Page 54 of Even After This
Harlan is dressed in a long-sleeve, navy-blue Broncos T-shirt and faded jeans that fit oh-so-well in all the right places. His brown hair is disheveled, not in an I’m-trying-to-look-like-this way but in an I-just-rolled-out-of-bed-and-couldn’t-care-less-how-great-I-look way. But it’s the warm mahogany eyes with crinkles around the edges that pull back the chandelier of my emotions and let it swing.
Bottom line, I’m in trouble.
He leans against the doorjamb.
I’m now in more trouble than I was five seconds ago.
“Tell me again why you’re leaving so early?” He holds out a cup of coffee.
I cradle the caffeine offering in my hands. “My plane takes off soon?”
“Humph.”
I nod to the bakery sack he holds. “Are you going to hoard those treats, or is one for me?”
“Banana nut or blueberry muffin?”
“Banana nut.”
He grins. “You gonna let me in, or are we gonna eat breakfast out in the hall?”
Am I going to let him in?
I swallow. “Yes. Sorry.” I turn sideways to allow him entrance, grabbing the bag as he slides past me.
He stops, stance wide, left hand shoved in his front jeans pocket, right hand holding his coffee, and takes in my room. “What happened in here?”
“I kind of got carried away.” I attempt a sip of my scalding coffee, but the heat emanating from the hole at the top of the cup warns my tongue of its demise.
“Checking for lost stuff? Yeah, I’m the same way. Want a second pair of eyes to make sure you didn’t leave anything?”
“No,” I blurt out too fast, thinking of the possible stray underwear. In an effort to distract his helpful ways, I set my cup down and distribute the muffins.
Harlan takes a huge bite, chews, and swallows. “Hey, I wanted to ask you something. Are there any significant dates coming up? Hard days? Anniversaries or birthdays?”
I forget to breathe.
“Meredith?”
Shaking my head, I pull out of my awed stupor. “My calendar is like a minefield. How did you know that?”
He wipes a hand on his jeans. “I’m always a bear to be around on the death anniversary of my dad.” He shrugs. “I thought I would ask.”
Three birthdays, a wedding anniversary, and the accident anniversary. Add my birthday, Mother’s Day, and Father’s Day to the list, to say nothing of any of the regular holidays like Thanksgiving and Christmas. If I think about it too much, I want to crawl in a hole and hide for the rest of my life.
I swallow down a lump of heartbreak. “Chloe’s birthday is October twenty-fifth.”
Harlan nods and steps toward me. “What will help?”
I place my muffin on a side table and walk to the window. The light from the lampposts streak the dark, glistening streets.
“I’m not sure how to answer your question. It only took a few failed attempts to realize I can’t avoid pain by planning how to cope. I have to lean in. Feel what’s there on a specific day. Figure out what I need in the moment.” I wrap my arms around myself. “Sometimes I draw the shades and stay in my sweats. Sometimes I go to her grave. Always, there’s an exhausting meltdown involved. My sister checks on me, but I usually don’t want to be around people.”
Harlan clears his throat.
“Thank you for asking.” I turn to face him. “It means a lot to me.” Tears threaten to fall, so I amble to the bathroom to finish my search.
“Where’s your phone? I want to plug in all my contact info.”
