charlie’s concern. And I had most certainly not lied to him about anything. His tone had never changed throughout the message, still the same old Ch
arlie with his self-assurance and easy language, but the context was off.

  And I didn’t like it. I was getting more and more staid in my belief that Charlie was not the right person for me. But how did I go forward from here? Probably not returning his call was the most clear approach, but it was also a little like I was hiding from him, and it bothered me that he’d accused me of lying. Also, how could he become aware of something that didn’t exist? I hadn’t been closed off to a friendship with Charlie, although I had gotten the sense that he would be dissatisfied with only that, but I didn't think I was open to even that, anymore. At the same time, I didn’t want to just ignore him, that felt like less of a healthy approach. I’d been conditioned to talk out my problems, to clarify misconceptions and find a rational resolution, but I didn’t particularly want to talk to him.

  Not sure what to do, I continued to just sit here. I could call him back, I figured, but to what end? Maybe just to get my point across that I wasn’t interested? It was the right thing to do, and it was in keeping with my new approach to life. Fresh changes to empower me, taking little steps toward the greater goal of moving on with my life.

  Because that was the reality. I no longer wanted to be stagnant, no longer wished to be mired in the all consuming focus of recovery. I realized that I would forever be “in recovery,” that there was no final completeness which I would eventually achieve. But I wanted as full of a life as I could cultivate for myself. I was taking tiny steps forward, most likely my giant leaps being unremarkable to most people, but I was doing it and it felt right.

  I had fought for this life of mine, I had made my choice to exchange something holy for something that I prized at a greater value. So, to not then appreciate what I had painfully won, to not at least try to make something of my triumph, felt like a betrayal to myself. I had bargained, and what I'd lost was so great, I couldn’t squander what I had ultimately given up so much for.