Coldplay—Fix You
Gavin Mikhail—Its Where My Demons Hide
Sara Bareilles—Gravity
“Clay, baby?”
I gasp as Mommy’s voice echoes around me, loud and clear like she’s right next to me. I whip my head back and forth, my eyes searching in the darkness as I try my hardest to find her, but it doesn’t matter what I do, I can’t see her anywhere.
It’s too dark.
“Mommy?” My voice is small, my eyes narrowing as I try to see any kind of movement. “I can’t find you, Mommy.”
I shiver against the breeze that sweeps around me and wrap my arms around my waist, trying to keep some warmth in my body. My bare feet hit the cold concrete ground and I wince as something digs into the bottom of my foot.
I feel something brush past me and my head whips to the side, my heart starting to beat harder in my chest.
“Clay?”
Her voice sounds farther away now, but I can’t work out where it’s coming from so I keep walking forward, hoping that it came from this way.
I shiver more the farther I walk, my teeth chattering and my hands shaking.
All I want is my mommy.
“Mommy?” I sniffle, wiping my arm under my nose and trying my hardest not to cry. I have to be strong for Daddy and Izzie, I can’t let anyone see me cry.
“That’s it, Clay, baby,” Mommy says, her soft voice sounding closer now. “Keep walking this way.”
“I’m scared,” I whisper.
I hate this; I hate how dark it is.
Squeezing my eyes shut tightly, I take a deep breath and move another couple of steps forward before light shines in front of me.
My eyes spring open, the light blinding me for a couple of seconds before my eyes adjust to the brightness.
But as soon as they do, I smile; I smile so wide I think my cheeks may break.
“Mommy!” I rush forward, my feet slapping against the ground loudly.
Sometimes I smell the same perfume that she always used to wear, and it doesn’t matter where I am or what I’m doing, I always look for her. I can still remember the way it felt to sit in her lap or to have her cuddle me when I was upset.
I don’t have that anymore.
She smiles back at me, opening her arms wide as she rushes forward too.
“Clay!” Her voice sounds different; rougher, almost like she’s about to cry.
I try to run faster, but it doesn’t matter how fast my legs move, it feels like I’m getting farther and farther away. I scream inside my mind, willing them to go impossibly faster.
“I missed you, baby,” she says, the sound of a sob coming from her.
“I missed you too, Mommy!”
My legs work faster and finally I start to get closer to her. I reach my arm out, my fingertips nearly touching hers before all of the lights turn off, basking us in darkness again.
I can’t see a thing in front of me for several seconds until the lights shine bright again. Only my mommy isn’t there anymore.
I spin around frantically, my heart thumping loudly in my chest and tears now coming from my eyes and streaming down my face as I try to find her.
I don’t see anything or anyone.
“Mommy?” Silence. “Mommy?” I try again. “Moooooommy!”
No one answers me as the lights go out again and I scream for her, my throat burning as I shout as loud as I can but not getting an answer.
“No! Mommy! Please don’t leave me again!”
My eyes spring open and I bolt upright in bed, my body on high alert as I hit the switch on the bedside light and curse as it feels like I’m burning my eyeballs from the inside out.
My ears perk up, telling me that there’s something that caused me to wake up. I concentrate on the bedroom door that is ajar, trying to work out what woke me, but when I don’t hear anything for several seconds, I settle back down.
“Mommy? Mommy?” I’m up out of the bed as soon as I hear Clay’s pleading, my legs working overtime to get to him.
My feet slap against the cold marble floor and I pump my arms harder, turning the corner.
“Moooooommy!” My heart thumps in my chest like the loud beat of a drum and my hands start to shake as I hear the sorrow in his voice; searching for something that he won’t ever find.
I push his bedroom door open, watching as he thrashes about in his bed, the covers entwined around his legs as his arms flail wildly around him.
“No! Mommy! Please don’t leave me again!”
I gasp, not able to hold it in as I rush to him, falling onto my knees beside his bed as I gently shake his shoulder.
He doesn’t stop calling out for her, even when his eyes open, his head whipping from side to side. His eyes finally settle on mine, but he’s not looking at me, he’s searching for something—for his mom.
“Clay? Buddy?”
“Mom—” His little face screws up when he realizes where he is and who he’s staring at. “Dad?” he sobs.
“Yeah, buddy. It’s Dad,” I croak out, my voice betraying me.
