Harp's Song

by Shine, Cassie

  “So, what, instead you decided to make me miserable just like you? To treat me like a worthless kid you had to tolerate? Do you know how many times you told me I ruined your life?” I can’t stop the venom flowing from my mouth. I look at her with such anger and hate waiting for her to answer me.

  “Yes.”

  I don’t know what to do with that answer. I thought for sure she would feed me some line of bullshit, but no, she told the truth—the simple, hard truth.

  “So, misery loves company? Is that it?”

  “Sadly, yes. You have to hear me when I tell you how sorry I am for doing that to you. I cringe thinking about the things I’ve said to you and the things I’ve done. I’m not proud of the way I’ve behaved. I don’t even know how you can stand to call me mom. In no way, except providing basic necessities, have I been a mother to you,” she says crying again. “Harp, I’m so sorry … you were an innocent in this whole thing and I love you.”

  Neither one of us speaks. I look out the window and marvel at the pink and purple hues invading the sky. It reminds me of how much I loved the color pink when I was a little girl. I think of a time in my life before things became complicated, before I realized my mom wasn’t like other moms. A time when I didn’t isolate myself from everyone around me. I acknowledge now that that was a survival technique—a way for me to preserve myself from getting hurt by anyone else. As long as the only one doing the hurting was my mom, I could handle everything else that came my way.

  Once it’s dark outside and I have absorbed as much of what she’s telling me as I can. I look at her. She’s looking right at me and I take a moment to trace her features with my eyes, since I rarely get a chance to look at her like this. She’s so strikingly beautiful it makes me sad to see what’s become of her. The wear and tear from years of stress and loneliness are evident around her eyes, but all things considered she’s still gorgeous. I’m glad she’s gotten help and is continuing to get help, but I don’t know what she wants from me after hearing all this, so I break the silence first.

  “What do you want from me? Why tell me all this now?”

  She smiles, “I want to fix me and I want to fix us. Telling you this was the only way I thought we could move forward. I know you would have been skeptical if I had suddenly changed without explaining all this to you. But, I also know it’s going to be hard for you to trust me. I am willing to do whatever it takes to form a healthy, loving relationship with you. I can’t erase what I’ve done, but I’m hoping you’ll be part of the future with me.”

  “I need some time away from you to think about everything you’ve told me today,” I tell her. ”I need to figure out where I fit into all of this. What you’ve told me today isn’t just about you or our relationship; it’s also about me and who I am. I am not the same person I thought I was this morning.”

  “Harp, that’s not true. You are the same wonderful, beautiful, talented person …”

  “Stop, mom. It’s how I feel ok? You can’t change how I feel. I’m going to call Connor and have him pick me up. I’ll stay with him for a little while until I’ve figured this out.”

  “I understand, but honey, can you at least tell me if there’s hope for us?”

  I sigh because I really don’t know what to tell her. I’m so used to telling her whatever she wants to hear that I think about slipping into autopilot and doing just that, but instead I look at her, “I don’t know mom. I hope there is, but I need time. Keep seeing your therapist, ok?”

  “Ok …” she says before diverting her face to wipe away a few tears.

  I leave her in the kitchen and call Connor to pick me up as soon as possible. Before I’ve gotten all my things into my bag, he’s at the front door. I hear my mom speaking to him followed by footsteps in the hallway heading toward my room. This the first time he’s ever been in my house. I was always too embarrassed to have him over in case my mom was a mess. Seeing him here, in my room, is … funny. He’s so tall his head almost hits the low ceiling and he looks foreign surrounded by pink walls.

  “So, this is where you dream about me?” he says smirking.

  “Oh brother,” I say rolling my eyes, “It’s a wonder you were able to fit that head of yours in the door Mr. Ego.”

  He hops on my bed, “Hey now, that’s not a very nice thing to say to your knight in shining armor, is it now?”

  I cringe because that’s exactly what he is. I can’t count the number of times he’s saved me from my mom. Part of me wonders if that’s why we are together. He wants to save me and I need to be saved. I’m pretty sure that’s not what a healthy relationship should be about, but I can’t deal with that right now. Nope, right now I need to get out of here for a little bit and clear my head.

  “Earth to Harp … hellooooo!” I hear Connor say and I snap my head up to him.

  “What? Did you say something?”

  “Um, yeah, I was talking to you before I realized you were totally spacing out.”

  “Oh, so what were you saying?”

  “Nothing, it can wait. You about done packing?”

  “Yeah, I’m just going to grab some stuff from the bathroom first.” I say opening my bedroom door. I find my mom standing in the hall waiting for me.

  “Harp, I understand what you are doing, but please … please don’t give up on me. I love you,” she says before shutting herself in her room.

  “I’m ready,” I tell Connor when I get back to my room. He jumps off my bed and carries my bag and cello outside while I follow behind him. Once we’re in his truck, I don’t look back. I just want to be with him and think about all this later. Unfortunately, when we climb into the truck, he turns to me expectantly.

  “Are you going to tell me why I just rescued you?” he asks me.

  I shrug my shoulders, “No. I just need some space.”

