Hello, Harrison
Harrison
Almost 3 Years Later…
Maggie, my precious baby sister, is one beautiful bride. Thinking back to the many times I made sure to scare the boys off her, I smile. Brayden would not be deterred, though, even when I came home on leave to personally threaten him.
Regardless, I am overjoyed for her and Brayden. They have gone through hell and back to share this day, and I couldn’t be happier. At the same time, I feel like someone has placed a pallet of bricks on my chest.
Seeing them get married, I’m more than ready for my life to get serious and really start a family. At thirty, I finally found a place I call home in Charlotte, North Carolina. I’m comfortably living near my sister, my friends, and I have my dream job at Ryder’s garage. Everything seems to be falling in place, except that there is no one to share it with.
Sophia, one of Maggie’s bridesmaids and close friends, has occupied a lot of my time lately. She is beautiful, intelligent, independent, strong, talented, stubborn, and just amazing. We met a little over two years ago when I first moved to Charlotte. I wanted some new ink, so Maggie sent me to her. Now we have a mutual and beneficial friends-with-a-little-something-more relationship.
Tonight, the atmosphere of love, holding her, caressing her, and dancing with her leaves me craving so much more. For two people who have talked about everything under the sun, we have purposely avoided the topic of us. She knows more about me than my own family, yet I can’t find the balls to ask for a more serious commitment than sex.
Our friends and my family know we are hooking up, yet aren’t an actual couple. The plus to that is I can kiss her freely right here at my sister’s wedding, and no one will gasp in surprise, so that is what I do, losing myself in her plump, soft, luscious lips. The downside to this is there will always be those questions of when we are going to be real with each other about our fear of titles and commitment. As the saying goes, If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it. At least, that’s what I tell myself.
Looking up after my kiss with Sophia, I find the warm eyes of my mother watching me. She makes her way over, cutting in to dance with me, and Sophia easily moves away, excusing herself to the restroom.
“Son, what are you and Sophia doing? It’s obvious you both adore one another, so why are you two wasting time by playing with one another’s emotions? Tomorrow isn’t promised, Harry.”
I shake my head, not knowing how to answer her. “I don’t know what to do about her. Yes, I want more, but we’ve never talked about it. I get the feeling she doesn’t want that right now, but then again, I don’t know.”
Does she finally want that? To have more than the amazing sex we share?
My mom smiles. “It’s simple—figure it out. You ask, she answers, and then you know.”
It’s simple, my ass. Nothing about Sophia Rosalinda Lopez is simple. Figure it out, that’s easier said than done. Just thinking of her makes me miss having her close.
After the dance with my mother, I go in search of Sophia, finding her chatting with Maggie. I smile, knowing my sister would approve of us being together-together. Sophia fits in with my family.
Tonight is not the night to share my feelings, though. Tonight is about Maggie and Brayden. I will take her out to dinner, have a romantic date, and tell her I’m ready for more another time.
When it is time for the bride and groom to leave, I walk with my arm wrapped around Sophia, smiling.
“Hello, Harrison.”
I look up when I recognize the voice saying my name and freeze, so many bottled thoughts and emotions barreling to the surface.
It’s been three years since I heard that voice tell me I am “a has-been jarhead” and a working-class piece of shit. My blood runs cold.
What the hell?
***
Tiffany
From as far back as I can remember, there wasn’t a moment of my life where Matt hadn’t been a part of it. He was a year older than me and the big brother I never officially had since our dads, being long-time friends and business partners, raised us together as a family. He’s my very best friend, my confidant, and my protector.
Growing up in Beaufort, South Carolina, we were surrounded in southern, small-town tradition, living a sheltered life. Our parents’ real estate investment firm has always been quite profitable. Even in a down-turned economy, we never went without life’s luxuries. I never knew what it was like to want for material objects.
As we got older, I was afraid to be myself, to find myself. I made sure to be Daddy’s southern belle—quiet, classy, and confident—while Matt wanted to forge his own path.
The plan was for us to go to USC together. At least, that was my plan for us. He started college as if we were on the same path, and then, before anyone could stop him, Matt enlisted in the United State Marine Corps.
Our dads were heartbroken and angry. As for me, I was happy he had found the guts to get away from the stuffiness of our upper-class upbringings. Matt never aspired to be another asshole in a suit. He wanted to see the world, experience life to the fullest.
He spoke of the Marines as being a way out, as well as a way to serve his country, but I didn’t take him seriously. Honestly, I thought it was all teenage angst and talk, so I never thought Matt would actually leave. I applauded him for going after the opportunity to get away. I just wish he could have taken me with him.
The day he left for boot camp is a day engraved in my memory. My father forbid me to go see him off. Of course I didn’t listen, meeting Matt at the recruiter’s office for his van ride to Paris Island.
Right before he got in the vehicle, he hugged me tightly and whispered, “Hold tight, Tiff. Things are going to be rough for a bit. I’ll write to you, so look for it.” He knew my dad wouldn’t willingly give me the letters. “Go to college, get good grades, and all that, but find yourself. Stop being who they want you to be and just be you.” Then, with his trademark kiss on the forehead, he was gone.
True to his word, he wrote. It wasn’t often enough, but it was something.
He made a buddy, and in his letters, he told me about him.
Lawson is wild and free. His family writes him constantly. His dad was a Marine, too. He was a little too wild for a few years after high school, so he joined to straighten out his life.
I wonder what it would be like to have grown up with a supportive family, not one full of expectations.
Lawson and I push each other to get through. It’s exhausting here, both mentally and physically.
I’m thankful for your letters, Tiff. They help me get by.
Graduation is coming up soon. I hope you can make it. If not, I will see you after school when I get some leave.
Take care, baby girl,
Matt
Matt’s family, still not accepting his decision, refused to attend his graduation, so I went alone.
My life changed that day. Not in the way Matt’s did, but it was a change in my heart, because graduation day was the day I met Harrison James Lawson.
Now, here I stand, nine years later, facing Harrison and the Lawson family. Once again, I’m not prepared for what seeing him does to me. It’s been three years, but not one single day has gone by that I haven’t thought of him.
This is for Matt, I tell myself.
Focusing on calming my breathing, I gather my courage.
“Hello, Harrison,” I say, watching as the man I can’t let go holds another woman tightly to him.