I pull him against me, rocking him back and forth as I try my hardest to calm him down and comfort not only him, but myself too.
You’d think that after the amount of nightmares he’s had, I’d know exactly what to do, but I feel as lost now as I did when he had his first one only weeks after we lost Natalia.
They’re becoming more and more frequent lately.
I have an idea of what his nightmares are about, but he’s never once told me himself. The screaming out for Natalia is all I need to know what about what happens in them.
“Do you want to talk about it?” I ask, pulling back and hoping against all hope that this one time, he’ll answer me.
I’m graced with the same shake of the head that I always get as he lays his head back on my chest.
“Okay,” I answer, swallowing against my dry throat as I pick him and one of his nightlights up. “Shall we go to Daddy’s room?”
He nods his head against my shoulder and I stand, rubbing his back in soothing motions as I make my way down to my room, the nightlight showing us the way.
All I want is to fix what’s going on and to make things better for him. I can’t imagine what it must be like for him to have these nightmares; to see her in his dreams and then open his eyes and she’s gone all over again. I’m exhausted thinking about it so I can’t even begin to imagine what he goes through when it happens.
As soon as we’re in my room, I pull the covers back and settle him on the other side of the bed. He buries his head in the pillow, pulling his knees up to his chest as he keeps his gaze connected to mine.
“Go to sleep now, buddy. I’m here.”
“Okay,” his small rough voice replies as he lets his eyes close slowly.
I wince at the sound of his voice, knowing that he’ll probably have a sore throat in the morning from all the screaming that he did.
Pulling the covers back, I slide in beside him, watching as he closes his eyes fully, but I don’t relax until his breathing evens out and I know that he’s asleep. And even then, I lie as still as a statue, watching him in case he starts to dream about her again.
The smile on my face falls as soon as I see Izzie and Clayton’s downturned faces as they walk up the cobblestone path, Tristan following behind them, running his hand through his hair.
Clayton throws open the door, making the bell clash, and immediately walks over to the beanbags, turning his back to us as he sits down. Izzie clings on to Tristan’s leg, looking between her brother and her dad.
I walk over to them and Tristan clears his throat, bending down to Izzie’s height. “Daddy has to go now.” She clings onto his arm instead so I kneel down next to him and her gaze flits to mine.
“Hey, Izzie. Tilly could use some help setting up for today, do you think you could be a big girl and help out?” She shakes her head and buries her face into Tristan’s shoulder. “Well, that’s a shame. I heard that she has a new story about a unicorn but she has no one to tell it to.”
She lifts her head slightly, her eyes flicking over to my mom. “She does?”
I nod enthusiastically and scrunch up my shoulders in faux excitement. She giggles and grabs Tristan’s face, kissing him square on the lips and skipping off over to the other side of the room.
We both stand up and he blows out a deep breath. “Thanks, I thought we were nearing another meltdown.”
“Is everything okay?” I ask, my eyes finding Clayton with his head stuck firmly in a book. He looks like he’s reverted back to the boy that turned up on week one.
He huffs. “I… He had a bad night.” He gazes at Clayton, his eyes shining with sadness. “I don’t think I should leave him.”
“I’m sure he’ll come out of his shell once we start the session,” I say, smiling reassuringly at him.
He looks between us both and rubs the back of his neck with his hand. “Alright, I won’t be far. If he needs me, give me a call.”
“I will.” He shoots me a small wave, turning and walking right into the door while trying to push on it. “It’s a pull,” I say, trying to stifle the giggle that’s bubbling its way up my throat.
He pulls it open and looks back at me, his face turning bright red. “Right... Laters.”
Laters? What is he, a teenager?
He closes the door and I let out the giggle that I was holding in, staring after him. He turns around again and grins before shooting me a wink, causing me to blush.
Mom sidles up beside me and crosses her arms over her chest with a smirk on her face. “Something catch your attention? Or should I say someone?”
I roll my eyes at her and walk off toward the front of the room, ignoring her comment and clapping my hands together to get everyone’s attention.
“Morning, everyone.” I receive a chorus of mornings in return. “Who knows what tomorrow is?” I ask.
Several hands shoot up in the air and I point at Jessica. “Sunday,” she says, smiling.
I chuckle. “It is Sunday, but it’s also a special Sunday. Can anyone tell me why?”
“It’s Mother’s Day!” Ben shouts above everyone.
