An hour and a half later, Harrison found me at the back of the auditorium. He was holding a cluster of long-stemmed red roses, the color of which were identical to the blotchy, embarrassed shade of his face.
“I wanted to give you these,” he stammered, thrusting the flowers into my arms. His parents stood about fifteen feet away, allowing him to deliver his gift alone.
I took the roses and smelled them as he shifted a cursory look at Lucas. “Thank you, Harrison. These are beautiful. You made me so proud tonight—your vibrato was awesome.”
He grinned and tried not to, which gave him a sort of manic appearance. “It’s all ’cause of you, though.”
I shook my head. “You did the work, and put in the practice.”
He shifted from one foot to the other.
“You sounded great, man. I wish I could play an instrument,” Lucas said.
Harrison eyed him. “Thanks,” he mumbled, frowning. Even though my student was taller than me, he was lanky next to Lucas’s filled-out frame. “Did that hurt? On your lip?”
Lucas shrugged. “Not too much. I said a few choice four-letter words, though.”
Harrison smiled. “Cool.”
***
As we lay in the semi-dark hours later, we faced each other, sharing his pillow. I took a deep breath and prayed I wasn’t about to drive Lucas away again. I’d never felt more connected to anyone.
“What’d you think of Harrison?”
He studied me closely. “He seems like a good kid.”
I nodded. “He is.” I trailed my fingers along the side of his face, and he pulled me closer.
“What’s this about?” He smirked. “Are you leaving me for Harrison, Jacqueline?”
Watching his eyes, I asked, “If Harrison had been in that parking lot that night, instead of you, do you think he’d have wanted to help me?”
His eyes locked to mine. He didn’t respond.
“If someone had told him to watch out for me, do you think they would ever, ever blame him, if he’d not been able to stop what would have happened that night?”
He exhaled harshly. “I know what you’re trying to say—”
“No, Lucas. You’re hearing it, but you don’t know it. There’s no way your father actually expected that of you. There’s no way he even remembers saying that to you. He blames himself, and you blame yourself, but neither of you is to blame.”
His eyes filled and he swallowed heavily, his grip on me hard. “I’ll never forget how she sounded that night.” His voice was choked with tears. “How can I not blame myself?”
My tears spilled over onto the pillow between us. “Lucas, think about Harrison. See yourself for the boy you were, and quit blaming him for not stopping something a grown man might have been unable to stop. What have you told me, over and over? It wasn’t your fault. You need to talk to someone, and figure out how to forgive yourself for responsibility your mother never would have wanted you to accept. Will you try? Please?”
He brushed my tears from my face. “How did I find you?”
I shook my head. “Maybe I’m exactly where I should be after all.”