Steady as the Snow Falls(40)

She forced her eyes back to him as he strolled through the melting snow,  his hands shoved in the pockets of his orange jacket, the black cap  tight against his skull. His head was angled to the side, the cut of his  cheekbone and brow visible to her. Harrison looked reflective, lost in  thought as he gazed toward the creek. Beth jotted down notes, her hand  struggling to work as quickly as her mind.

The sun found him, shone through and around him as if he was the show  and it was the spotlight. What will he do next? an invisible audience  wondered, hushed and expectant. As she observed Harrison, she realized  she was the audience. Beth was the one waiting, enthralled by the  physically unwell man who exuded his own form of life. His frame was  slight, gaunt with disease, and yet he stood tall, defiant against the  thing that strove to defeat him.

Beth blinked her eyes and wrote about how the proud tilt of his chin  told a tale of unconquerable spirit. He stood alone, nothing but trees  and hills around him, and he was vibrant. A painting of red and black  and brown with white skin. He wasn't classically handsome, but Harrison  was large, overtaking space from his mere presence. Undeniable.  Intimidating. Intense. A force that, knowing he would fall, would go  down fighting.

"You fight, Harrison," she said softly. "Don't stop fighting."

She didn't write about the man before, the man he'd been, as Harrison  had requested. Beth couldn't. She didn't know that man. She wrote about  him as she knew him. He'd said his life wasn't about the disease, and  that was true, and in keeping with that frame of mind, writing about him  before it became a part of his existence would be wrong. It would  separate him, turn him into a story of before, and a story of after.  Beth only wanted to write of Harrison. And she did.

Music and nature, walks and reading. Cold eyes, heated eyes. A face  carved from the toughest of stones. A man with a disease, a man who  packed all of his pieces tightly inside, and tried to make them  invisible. Dark fire, black fire, blazing fire. A warrior who only had  to decide to not give up. And he hadn't. Beth knew that now.





THE SKY WAS black and starry, peaceful for someone other than her. She  let out a slow, uneven breath, and used the spare key Harrison had given  her to unlock the front door. Beth didn't really know what she was  doing. But the hours spent at home forced her to admit that she didn't  want to be at home, and she didn't want to be alone. What she wanted was  simple. Singular.

Harrison.

Her heartrate was fast, chaotic. It pounded with anxiety and need, with  fear and anticipation. In the daylight hours, she gathered up her things  and went home as soon as he came back from his walk. An afternoon of  eyes that never quite touched and soundless voices did not appeal to  her. Beth didn't say goodbye, and neither did he. Maybe it was madness  to come back. Maybe Beth was asking to be hurt again. But she needed an  answer, something, and then she would know what to do.

He would tell her to go, or he would ask her to stay.

The lock clicking open sounded abnormally loud, and she wondered if all  of the countryside heard it. Beth tiptoed inside, locking the door  behind her. She took off her boots and coat in the darkness and headed  for the stairs. She didn't pause or take a moment to reconsider, because  if she did, she might leave.         

     



 

His bedroom door was open. She stood in the doorway for a moment,  listening to his steady breathing. It was lyrical in its symbolism. It  meant he lived. Beth tiptoed to the bed, watching his chest lift and  lower, seeing the puckered line between his eyebrows. What thoughts  haunted his dreams? She smoothed it with her finger and leaned down to  press a kiss there.

A hand, strong and hard, clamped around her wrist. "What are you doing here, Beth?"

Harrison smelled like cotton and life, clean. Strong.

"I wanted to see you." Her voice was soft, and it wavered. Harrison  wouldn't like that. It would let him know she was upset about something,  and if he thought it was over him, he would tell her to stop. Like she  could just turn off her feelings.

"You saw me once today. If you recall, it wasn't all that good of a time. Go home. Get some sleep."

"No. I needed to see you. Now. And I'm not going, not yet." Beth reached  for him, her hands touching his jaw, her blood singing with a  bittersweet ache. She wanted him to stop telling her no, and instead  tell himself yes.