“Hand up next time, Ben, but you’re right, it is Mother’s Day so we’re going to make something for all the special ladies that take care of you.”
I explain to them that we’re going to make tissue paper tulips, cards, and whatever else they want before I send them on their way after a quick demonstration.
Not long after that, a squeal catches my attention and I twirl around, trying to locate where the noise came from.
My eyes widen when I see Izzie on the floor a couple of feet away from Clayton, crying as he scowls at her. I walk over and pick Izzie up, handing her to my mom who follows me over to the beanbags before bending down in front of Clayton.
“Clayton, what happened?” I ask, using a soothing voice.
“She started it,” he mumbles, looking down at his hands.
“You’re a lot bigger than Izzie, bud, you should be protecting her, not pushing her around.”
He looks up at me with tears brimming on the surface of his eyes. “I didn’t mean to.” They start to leak out and he throws his head in his hands, breaking my heart in the process.
“Why don’t we go upstairs?” I ask him and he nods, walking over to the staircase leading up to my studio.
My eyes scan the room and I see Izzie painting while sitting on Mom’s knee and I signal that I’m going upstairs and to call Tristan for me. She gives me a thumbs-up before placing Izzie on the stool as she stands and heads into my office.
I walk up the stairs after Clayton, my heart beating out of my chest when I get to the top and see him sitting on the bench in front of my table.
His tears haven’t stopped and I can’t help myself, I walk over and pull him into my body. He stiffens at first, but when he relaxes, his arms reach out and grip onto my neck like his life is depending on it. I relax into the embrace fully, giving him the comfort that he’s desperately searching for.
He sobs into my neck and I try soothing him with a few shushes, running my hand over his light brown hair and down his back.
“It’s okay, Clayton. I’m sure that Izzie will forgive you.” He shakes his head furiously and I take it to mean that that isn’t why he’s crying. “Whatever is wrong, we’ll try and make it better.”
“No… you can’t,” he sobs, gripping onto my neck tighter.
I pull away from him slightly, looking into his distraught, bloodshot eyes. “I will do everything in my power to help you if you tell me what’s going on.”
He sniffles, his lip wobbling as he looks at me. “I want my mom.” A strangled cry bubbles up his throat and I have to fight back my own tears in the fear of upsetting him more. “I just want my mommy back.”
He lays his head against my chest and moves his hands from around my neck to wrap around his body, hugging himself like he’s trying to keep all of the pieces of his broken heart together.
My arms cradle him, trying to make him feel safe, but I have no words for him—none that would make this any easier for him anyway.
And then it hits me, this is all my fault. The Mother’s Day gifts speech; it was completely thoughtless of me. He hates me—Tristan is going to hate me.
I squeeze my eyes shut but a noise draws me out of the moment and they flit back open, seeing that it’s Tristan with his back against the wall, his hand covering his mouth and tears in his eyes as he shakes his head slightly.
Clayton must’ve heard the noise too because his head lifts slightly and he croaks out, “Daddy?” and that’s all it takes for Tristan to snap into “dad mode” and barrel forward, scooping him out of my arms and sitting on the floor with him as I stare at them in horror at what I’ve caused.
I don’t wander far once I drop the kids off at art class with Harmony. After last night, I didn’t think things could become worse, but they did.
Both Clay and I woke up to a bouncing, wide-awake Izzie, and that was only the start of the worst morning in the history of mornings. Clay was cranky after getting such little sleep, and he wouldn’t even look at Izzie. I knew what he was thinking; what he was feeling when he looked in her eyes, because I see her too. Natalia.
When we were eating breakfast, Izzie started singing, which then led to another argument. I knew that Izzie couldn’t understand what was up with Clay, and there was no way that I could explain it to her.
The whole morning was a write-off, and when we got into the car to go to art class, Clay only got worse. I knew that last night was playing on his mind, but what am I supposed to do when he won’t talk to me? I can’t help him when I don’t know what I’m helping him with.
I could see that he was going to blow at any second and so could Izzie, which is why she didn’t want to let go of me when we arrived at the studio.
I made a conscious effort to stay close by in case anything happened, and it was lucky that I did because I hadn’t been gone for more than twenty minutes when I got the call from Tilly asking me to come and pick Clay up.
I was back at the studio within a couple of minutes, and searching for both Clay and Izzie.
