Something About Harry(83)
Harry was lost in his thoughts on the couch, staring off into the roar of the fire he’d built.
But they had to talk before . . .
Wiping off the last remnants of a very messy dinner made up of cheeseburgers and Tater Tots from the counter, Mara poured him a mug of coffee and took a deep breath before making her way to the couch to join him.
He smiled up at her distractedly when she offered him the steaming mug. “Thanks.”
Pulling a throw from the back of her couch, she settled in, crossing her legs beneath it. “Penny for them?”
He shook his head, his eyes distant. “I didn’t think I’d miss them this much.”
“They’re amazing kids. I had a great time with them today. Who knew Arch was such an ace snowman maker?”
His smile, when it happened lately, changed the landscape of his face, taking it from hard and cold to boyishly sweet. “They had a great time, too. It was probably the happiest I’ve seen them since . . .”
“Donna died.” No holds barred, time to get it out in the open while she still had the chance.
He nodded his dark head, cupping the mug with a firmer grip. “I guess I got so caught up in Donna’s death, and I was so overwhelmed by all the little details of running a household with two active kids, I forgot to enjoy them the way I used to when I was just plain old Uncle Harry. We used to have some really fun times. Lately, I’ve been nothing but an internal wreck or a badger about bedtimes and structure.”
The struggle Harry fought so hard to hide made him so much more endearing. Each second she spent with him, every word he spoke about the children, left her wanting to peel back yet another layer of his personality.
But they didn’t have time to indulge in anything other than the facts. “You were just trying to do the right thing. Get them settled. Your whole life was turned upside down, too, you know. Single man suddenly raising two children who are so young. Be fair to yourself in the assessment process.”
“I want to do right by Donna. I need to.”
“You will. You are. You’re adjusting. But do me a favor?”
“Name it.”
“Let Mimi talk about how much she misses Donna. Fletcher, too. Speaking as a kid who lost her parents, distraction so you don’t have to face your own pain isn’t the answer.” And it bred all sorts of coping mechanisms like avoidance, solitude, and most importantly, a voice unheard.
Harry scowled, making his “Nina” face. “Fear breeds confusion, misunderstanding, and eventually gives you fucking kids who act like they’re entitled to shit in gold toilets while they text their friends on their fancy iPhones they don’t deserve and didn’t goddamn well earn.”
Mara laughed and nodded, letting her cheek rest on the cushioned back of the couch. “In the words of Countess Dracula, yes.” Reaching out, she grabbed his hand in impulse, forgetting everything but her mission. “Don’t let that be a part of what keeps them from sharing with you, the fear they’ll upset you. I know they see a therapist, and that’s healthy, but the therapist isn’t you. She didn’t love Donna and her husband like you did.”
Harry looked away from her and out the window, his fingers twitching beneath hers. “I’m shitty at sharing my feelings.”
She snorted. “Oh, please. How quickly we forget. You’ve been very share-ish about your reluctance to be one of us. You sure didn’t hold back when you were reminding me about how you were going to find a way out of this.”
“Dig, dig, dig,” he teased, leaning closer to her.
“Hide, hide, hide,” she reminded him, staying the course of her mission.
His throat worked, the strong column of muscle beneath his sweater, tensing. “Losing Donna was even worse than when I lost my parents. All we had was each other.”
No excuses. No compromises. She couldn’t explain why, but she needed to know he’d nurture Mimi and Fletcher’s desire to remember their parents, encourage them to share the good and bad. “Too bad. The kids shouldn’t have to hide their anguish, Harry. It’s part of the reason they’re acting out. For someone so smart, you’re a little dense. Just promise me this, and I only ask you because Keegan and Sloan did the same thing to me that you’re doing to the kids. They diverted, they coaxed, they gave me things. Lots and lots of things. They never talked to me. But nothing makes up for losing your parents, Harry. Not a bike or a dog or the best prom dress money can buy. What helps is expressing it. Don’t ever give up. Because you can’t throw your hands up in the air and pretend like you don’t know what’s wrong when they act out and you’re part of the explanation. No more excuses.” More tears had begun to form in her eyes at her own personal memories.