“Ha! Funny. I was thinking the same thing. I guess the point is, it’s a bitter pill to swallow when you realise you’ve become the thing you hated most. I still don’t have a good relationship with either of my parents because of it. Counselling is something I know I’ll benefit from. I just need to stop being so pigheaded about it and do it.” I didn’t tell him anything further—that I know this is why I haven’t been able to get close to anyone for fear we will head down the same tumultuous path. Another sad truth about my relationship with Harrison. He’s the closest thing I’ve had to a boyfriend, including the few dates I went on with Kit. There was a time when I thought Kit was using me to get him connected with Harrison, he was asking me so many questions about him.
Blinking to stop any more tears from overflowing, I pull over for safety’s sake and realise Harrison is still holding my hand. “I’m okay now.”
“I’m not,” he says quietly while giving my hand another squeeze as the Bluetooth in my phone starts to ring.
“Hello?”
“Just checking where you both are?” Clara’s voice sounds through the car speakers.
My fingers relax, but Harrison holds on for a few more seconds before letting go.
“We’re here,” he says with his gaze trained on me. “We are just coming along the road now.”
She says she’ll see us soon before hanging up, and I pull the car back out onto the road. I turn my head towards Harrison. He’s sitting, looking down at his hands in his lap.
“You okay?” I ask. “You said you weren’t before.”
I get a small nod in response as we continue on our way. Within two minutes, our cabin comes into view. Coming to a stop and as he gets out of the car, I hear Harrison say so softly that only he should have heard it, “I’m going to Hell.”
By the time we get started, I’ve yawned and I’m within the witching hour of my bedtime. With the tablet set up so Clara can see us both on the sofa, Clara’s background is a stark white. Her pen hasn’t stopped the whole time Harrison talks about how it’s been so different to work with me. His left ankle rests on his knee away from me, and his hand is less than an inch away from mine on the seat. He looks brighter, he’s sounding positive, and even throws in a few kind things about me. He’s the Harrison I’ve seen with others and always wanted to be like with me.
“So how did you find last night’s homework? Harrison, what were Riley’s ten things she liked about you?”
Keeping my gaze on Clara, I see Harrison turn his head slowly in my direction. I dart my eyes to his and see that smug grin on his face. I know that that wasn’t what we discussed; he has ample opportunity to throw me under the bus.
“Well, she didn’t stop at ten. She said she liked my eyes, my smile. She likes how I push her to be a better actor.” He rattles off at least fifteen things, all while staring at me.
It feels like he’s daring me to speak up and call him a liar.
“Wow, sounds like you had a great night. And Riley. What were Harrison’s ten things?”
Never stepping back from a challenge, I hold out my fingers to count down the ten things off the top of my head.
“I like his honesty. He’s come forward and told me about all the horrible things he’s done to me in the past,” I say just as Clara’s face changes and Harrison pulls his stare from mine to meet hers.
They are having a silent conversation that I’m not privy to, and I know instantly that Harrison hasn’t been completely honest with me. The sound of Harrison clearing his throat brings my gaze back to him. His foot lowers, and he leans forward to bring his elbows to his knees and covers his face with his hands.
“Do you two need a minute?” I ask.
Clara looks back to me and shakes her head. “No. I’m just surprised. You were meant to only talk about what you like, not have an honest sit-down. I was thinking that would be better to have someone with you when you did that, but since you’ve brought it up, I’m happy to talk more about it now, and I must say, Riley, you are handling this news very—”
“Yeah. We can talk about it another time. So what’s tonight’s homework? What are we going to have for dinner?” Harrison asks.
I might not have been included in their silent conversation, but I didn’t miss the narrowing of Clara’s eyes at Harrison, either, at the abrupt change of topic.
I say, “Leftovers,” as Clara says, “Trust and honesty.”
Harrison sounds like he’s coughing and choking at the same time. “Great. Great topic.”
“Should I give you some starters?” Clara asks.
Harrison shakes his head but says, “Sure.”