“Tilly?” I ask, stepping toward where she’s sitting with Izzie. “Pumpkin?”
“Daddy,” she sobs, jumping off Tilly’s lap and barreling toward me.
“What happened?” I bend down and wrap my arms around her before standing up, holding her tight as her tears wet my shirt.
“Clay was being a big meanie.”
I look at Tilly who points at the stairs. “He’s up there with Harmony.”
I can see the worried look in her eyes and it has me on edge. I never should have left him here today, I should have taken him somewhere else and tried to talk him through his nightmare.
I pull back from Izzie, kneeling down and swiping the tears from her face with my thumbs as I set her down on the wooden floor. “Why don’t you go and paint me a pretty picture for my office?”
She hiccups and nods her head, putting on a brave face. “Okay, Daddy.”
“I love you, pumpkin,” I whisper, pulling her back toward me for one last hug.
“Love you,” she replies before she pulls back and looks up at Tilly.
“I’ll help,” Tilly tells her, smiling as she holds her hand out for her to take.
I take a deep breath as I watch them walk away, preparing for what I’m about to walk into before I make my way toward the stairs, hearing voices as I climb them.
“I just want my mommy back.” I hear as I get to the stop of the stairs. The heartbroken words floor me and I stumble to a stop, resting my hand against the wall beside me and shaking my head in denial at what I heard.
His words seem to echo around Harmony’s private studio; taunting me.
My chest heaves as I try to catch my breath and my eyes zone in on where Harmony and Clay are sitting, Clay being held by Harmony with his arms wrapped around his middle.
I fall against the wall I was holding onto and make a noise in the back of my throat, causing Harmony’s head to snap up and meet my gaze. Staring into her eyes, I can see how much she’s hurting for Clay and how much she wants to take his pain away; that’s all I want to do too.
“Daddy?” Clay’s voice snaps me out of the daze that I’m in and I barrel forward, taking him out of Harmony’s embrace and holding him close to my chest as I sink down onto the floor.
“Shhhh,” I whisper as the sobs rack his small body, rocking him to try and soothe him. “Daddy’s here. It’s okay.”
The sounds of his cries echo around the room and I have to squeeze my eyes shut to stop my own tears from breaking free. A lump forms in my throat and I lose the battle of controlling myself as a silent tear tracks down my face and over the stubble covering my jaw.
It kills me to see and hear him like this. It’s a parent’s worst nightmare to have a sobbing child in your arms and not be able to make it right; to give them the one thing that they want more than anything else in the world. I can’t bring Natalia back, he’ll never see his mother again, and that thought has a sob catching in my own throat.
“I’m so sorry,” Harmony whispers. “It’s all my fault.”
I shake my head as I open my eyes, trying to pull myself together enough to speak as I see her pale face and sad eyes staring at us.
“It’s not.” I shake my head, my voice sounding nothing like my own.
“No… really—” She cuts herself off as Clay looks up at her and then at me.
“I want to go home,” he whispers, his voice hoarse from all the crying.
“Okay, son. Let’s get you home.”
I stand up and he wraps his arms around my neck, not letting go as he buries his face into my shoulder which only makes me hold him tighter. I’m afraid that if I let go it’ll cause us both to fall apart.
“I…” I don’t know what to say.
“I can bring Izzie home,” Harmony says, biting her lip. “Only if you want.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, unsure whether to leave Izzie here on her own.
“Of course, I’m sure that she’d love to spend a couple of hours at the studio. Message me your address when you’re ready and I’ll bring her home.” I hesitate, hating that I’m relying on her to bring Izzie home. It’s not her job, she shouldn’t have to do that. “Tris.” She lays her hand on my arm, obviously being able to see that I’m torn. As soon as her skin touches mine, something fizzles in the air between us but we both ignore it, focusing on Clay. “Honestly, you go and spend some time with Clayton, I’ve got Izzie.”
“I…” I look down at Clay. “Okay, thank you.”
“You’re more than welcome.” She smiles, but it’s not her usual smile, it’s a sad smile that clearly has pain lingering behind it.
I turn around and walk down the stairs, seeing Izzie sitting at a table, painting. She starts to run toward me but slows down as Harmony intercepts her and whispers something in her ear that makes her face break out into a big grin.
I smile at my beautiful daughter—Natalia’s double—when she looks back at me and waves frantically before following Harmony back to the table she was sitting at.
