Steady as the Snow Falls(16)

"Five long years," he affirmed.

Beth held the blanket draped over her shoulders closer to her body,  warmth evading her as Harrison confessed words that had to cut his  throat as they were produced. "What have those five years been like?"

"Oh, you know, lollipops and sunbeams."

She trained her gaze on the coffee table, wondering how she would be if  it were her with the disease. Beth rubbed her chilled arms through the  blanket. She didn't think she would be handling it as well as Harrison.  He'd had time to adapt, but how did a person really adapt to that?

A caricature of a smile lifted half of his mouth when she raised her  eyes, and it was a taint against his pale skin. "The rumors have been  hard, the outward shunning has probably been the worst. My sexuality was  attacked, I was accused of using needles myself. After they found out,  people I'd known for years acted scared of me, or like they didn't know  me."

Memories shattered him as she watched, Beth a silent bystander to a tragedy.

"I could see contempt in their eyes, blame for something I did nothing  to contract. I resigned from playing football. I could have kept  playing, but I felt like a pariah. A drop of blood and it would have  been a threat to anyone in contact. I didn't want to make others uneasy,  and I didn't need to feel worse than I already did."

Harrison glanced up at her. "For a long time, I felt hopeless, like I  was always swimming toward something I knew I wouldn't reach, just as I  knew I would eventually drown."

It was easy to remain unaffected by death when it kept its distance.  Beth had never dealt with loss firsthand, not to this extent. Any family  members who were gone had been so before she could recall, or she'd  only distantly known. A person could feel sad about another's  misfortune, but it passed, because it wasn't their world that was  directly affected by loss.

But when a person was face to face with it, like Beth was, it was  impossible to stay apathetic. A whisper of death touched her life, told  her someone she knew could be taken at some too-early point, and it shot  her mind through with fear, and her heart with sorrow.

It didn't go away. It didn't heal.

It stayed, staring her in the face, watching her through Harrison's  eyes. She looked at Harrison's face and felt her chest tighten with the  thought that one day in the near future he might no longer be. Beth  blinked her eyes, but still they filled with tears, overflowing and  trickling down her cheeks.

Harrison leaned forward. "Why are you crying?"

"Because it makes me sad."

"Don't waste your sadness on me. There are far worse sorrows worthy of your tears."

"How can you say that?" she asked in a wobbly voice, brushing away warm tears to allow room for more.

"You're sad because you're just learning about it. It's all new to you."  He offered the hint of a smile. "I've had years to come to terms with  it. I'm not sad anymore."

"I didn't realize you could move past the sadness."

"I suppose I could have chosen to not, but what would that get me?  Nothing good. Sometimes I get sad, but I fight it. I've had a good life,  I can still have the rest of one, even as compromised as it may be."  Harrison looked at her. "I'm not scared to die, Beth. And I said all my  goodbyes years ago. I made my peace."         

     



 

"Now what? Now you just wait?"

He shrugged, showing her a side of himself that was softer, less harsh.  As if her tears had the power to release the true man from his black  tower of solitude. "I'm not waiting. I'm … convalescing."

"That means to recover."

"Yes." Harrison smiled faintly. "My body may be slowly breaking down, but my mind is flourishing."

"But I don't-I don't understand. You don't see anyone. You don't go  anywhere. You don't do anything. It's like you're living half a life.  You have this big house and it's filled with nothing. Why?"

Harrison leaned forward, his eyes on the floor. "I don't need things,  Beth. Things are just that-things. I have my thoughts, and my memories. I  have what I need."

"You also have family. Why aren't you with them? You don't seem happy."

Two pale eyebrows lifted along with his gaze. "Don't I? What you perceive with your eyes isn't always what's there."

He stood and approached the couch, sitting beside her but careful to  keep space between them. Beth turned her upper half to face him, her  lips parted in question. The tears, hot and damp, froze on her  cheeks-dried by the heat his proximity produced in her. Harrison moved  closer, his eyes stayed by hers.

Beth tensed, her fingers curling into the soft fabric of the blanket.  She didn't know what he intended to do, but her pulse quickened in  anticipation, not alarm. He leaned forward as if to kiss her, but angled  his mouth away at the last instant. Her chest lifted and lowered from  the might of her emotions.

He put his mouth near her ear, and his voice was a caress, deep and  thick with emotion. "Sometimes, Beth, you have to look with your mind."  Sitting back, Harrison tapped her head. "You have to look deeper than  what is shown on the surface." His eyes dropped. "You have to see with  your heart."

"Can I-" Beth reached out a shaking hand to him, knowing she shouldn't. Knowing he'd pull back. "Can I hug you?"

"Why?" The word was short, one syllable and yet chopped in two around his exhalation.

"I don't know. I just-I want to," she answered, letting her hand drop to  her lap. Her fingers longed to touch him, to give him comfort. Beth  wanted him to know she wasn't repulsed by him, that she didn't see him  as a monster. She wanted to let him know he wasn't alone.

"You act like I'm going to expire before you. I'm not going to die in  the next few months. You're safe." Harrison sat with his back to the  couch and his eyes on the bookcase across the room.

"I could have twenty more years." He turned his head and regarded her.  "I could have thirty. Stop thinking about my death. It's forbidden until  it's actually here."

Beth snorted, but when he didn't relinquish eye contact, she nodded.

Harrison got up and she shot to her feet as well, her nerves unreliable  and spastic. She fidgeted with the blanket, and then pulled it from her  frame, quickly folding and setting it on the back of the couch. When  that was done, she watched Harrison, taking in his fiery hair and  fearsome eyes. He stood still, unyielding, thoughts flittering across  his features as he examined her. Harrison looked at Beth like he was  deciding something about her.

"I, um, I should get going," she explained when he gave her an inquiring  look. "It's … " Beth turned to the clock and gasped. "It's after six."

Panic spun her in a half-circle and she fled from the room, blinking her  eyes at the darkness she hadn't been aware was creeping up on them.  Beth was on the schedule to bartend at eight that night at The Lucky  Coin. That didn't give her much time to get home-especially with the  weather-eat something, and shower. She sped toward the laundry room,  flinging off the pants and shimmying into her jeans. Her hands trembled  with the thought of being late for work, prolonging her clumsy attempts  to fold the pants. Grabbing her socks from the dryer, she quickly  exchanged Harrison's for hers.

Jogging into the foyer, Beth shoved her feet into her boots, put on her  coat, and flung open the door with the intention of wiping the snow off  the car and letting it warm up for a few minutes before leaving. Icy air  blasted her face and stole her breaths, snow rushing toward her. She  muttered a curse. Black and white met her gaze, stinging enough to cause  her eyes to water, and she squinted against the elements. The SUV was  barely visible, a mound of an unidentifiable object beneath layers of  packed white substance, and it was still coming.         

     



 

"I wouldn't advise driving home in that. The plows won't go by until it  has stopped, and the driveway will be not be addressed until morning."

She slammed shut the door and turned to look at Harrison. The havoc  outside was jarring in comparison to the quiet inside the house. "I have  to. I'm supposed to work tonight. I should have been paying better  attention to what was going on outside." Instead of paying such avid  attention to you.

"Call them, tell them you're stranded outside of town. I'm sure they'll understand."

Ozzy wouldn't understand, and he'd be the second person to know after  she talked to one of his parents. Whether or not it was the smartest  decision, she could see him being adamant about coming to get her. Ozzy  couldn't know where she was, let alone risk his safety to come to her  rescue in the tumultuous weather. He also couldn't know about Harrison,  or his anonymity would be compromised.

And she couldn't stay at Harrison's. It was a familiarity they should not share. Beth had to leave. There was no other option.