Of Happiness (6 page)

Jane giggles. “Not exactly.”

Harris clears his throat, and my eyes immediately swing to him. His gray gaze looks like melted silver tonight, and within a second, I’m drowning in him. The rest of the room fades and even though there’s a whole person between us, it’s like Harris and I are the only two people in this space. Hell, in the world. He’s all I see. All I want.

“That awkward moment”—his voice sounds huskier than usual and deadly serious—“when you lose the trust of the girl you are crazy about, and confess that you’re afraid of never getting her back in front of her friends and father.”

Whoosh.

That’s the sound of the air leaking out of my body as I deflate into my seat. Serious, contemplative Harris just admitted he’s crazy about me and he’s afraid of losing me. In public, before our friends and my father.

In the depth of his silver eyes, I find a side of Harris I haven’t yet seen. It’s remorse so all encompassing it practically swallows me whole.

He’s in this as deeply as I am.

Finally I force myself to break the stare, focusing on the table. No one’s said anything.

“That awkward moment when your boss confesses his feelings for your new roommate-slash-friend-slash-cuddle-partner,” Luke suddenly blurts out.

There’s a flurry of commotion; everyone seems thrilled with the distraction from Harris’ intensity.

“What? You cuddled with him and not me?” Sean gasps.

“Sorry, Sean, but your beau gives off the snuggler vibe.” Jane’s got a gleam to her eyes.

“Luke.” Harris leans across the table, glaring at his assistant. “You are the best of the best, and I am forever indebted to you for the tremendous job you do, but this sounds like grounds for termination.”

“Don’t be a Neanderthal.” Sean smacks Harris on the arm and I watch nervously for a moment… and then it happens. Harris smiles to the entire table; it’s slight, but it’s playful to indicate he was teasing. There’s a collective sigh of relief.

“But you do need to explain when the two of you had this little party without me.” Sean pouts.

“I’m sorry, honey, but last night after you went to bed she and I couldn’t sleep. We started watching re-runs on the couch. It just happened.” Luke attempts to pacify him.

Shaking my head, I can’t contain my small smile. “Sean, it wasn’t planned.”

“My work here is done,” Sean says smugly, sitting back and crossing his arms over his chest.

“What are you talking about?” I ask.

“You needed to be distracted before you went up there.” He cocks his head toward the stage. “I minored in psychology, so I’m pretty good at this kind of stuff.”

Shrugging off my cardigan, I roll my eyes at him. “You planned this whole conversation?”

“Well, not exactly, but admit it, you didn’t have any time to get nervous.”

My noses wrinkles in response.
Harris provided all the necessary distraction.
“Good work, Dr. Freud.” Placing my hands flat on the tabletop, I push myself up into a standing position. Suddenly I’m wobbly, perhaps because Harris won’t stop staring at me, or perhaps because I could barely stomach half of the hamburger I ordered for dinner tonight. “Okay, it feels like it’s my time to hit the stage,” I say to the table, then order my legs to carry me away.

In the time that it takes me to turn from the table and make my way to the seat in front of the piano, I ride through a wave of anxiety. Once I’m perched on the bench, my hands resting on the ivory keys, a sense of calm settles all the worries. The memories of Claire’s and Amanda’s furious faces, the wrenching heartache left in the wake of Harris’ silent act, disappear. At this place I find the elusive peace that’s been missing for the past few days.

For these few moments, I’ll be weightless.

My eyes flicker to my dad who rotated his chair, so he’s facing me completely. I tune out Harris and the mixture of our friends. All of my energy focuses on sharing another piece of me with my father.

This week the bar is a bit less crowded than last week, so when I tap on the microphone, it quiets down quickly.

“Hi, I’m Eddie and this is dedicated to my dad,” I murmur.