  He sighs and drives us to his house. I know I’ll have to tell him eventually, and I will. But right now, I need some perspective and time away from my mom will help me get that.

  It’s been a week since I moved in with Connor’s family. Catherine set me up in the spare guest room across the hall from Connor’s room. Even though we promised her we would obey her rules, Connor has snuck in to my room a couple of times after everyone’s gone to bed. I’m not complaining … I just don’t want his mom to catch us.

  Both times he’s come in, I’ve been asleep only to be woken up by him kissing my neck and shoulder, and his hands roaming over my body. I’m not complaining about that either, but both times we’ve been almost naked and very close to having sex before one of us stops. As much as I love making out with Connor, I just can’t do that in his house with his parents a few doors away.

  He still hasn’t pressed me to talk about why I’m staying here, and I’m grateful because I’m not ready to explain it to him. I’ve only spoken to my mom once, mainly because she actually called to wish me a happy birthday.

  I’ve never been big on celebrating my birthday, and until I met Connor, the day went by unnoticed. However, this year, Connor and his family took me out to dinner to celebrate. Afterward, he and I met up with Ethan and Emma for a night of bowling. Despite that being my first time, I wasn’t half bad. It was a great way to celebrate turning eighteen, something I had been looking forward to for a long, long time.

  Connor has a baseball game today and later tonight, we are going to Emma and Ethan’s house. The Sommers are having a big party at their house. Emma and Ethan’s mom told them they could invite a couple of friends so they weren’t bored. I had asked Emma why they had to go to the party at all, but she rolled her eyes and said her parents liked to show them off to their friends. Then she got all excited when Connor and I agreed to go. She demanded that we dress shop and get ready together.

  “Great game, babe!” I say giving Connor a kiss as he leaves the baseball field.

  “Thanks,” he says kissing me again.

  “Hey, you two, I don’t have a lot of time to waste. It’s already two o’clock, whi
ch means I really only have three hours of shopping. So, if you could please stop devouring each other with your mouths I would appreciate it.” Emma yells from behind the bleachers.

  I pull away from Connor and start laughing, “Sorry, but you heard my personal stylist … I’ve gotta go!”

  When he tries to grab me, I squeal and run to Emma before we get in her car and wave at Connor.

  After three hours of shopping with Emma and countless visits to fitting rooms to try on dresses, we are both happy with a particularly low cut, form fitting yet classy black dress for me. Emma finds a pair of nude peep-toe platform pumps that are way too high, but I let her talk me into getting them when she winks at me and says that Connor will love them. She also asks me why I’m staying with Connor, but I give her a generic answer about a fight with my mom and Catherine agreeing to let me stay there until I feel like I want to go back. She asks more questions, but I quickly divert her attention by pointing out a cute pair of shoes.

  When we get back to her house she expertly walks around the florist and delivery people bustling around the house. I follow her lead up to her room so we can get ready.

  After I get out of the shower and comb my hair, I start in on my makeup. But before I put it on, I look at my features, and realize how now they mean something different to me.

  After hearing everything my mom told me, I became curious about Alex and if we really do look alike. So, instead of practicing my cello, I took an afternoon off to do some research in the school library.

  I searched online for my mom’s sister since I didn’t have Alex’s last name. I thought if I could find anything about Ginny or an archive of their engagement or wedding announcement that would lead me straight to him. Thank God for Google, because it was a lot easier than I thought to find Ginny Evans Hamilton currently living in a suburb outside of Detroit. I clicked on a few more links before finding an article about a Children’s Hospital benefit attended by Mr. and Mrs. Alex Hamilton and a picture of them on a society page. I clicked on the picture to make it larger and saw an established couple in their early forties.

  He had his hand around her back and she was pressed closely to him clutching a glass of champagne. My mom was right; she and her sister look nothing alike. Ginny appeared to be tall and thin with blonde hair and blue eyes. Like Connor, her tan skin made the blue of her eyes deepen and pop, and I found myself drawn to her.

  I peeled my eyes from her to look at Alex. I traced his features and much to my dismay, there would be no denying our DNA. Not only did we have the same hair, mine holding more copper tones, but also the same facial structure, nose and coloring. The main difference is our eye color; his are green. But really, it would be obvious to anyone that we were father and daughter.

  Alex Hamilton had gone to and graduated law school from Northwestern, and shortly afterward moved back to Michigan to work at his father’s law firm: Hamilton, Watson and Goldberg. Other than that, I didn’t find any other information on him and really didn’t need anymore. I got what I wanted.

  It’s hard not to look at myself in disgust, especially now that I know whom I came from and how. Luckily, Emma enters the bathroom and breaks me from my thoughts.

  After I dry my hair, she curls it for me so it’s in long, loose curls down my back. Once my hair and makeup are done, I put the dress and shoes on and finish by adding the jewelry we bought today. I twirl for Emma and know I meet her approval when she rushes to hug me.

  “You look so beautiful,” she says squeezing me.

  I pick up my gold clutch and am about to open the door when someone knocks on it.

  I frown and look at Emma.

  “I wonder who that could be,” she says overdramatically rushing to the door. I roll my eyes at her poor acting.