“Dad?” Clay whispers.
“I know, bud. Let’s go home and watch a movie.”
He nods his head against my shoulder, his body relaxing and in turn letting me relax.
My mom has been telling me that I need to seek help for Clay for months now, and Harmony said effectively the same thing at the beach the other day, but I was still undecided.
After last night and today; my mind’s firmly made up.
I need to get him help; if he won’t talk to me then maybe he’ll talk to someone he doesn’t know. Sometimes talking to a stranger is easier than talking to someone that you’re close with.
A message pings through to my cellphone as I’m helping Izzie wrap her petal shaped tissue paper around the green painted wooden stick. I walk over to my office, digging through my purse to find it and pulling it out.
I read the message from Tristan stating his address and telling me that it’s okay to bring Izzie back whenever. He must’ve settled Clayton down.
Thinking about Clayton has my stomach in knots and I grip onto the edge of my desk, the smile dropping from my face. I’ve tried not to think about it all afternoon, but I feel so guilty; he wouldn’t be this way if I hadn’t had thought of this stupid Mother’s Day task.
“Miss J?” Izzie calls.
I pull myself together, pasting a smile on my face before I turn around and walk out of the office. “Yeah?”
“I can’t get this to stick.” She pokes her tongue out between her lips in concentration and I chuckle as I walk over, helping her with the final petal.
“Perfect. Are you ready to go home now?”
Her face screws up. “Home? But we’re having fun.”
“I know, sweetie, but your dad wants you back now,” I explain.
She sighs dramatically. “Oookay.”
I turn as I look for my mom, finding her watching Izzie and me from across the room. I raise a brow at her in question and she smirks at me, shaking her head before getting up and walking over.
“Would you mind clearing up?” I look down at Izzie, stroking a hand over her blond locks. “I’m going to take this little princess home.”
“Of course. Will you be back, or do you want me to close up too?”
“I’ll meet you at home,” I reply, narrowing my eyes at the gleam in hers. “What?”
She turns and waves me off over her shoulder. “See you at home.”
I shake my head at her and look down at Izzie again. “Are you ready?”
She picks up her bunch of tulips and the four cards that she’s made today; one for her dad, one for her nana, one for Edward, and one for Amelia—who I’ve gathered is a sort of live-in helper from Izzie’s comments today—and we’re out of the door and skipping down the sidewalk together toward my car.
I open the door for her and she climbs into the back seat, straightening up as I lean across her to buckle her in.
I pull back and she grins at me. “You smell pretty.”
I smile. “Thanks, Izzie.” I shut her door and climb into the driver’s seat.
“Can we listen to music?” she asks, so I turn on the radio, glancing back and seeing her head bopping around to the music that plays through the speakers.
I type their address into my GPS, not really needing it because I know exactly where their house is, but I do it anyway in case I manage to get lost.
It’s only a ten-minute drive away and as we get closer, I grip the steering wheel tightly. I don’t know if I can look Clayton in the eyes again and not blame myself for causing his meltdown. Holding him as he sobbed in my arms for his mom was heart-wrenching on its own, but knowing I caused it all? I hate myself.
I drive down the street that their house is on, glancing around at the fancy houses that crop up periodically until a pillar stating their house number looms in sight. I make the turn onto a gravel driveway and my breath hitches.
Whoa!
A towering, limestone mansion sits at the end of the driveway and I feel intimidated at the sheer size of the place. That’s a lot of rooms to clean.
I park beside a circular fountain and Izzie squeals, “We’re here!”
She unbuckles herself before I slide out of my seat and get out of the car, opening her door and watching as she jumps out and runs up to the front door, pushing hard on the handle and running inside, leaving it wide open.
I walk up to it and peer inside the spacious, white entryway, wondering if I should go in or not. As I’m about to walk in, I hear voices and Tristan appears from a hallway on the left with Izzie attached to his hip.
“Hey.” He smiles. “Come on in.”
I hesitate. “I, erm... I don’t want to intrude. I’ll just—”
“No, you’re okay. Come in.” He walks ahead of me, disappearing down the hallway he showed up from.
“O—okay,” I reply, stepping onto the marble flooring gingerly, scared I’ll mark it.
I close the door behind me and take one last look around before walking down the hallway he disappeared down that leads into his kitchen.
Izzie is sitting at the table with the pretty blond woman I saw at the gallery night that I now know to be Amelia.