My eyes flutter closed and I sink into the song. It’s my most familiar melody, the one I learned with help of mom’s scribbles on the sheet music, “Landslide
.
”
The music twists around me, higher and higher until it’s my only thought. I’m pushing forth all the emotion that’s been building inside me since my dad arrived: anguish over missed time, and joy that we’re connecting like we never have in the past.

In between the lyrics, I hit an instrumental part of the song, devoid of my voice. My eyes open on their own accord and drift to my father. A smile flashes across my lips quickly and I turn back to the piano, sliding into the next verse. I’ve been playing with this song since I was ten years old. I know it backward and forward, but this experience is different. Usually I feel the serenity of my mother’s presence when I’m at the piano, but this time there’s more. With my dad in the audience, a sense of being whole grounds me. What I wanted most, to connect with him on this level, is finally happening. Surreal.

My voice dips into a husky murmur as I finish with the final lyrics and a short rift of notes. Twisting my head, I meet my dad’s gaze. His expression shocks me. It’s a look I’ve never seen before. There’s a softness that makes him open, approachable, and most of all, fatherly. He heard
me,
not the music, but the girl behind it.

I don’t hear the response of the bar patrons or my friends. I’m set on moving straight to my dad who sweeps me into a side hug. He presses his lips to the top of my head in a quick kiss, then he mutters, “I’m so proud of you, Ed.”

Cheeks rosy with a blush, I train my eyes to his chest. Dad guides me back into my seat where I’m still overcome with happiness.

“Wow, Eddie, I was not expecting that big voice to come out of you,” Matt says.

“If you saw the way she practiced day in and day out since she was five years old, you’d realize that was nothing,” Dad boasts.

“How did you get interested in playing?” Jane asks.

“When I was pretty young I discovered my mom’s piano and music in our basement. You know how kids get an idea stuck in their head? I begged my dad every day for lessons. Eventually he called my grandma and told her I wanted lessons. That’s pretty much the story.”

“Don’t sell yourself short,” Harris murmurs from next to Sean.

The conversation continues around me without my contribution. Dad fields questions about my playing, but I hardly listen. The emotional toll of the performance and Harris’ confession wane on me, and suddenly I’m clenching my teeth together to keep their chattering at bay. I tug my cardigan on, wrapping it tightly around my chest.

“Ed?” Dad prompts.

“I’m sorry.” I give him a weak smile and shrug my shoulders. “I’m out of practice. That was exhausting. What did you say?”

“Are you about ready to go?” Dad asks.

“Sure,” I mumble and begin collecting my purse and cell phone. Assuming that everyone will follow, I lead the way out of the bar and walk out onto the sidewalk. I take a few steps away from the door of the brick building, practically hugging the wall.  I’m still clutching my light sweater to my chest, trembling.

What happens next?
Dad’s leaving tomorrow. There’s no resolution yet to—

“Edith.” Harris’ long fingers close around my elbow, gently commanding my attention. Ripples of awareness cascade into every inch of my body. With the slightest touch, he consumes me.

“What are you doing?” The trembles in my body luckily don’t translate to my voice. I sound firm.

“I need to speak to you.”

“Harris—” I immediately stop talking when he sinks to his knees before me. He extends one hand to lightly take hold of the column of my throat. Back and forth, back and forth, the pad of his thumb strokes against my pulse point. The remorse I found in his gaze earlier has subsided, now he’s all hope.

“Do you remember when I said you were the only woman who could bring me to my knees?”

“Harris, everyone’s going to come outside.” Even though I say the words, any fight is noticeably absent from them.

“Even if they were, I wouldn’t care. Do you remember?”  

“Yes,” I whisper.

“I won’t go another day without you, Edith. Not one.” He delivers the words intently. He’ll stop at nothing to get what he wants.

The arrogance infuriates me. Anger pushes past the exhaustion and hurt. He dismissed what grew between us without hesitation because of small obstacles set forth by his sister. Now when I’m in the thick of fixing my relationship with my father Harris expects me to focus on him. 

“You want me?” I snap. Lifting my hand to where his rests around my neck, I try tug it away, but he won’t relent.