Clara rattles off a list of things that we should be honest and truthful about. “I want you to listen to why they are saying what they are saying. It might be hurtful to hear it, but now that you’ve progressed to being able to speak without being insulting, why don’t you give it a try while I’m here?”
Still not sure of what’s going on between them, I’m the first to speak up.
“Okay. I’ve shared a couple of things with you, Harrison, that no one else knows about. I hope that shows that I have trust in you. Since this is meant to be about honesty, I also want to tell you that when we first started working together, remember your dressing room had a certain aroma to it?”
For the second time on the sofa, Harrison turns slowly to look at me before twisting his whole body towards me. “I do. That delightful stench that only left after the walls were replaced?”
“It wasn’t the walls. It was the curtain rods. Crammed with seafood carcass and other delightful things I managed to get my hands on. I didn’t want you to have a room next to me.” Seeing Clara make notes again, I quickly add, “I am sorry. I know it was you who blocked the drains in my bathroom.”
“Yes. It was me. I wanted your dressing room next to mine.” He turns back to Clara to explain. “We were at separate ends of the building, and I thought by forcing her out of there, she’d be moved closer to me.”
“And why was that?” Clara looks to me as I ask the question.
Harrison glances at me and then back to Clara. “What she said.”
Leaning back in his seat, he shrugs to dismiss his answer. “I was hoping to wear you down with my charms and wit. Instead, she sabotaged my room, and we ended up at opposite ends of where we started. Must have taken you a while.”
“I built it up over time. That was when you had more scenes than me.”
He starts to laugh, and I feel a bit better knowing that he can see the funnier side of things.
“Well done for the share, Riley. It’s your turn now, Harrison.”
He quickly glances up at me before looking back at his hands and letting out a sigh. “So, you said before that you wanted to know how the paparazzi seemed to know where you were at all times? I might have been the one feeding them your exact location.”
My hand stings as I strike it against his leg, causing him to cry out. “You fucker! They put a picture of me that looked like I pissed my pants on the cover of a magazine!”
Harrison moves his legs as I bring my hand down again.
“Fish guts in a curtain rod is a little amateur compared to getting professional stalkers after you,” I say.
“I’m sorry. I told you in the car I was sorry for everything that I’ve done and that you won’t ever find out about.”
“What won’t I ever find out about?” The room falls silent, so I press him again. “What else have you done?”
“I told you I’m sorry. Can that just cover it? We are getting along so well. Are we just about done?”
“No, we are not just about done. Tell me what else you’ve done.”
He stays silent.
“Tell me,” I whisper.
He blows out a breath so his lips quiver, and I brace myself for what he’s going to tell me.
“Where do I start?” He holds up his fingers and admits to sabotaging takes, which was not a revelation to me. He admits to sending eve
ryone on set flowers so I’d be the only one who didn’t get any. He finally admitted to changing the call sheet so I’d turn up to set fifteen minutes late and Allan would come screaming for me. The one that stung, though, was when he spoke to his friend who was associated with a play I’d auditioned for and was told by the director I had the part in the bag. “That one. That one I’m sorry for, but I’m not sorry because it’s brought us to this place. A chance to get past everything, and I don’t think that would have happened had we’d stayed.”
Sitting silently, I let it all sink in. Turns out the director was later charged with indecent assault and the play never eventuated. “It’s done now. Hindsight’s a beautiful thing. I feel a bit inept. You were always one step ahead of me.”
His eyes plead with me, and his voice is pained. “I can’t say it anymore.”
Giving him a nod, Clara asks if I’m all right. Thankfully when I tell her I am, she says the session is up. I’m not happy with what he’s done, but inch by inch, truth by truth, we are getting closer to a true truce.
“Okay, well, that was really good. Have an easy night. Don’t get too bogged down. I’m on call if either of you needs me,” Clara says.
We say our goodbyes, and the call disconnects.
“I’ll start making dinner. Leftovers not too lowbrow for your tastes, I hope?”