She eyes me and offers me a small smile before getting up and putting out her hand for me to shake. “Hi, I’m Amelia.”
I nod and return her smile and handshake. “Thought as much, the kids are always talking about you. I’m their art teacher—”
“Miss J,” she finishes for me and chuckles. “They’re always talking about you too.” She’s silent for a minute as she looks between Tristan and me, smirking and twirling around to face Izzie at the table. “Come on, Izzie, I haven’t been force-fed cups of tea for a while. Let’s go and set up a tea party.”
Izzie jumps out of her chair, waving at me on the way past before she shouts, “Race you!”
Amelia follows Izzie’s running body out of the room and I chuckle, tearing my eyes away from the hallway and setting them on Tristan who is leaning against the kitchen counter with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Thanks for today,” he murmurs, pushing off the counter and opening one of the cabinet doors, pulling two cups out. “Do you want a drink?”
“Water, please. And you’re more than welcome, we had a lot of fun.” I watch him walk over to the refrigerator, the muscles in his arm rippling as he pulls it open and grabs a bottle of water before shutting the door and turning to hand it to me. “Thanks.” I look down at the condensation on the bottle, my earlier feelings of guilt creeping back into my psyche. “How… How is Clayton?”
His footsteps halt as he walks over to the coffee pot, his back tensing. “He’s sleeping, I…” He makes a noise in his throat and I watch as the back of his head shakes. “I think you and my mom were right.” He turns back to face me when he’s poured his coffee. “I need to get him some help. I can’t let this keep happening.”
“It’s all my fault; I wasn’t thinking when I planned the session.”
I tear my gaze away from him so I don’t realize that he’s moved toward me until I see the front of his boots in my peripheral vision. “It’s not your fault.” His voice is low. “You can’t not plan a session that has something to do with moms because of one child. He needs to learn how to deal with what’s going on in his head, but it’s hard for him. He’s still a kid and I don’t think he fully understands what happened or more importantly, why it happened.”
“I should’ve been more considerate though, I can still picture his face...” My eyes flutter shut at the thought of him holding onto me as if I were the only thing holding him together.
The feel of fingertips against my cheeks shocks me and my eyes fly open, staring into Tris’s. “Harm.” His voice is like a plea and he steps closer, his hands cupping each side of my face now as his thumb swipes away an errant tear that’s making its way down my cheek.
I swallow against his closeness, the air crackling around us as his eyes bore into mine.
“I… I’m sorry,” I say, halfheartedly, my eyes flicking down to his lips. “I don’t know why—”
“You did nothing wrong.” His hand whispers down my face, his thumb running along my bottom lip as his eyes track his movements.
My breath stutters out at his touch and his eyes sparkle as they flit back up to mine, a fleeting thought running behind them before he breathes out and slides his hands away, pocketing them as if trying to stop himself from touching me again.
“I…” I point toward the hallway, not knowing how I should feel about my reaction toward him. Where has all my anger gone? “I should go.”
He scrubs the back of his neck and clears his throat. “Erm… yeah. Thanks again for looking after Izzie. I really appreciate it.”
“Anytime,” I reply, staring at him for a beat before setting the untouched bottle of water on the counter and turning on my heels.
I hear him behind me as he walks me toward the door and I open it, turning to face him and looking around the desolate entryway. “Nice house by the way, have you guys just moved in?”
“No… it was... Natalia’s dream house,” he murmurs, cringing at his own words.
“Oh, it’s... erm. It’s… nice.” Did that come out like a question?
“Yeah… she...” He clears his throat again, shaking his head before shuffling on the spot. “She had big plans for the interior, but we… we never…” His hand reaches up and rubs the back of his neck again awkwardly as we stare at anything but each other’s faces.
I break the silence, needing to get out of here as I’m reminded that he married my old best friend. “Well, I’m sure it would’ve been beautiful.” He lifts his head and as our eyes connect, I see the sadness sitting there but there’s also something else that I can’t quite decipher. Considering I used to know him so well, I’m confused that I can’t work out what is shining in their depths. “So…” I point behind me and he nods in reply before I spin around, taking a couple of steps toward my car.
“Harmony.” His voice travels on the wind and I come to a stop briefly. “I…”
I wait for several seconds, but when he doesn’t say anything else I continue walking toward my car, needing to get out of the awkward atmosphere that has surrounded us.