“More than want. You are a necessity to me. No one brings me the peace that I find when I’m with you.” His voice is just as harsh, passionate, and he tightens his grip.

“Then show me! Stop running away and keeping me at arm’s length.” My head falls forward as the words release most of my aggression. “Do you realize that tonight I’m working on things with my father? He and I have spent the last three days bulldozing over the ash that was our twisted relationship. Of course I’ve been aching for us to talk, but I told myself to put you on hold. Tonight was the night I was going to speak to my Dad through my music. So, yes, you and I need to talk, but not today.”

Seemingly aware that he’s physically intimidating me, Harris pushes to his feet. But then moves close enough that his cheek hovers centimeters away from mine. My eyes close involuntarily as his scent overpowers my senses.

He drags his nose along my cheekbone, then murmurs in the most tender way, “I’m so sorry for hurting you. I hurt me, too.”

I swallow back a whimper. If feelings could appear in physical manifestations, I could hold the weight of his remorse.

“Baby, I didn’t mean to interrupt your reunion with your father, but I couldn’t stay away.”

“Stop trying to distract me by nosing me,” I mumble, and open my eyes.

Harris’ gray eyes glimmer with humor. “I can’t help myself when it comes to you. Even my nose won’t stay away. When is your dad leaving?” 

The resolve I built up, the hardness around my frayed heart, softens.

He’s got me again.

“In the morning.” The shivers return to my body, but this time out of anticipation.

“Tomorrow,” he says huskily. “We’re going to put this behind us tomorrow.”

“What are you doing?” Matt gawks from somewhere behind us, and suddenly Harris is yanked backward by a grip around his upper arm. “This is not the way to get her back, man. Have some dignity!”

“I think it’s sweet,” Jane says approvingly from where she, Luke, Sean, and my father watch in amusement.

Harris chuckles and shakes his head while his friend drags him backward. “Time’s too precious to play with pretenses, Matt.”

Silently, I watch Harris give his farewells to my friends. Then he reaches my father, who extends a hand and they shake. To my shock, Harris reveals his straight white teeth in a broad grin.

“Thanks, Don,” he tells him.

For what?

My dad nods. “Don’t forget what I said.”

But I’m unable to watch the rest of their interaction because Jane steps in my line of vision.

“I’m so glad he met you,” she tells me confidentially. Her arms come around me in a hug and she drops her voice even softer, speaking next to my ear. “You turned on a light inside him, Eddie.”

I want to tell her I saw it happen too, the gradual transformation that seemed to lessen the load he carries. But I’m silent, treasuring that tidbit for myself.

We finish saying our goodbyes. Harris, Matt, and Jane drift away toward wherever their car is parked. When they’re no more than ten feet away, Harris turns back, pinning me with his steady gaze and a smirk.
Tomorrow
, he mouths.

My lips twitch and I respond with my own silent word:
okay.

T
he next morning I meet my dad in the hotel restaurant for an early breakfast before his flight. When I arrive, I find him waiting for me at a table. As soon as I catch his attention, Dad jumps to his feet, sidesteps the table, and pulls out a chair for me.

“Before we sit down,” he says hastily, “I want to thank you for the past few days. For giving me a chance and letting me into your life.”

“Dad,” I say, taking my seat across from his. I open my mouth to respond with something profound, but my words are simple. “You showed up at a time that I’ve never needed you more.” I inhale a deep breath. “I should be the one thanking you.”

His eyes wrinkle when he smiles fondly at me.

No, I don’t believe all of our problems have been solved, but now I’m sure we have a chance at a real father/daughter bond. I’m not holding on to the darkness of our past, but eying the brightness of our future.

While we eat and discuss the details of paying off my student loans, I can’t help but think of Harris’ promise last night.
Tomorrow,
he had said. Now it is tomorrow. Okay, so it’s early in the morning, but when will I see him? I’m done being passive in our relationship.