He shot up to a sitting position so fast his forehead banged against  hers, and she fell partially onto his lap. His grip tightened on her  wrist. It didn't hurt, but it was firm, an unspoken warning for her to  stop whatever she planned to do. Beth's free hand braced his chest,  feeling the thundering of his heart beneath her palm. His skin was warm,  and taut; it didn't seem real that he could be anything other than  eternal. Harrison felt like everything she ever wanted wrapped up in one  man.

"We can't, Beth. We can't do this," he warned, his voice vibrating with  heat. But the tone of his words brought her closer. He didn't mean them.

"We can. I want you, Harrison. All of you. I'm not letting you push me away anymore."

"Don't think I don't want you. I do. I want you," he panted, grabbing her hand and squeezing.

Harrison moved her hand to his erection, pressed it there. He groaned,  guttural and deep. His chest heaved, and his breaths came quicker, a  shield splintered by the touch of a woman. She went still, fascinated,  all of her flooding with warmth. Liquid desire mixed with adrenaline.  That sound, she wanted to hear that sound pass his lips again and again,  more and more. Beth's core throbbed, her fingers wanting to wrap around  him and make him lose his mind with pleasure. Her pinky twitched, and  Harrison's hand pressed harder to still the movement.

His skin burned through the boxer briefs, hard with want. "I want you so  bad, bad enough that I could die tomorrow if I was guaranteed all of  tonight with you. Any night. All the nights," Harrison whispered. He  gently pushed her hand from him. "I'd sell my soul for it. You drive me  mad with your scent, and your eyes, and your words. And your heart,  always your heart, staring at me from your big blue eyes. You think I'm  strong, you think so many things I don't have the heart to tell you  aren't true. I want to give you what you want, Beth. I want to give you  everything, all of me. But I can't."

"I love you," she blurted, snapping her teeth together at the unintended confession.

Harrison turned to stone, a dark shadow crisscrossed with light from the moon outside the window. "Then I feel sorry for you."

Beth's mouth trembled, her hand reaching for the man who never allowed  her comfort. "You don't mean that. I know you don't. Harrison-"

He jumped from the bed. Back and forth, he paced, his shoulders hunched  forward, the pads of his bare feet slapping on the hardwood floor as he  moved, an angry beast caged inside four walls. Four walls he chose to  build. Four walls he could destroy.

"No. You're right, I don't. I feel sorry for me. I'm so fucking stupid," Harrison muttered. "So fucking stupid!"

He spun toward the wall and punched a fist against it. He stood like  that, his back waving as he breathed, his hands splayed against the wall  with his head bowed. "You are not allowed to love me," he said  raggedly, pleadingly.

Beth scrambled from the bed, hovering behind him. So near, and so far.  She lightly rested a palm to his shoulder, and he jerked in response.  Harrison went still, and when he didn't push her away, Beth touched her  mouth to the place near her hand. His skin shuddered around it. She  couldn't understand how her heart pounded the way it did without  stopping.

"It's too late. I already do."

"I came here to be alone." The words were low, without emotion.

She nodded behind him, both hands touching his back, each on one  shoulder blade. Beth slowly turned her head and set her cheek to the  smooth, hot, unblemished skin. She closed her eyes as she loosely  barricaded him in, not to trap him, but to let him know he had her  strength as well. She stood with him, and she would fall with him. Beth  would pick him up when he couldn't stand on his own. And if he couldn't  stand with her, then she would lie down beside him.         

     



 

"I accepted it. The plan was almost beautiful, really. I was going to  eat and drink whatever the hell I wanted, or whatever my body would  allow, and I was going to read. Reflect on things. Listen to music. Go  for walks. Enjoy my time. I simplified my world so that it was easier to  one day leave it."

Beth trailed her palms down and around his torso, her arms meeting at  the center of his stomach. Too skinny. He was too skinny. She inhaled,  exhaled, held him. Harrison's hands slid down the wall and stopped on  her arms. She tensed, expecting him to remove them, but he didn't. He  cocooned them, hugged her arms as her arms hugged him.