  When she opens the door, I see Connor standing there with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

  “Wow, you look beautiful.” He says while his eyes roam over my body. I feel the heat of his look and blush.

  “Thank you, you look very handsome.” I say taking the flowers and returning the complement. The truth is, he looks hot. He’s wearing a black suit with a crisp, white dress shirt underneath and it’s open at the neck. There’s something about the starkness of his white shirt against his tanned, muscular skin that makes me tingle and deepens my blush.

  “Are you sure we should go to the party? I think we should stay right here and …” He pulls me into him and kisses me.

  “Um, hello … I’m standing right here,” Emma announces holding her hands out to her sides.

  I pull away from nervously giggling with embarrassment.

  He laughs, “Ok, let’s go meet up with Ethan, he’s downstairs already.”

  I turn to Emma and wave, “See you in a little bit.”

  She shakes her head and waves as she walks into her bathroom to finish getting ready.

  When we get downstairs, Connor steers me toward an empty table and we stand there surveying the patio and backyard. There is a bar on the patio as well as another one at the opposite end of the yard. Large food stations have been placed throughout the backyard, and in the center there is an enormous ice sculpture. All the tables are dressed in spectacular flower arrangements and there are twinkle lights strung back and forth softly illuminating the sitting area. People are starting to enter the party and since Connor and I don’t know anyone besides Emma and Ethan, we stand at a table and talk.

  “Are you excited about going to Florida again this summer?” he asks me.

  “I am.” I answer him hesitantly.

  “Well, that wasn’t a very enthusiastic answer.” He laughs.

  “I know, sorry. I really am excited, but I guess I kind of don’t want it to get here because then we leave for school a month later, and that makes me sad,” I tell him.

  “I know what you mean, but we will have the best summer ever, and I promise you we will talk every day when we go to school,” he says reassuringly.

  “Hey guys,” Ethan says walking over to us. He reaches over to give me a hug before joining us at our table. “Thanks for coming, these things are usually so boring.”

  “What’s the party for anyway?” I ask.

  “My Dad is the President of his law school alumni association this year so he’s hosting an alumni fundraising party for the school,” he explains.

  “Where did he go to school?” Connor asks.

  “Northwestern.”

  “Northwestern in Chicago?” I squeak.

  “Yeah,” Ethan confirms.

  Oh.My.God.

  Seriously I’m starting to freak out running through all the possibilities in my head.

  “How old is your dad?” I ask Ethan anxiously.

  “He’s forty-two, I think. Why?”

  “Oh nothing, some of the guys here look older than that so I was just curious,” I cover.

  “All alumni are invited to these things, not just people in his class,” he explains.

  When he and Connor start talking about baseball I do the math in my head and panic even more because while I don’t think that Ethan’s dad and Alex were in the same class, it doesn’t mean he couldn’t be here supporting his alma mater. I calm myself down by reminding myself that Alex lives in Michigan—there’s no way he would come to middle of nowhere-Iowa for this party. I’m pulled from my thoughts when Emma bounds over to our table.

  “Hey guys, thanks again for coming—now that you’re here, this will be way more fun than the usual boring parties my parents throw,” she says excitedly. “Harp, are you ok? You look a little pale.”

  Leave it to Emma to notice my freak out, but her enthusiasm is so contagious that I can’t help but smile back at her. We spend the rest of the night moving from table to table talking about the guests, laughing, gorging ourselves on the food and sneaking champagne. I do my best to push my anxiousness about possibly seeing Alex here to the back of my mind.

  Mr. and Mrs. Sommers come over to talk to us, mainly to steal Ethan and Emma away so they ca
n introduce them to some of the guests.

  Once they’re gone, I turn to Connor, “I need to use the restroom. I’ll meet you back here in a few minutes.” He nods and leans in to give me a kiss on my cheek before I make my way back to the house. I’ve only had one glass of champagne, but I can feel the fuzziness and warmth from it throughout my body. So I blame the champagne on my lack of awareness when I smack straight into someone’s hard chest.

  “Whoa there!” A man chuckles grabbing my shoulders to steady me.

  “Oh my God, I’m so sorry, I wasn’t paying attent …” I can’t finish the word because I’m looking directly at Alex Hamilton.

  You’ve got to be kidding me!

  I can’t believe he really is here, and that I freaking ran into him.

  This is unbelievable. Stuff like this only happens in movies, right? I had kept an eye out for him when we were outside, but after an hour or so of scanning faces and not seeing him, I was relieved when I figured he wasn’t here.

  This is not happening right now … is it? I shut my eyes and take a deep breath hoping that the alcohol is making me see things, and that when I open my eyes it won’t be him—it will be a different man. Unfortunately, when I open them and look at his face, it is still him.

  Shit.

  He gives me a puzzled look when he sees me open my eyes, “Are you ok? You’re really pale … did you hurt yourself, sweetheart?”

  Ugh. Sweetheart. I vehemently hate this word. I always thought it sounded condescending or degrading in some way, especially coming from an older man. I clear my head and step to the side.

  “Yeah, um, sorry about that,” I say turning to continue to the restroom.

  “I’m sorry, to bother you, but are you sure you’re ok? You seem really upset.”