“Do you mind if I have the first shower?” Harrison asks without making eye contact.
I’ve managed to prepare dinner, waited fifteen minutes for Harrison to reappear, gave up on waiting for him, and ate mine then covered Harrison’s to put back in the fridge. The shower stopped half an hour ago, and he still hasn’t reappeared. I knock gently on the door, and Harrison pulls it open so abruptly, my loose hair covers my eyes.
“I need a minute,” is all he says as he shuts the door in my face.
There’s a side of Harrison I haven’t seen in a few days. The rude Harrison.
For the first time since we’ve been here, he’s managed to make it feel like old times.
Fourteen
Harrison
The instant I pick up the phone, I can hear her crying but I bluff my opening.
“Slow down, Amy,” I whisper-yell into the phone and hope Riley didn’t hear me as I rise from my seat and head towards the beach. We’re surrounded by trees with no one around us for miles. “I can’t hear what you’re saying.”
She’s crying so hard that I take over asking questions. “Are you hurt?”
“No.”
“Are your parents okay? Did the doctor give you some results?” to which the answers were all no. “Well, Amy, you need to hand the phone over or stop crying because I can’t understand what’s going on and you’re freaking me out.”
Thankfully, she hands the phone over to one of the nurses who tells me that Jackson, the little boy with an amazing smile who loved to draw with every colour in the box has died. He was only three and developed a complication.
My eyes well as the nurse’s voice starts to shake.
“Everyone’s taken it really hard. Amy’s taken it super hard. She wanted to hear a reassuring voice.”
It takes a minute for me to find my own voice. “Please, tell the family that the funeral will be taken care of.” It’s not in their job description, but the nurses know I have an arrangement with one of the funeral homes to take care of what’s needed to alleviate the final insult of their child’s illness. “And how are you nurses doing?”
It’s obviously the wrong question to ask because her stanch façade crumbles, and she breaks. I’ve sat in on sessions where nurses talk about how they take their patients’ care personally, and the hardest thing for them to deal with is the loss. They are fighting against the unobtainable. One of my favourite nurses says when she signs off for the day, she gives the Reaper the finger. “Not today, I tell him. Some days, he gives me the finger back.”
“You stay strong. The Reaper won this round. He’s not in pain anymore.” I struggle to keep my composure as I think about how my brother was nearly taken and how easy it would be for it to be any one of those kids in those beds. I tilt my head back, and the tears roll down my face. “I’m thinking of you all, and do you want me to talk to Amy again?”
“Amy, honey. Harry wants to talk to you,” I hear her say while the phone makes muffled noises followed by a soft knock at the door.
Lowering the phone and holding it behind my back, I don’t want Riley to see me vulnerable like this. I’m close to the edge of losing it, and that is something I don’t want her to see. I might be opening up about my life and changing my ways, but sharing things with her that are so close to my heart is going to take time. I use my palm to dry my face while I draw in a deep breath, school myself, and pull the door open a little too hard. Meeting Riley’s blue eyes, I hear Amy call out to me. The sound of her pained voice is too much to bear when I’m so close to losing it myself.
“I need a minute,” is all I can rush out to Riley.
Her face falls as I shut the door, and I know that’s going to cost me. We’ve been skirting the surface of our issues, but neither of us is ready to put our hearts out there for the other to feast on and use as a soccer ball.
I lift the phone to my ear, and the loud sniffle indicates Amy has the phone.
“It’s just so unfair,” she manages to say.
Using the back of my hand to wipe away my tears, I nod. “It is.”
“Remember what I said before. The promise you made?”
I tell her that I remember.
“I take it back,” she says. “Life’s too short for regrets. Go to her. Tell her how you feel now. Right now. She’ll do what she does with that information. She’d be a fool not to love you back.”
I bark out a laugh.
“What’s so funny?” she asks.
I feel bad for sharing what Riley said this morning but I’d do anything to help ease Amy’s hurt over little Jackson. “Well, you know I have to see the therapist here? I overheard them, and Riley admitted that she loves me.”
If it weren’t for her breathing, I would have thought the line had dropped out.
“And you haven’t told her that you loved her back? Are you insane? Why didn’t you tell me this before?”
“Because you told me not to do anything stupid.”
“I did not say those words,” she says sternly. “You not taking this chance is stupid. You could never be stupid.”
Oh, Amy, if only you knew the stupid things I have done.
“Go to her. Tell her how you feel. Then you’ll know if you want to progress. That promise is still in place given the new information.”
I turn the talk back to her to make sure she’s okay, and she assures me she is. “He was doing fine. He looked really good. The next thing, he’s had a cough. Now anytime someone coughs in their bed, I’m thinking ‘Are they next?’ Just makes me wanna pack up and leave this place.”
“That place is keeping you well, and it’s only for a little time longer,” I try to placate.
“Didn’t keep Jackson well.”
Letting out a sigh, I don’t know what to tell her. “So this is why every day is a gift. We can’t spend it being down. Shitty things—”
“That’s twenty in the swear jar.”
“Run me a tab. Crappy things happen all the time to really good people. So, do me a favour. Use that card I gave you to make the night of those nurses. Get them something nice delivered.”
Amy has one of my credit cards with a five-hundred-dollar limit to use whenever something like this has happened. Balloons, cupcakes, a masseuse to give ten-minute massages, anything to let them know I’m thinking of them and to thank them for their work. It’s a job I know I couldn’t do.
“I will. Now go talk to your girl. And really talk. Tell her,” she says. “Promise me.”
“That’s two promises in one day.”
“Promise me both of them.”
Hanging up the phone after telling her I will, I step out
of my room and look for Riley. I see the plates are cleared, the kitchen has been tidied, and there’s a simple note of ‘Goodnight’. I fold the paper over as I pick it up in my hands. The deck of cards has been cut with a two overturned. I pick up the other half and let them fall gently from my fingers as I tell myself, if I get a higher number, I’ll wake Riley to talk to her. The cards flitter on top of each other until I stop and turn it over and show a three.
Time to face my fate, apologise, and prepare for my heart to be trampled.
With her bedroom door closed and no light shining from underneath, I walk to my room and pull my shirt over my head. My phone beeps with a message from Amy telling me she decided on balloons. They made Jackson happy. I want them to remember him happy. I open my curtains to the moonlight then make my way to the bathroom. I stop short of Riley’s bathroom door and knock gently.
“Riley?” I ask as I open the door carefully. “Riley.”
“What’s wrong?” she asks tersely.
I know my closing the door in her face was rude and I take the hit. Pushing the door open farther, I see she’s done the same with her curtains, and I also see her form lying on the bed. “I just wanted to apologise for dinner being interrupted and the way I said I needed to take a minute. It was Amy.”
“Well, you should always answer the phone to your girlfriend.”
Girlfriend? Amy’s never been thought of in any other way other than my kid sister. “That was Amy.”
“I really don’t need to know the names of all your booty calls, Harrison.”
Her tone flames my irritation as we fall into our pattern of sparring each other’s words. “Amy is not a booty call. She’s a sixteen-year-old girl—”
“Jesus, Harrison! She’s sixteen? Hang on. That woman at the club was not sixteen, was she?”
Within the shadows, I see her sit up while I step into her room and stop at the end of her bed to cut her off before she can make a fool of herself and we deteriorate into a slanging match. “That woman from the nightclub, I have no idea how old she is.” When I tell her I can’t even remember that woman’s name, she scoffs. “Amy’s sixteen and my friend from the Royal Children’s unit. She’s a patient there and the reason why I have to leave work by six every night. I spend my weekends there making the kids feel better about the fucking shit hand they’ve been dealt. It’s my tiny way of making sure they have a little brightness in their otherwise dull and procedure-filled day.” I tell her about how I spent my time in the hospital with my brother and how I made it my goal to be the clown, to distract their day.
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