Getting to experience this moment with Harlow brings back the memory of the time I took her to The River Boat Landing. Somehow I’ve managed to jump in at the best part—the way we skipped straight to dessert all those years ago. I’ve missed out on everything we needed to work through, all the conversations we needed to have—and still do. I’m not even sure if this is all just a dream. If it is, I pray that I never wake up.
I don’t deserve to be here touching her, tasting her, but I’m not going to deny myself the pleasure of it; the way she’s looking at me tells me this is all that matters. The feel of her skin as I trace her scar sends me into an altered state of consciousness. I know what I want, and I’m certain at this moment that Harlow wants it too, but I can’t gloss over that she’s still hurting. How can she not be? But what do you do when you know the person you love is hurting? You go all in and try to make them feel better. The blood coursing through me is setting my skin ablaze. I know without hesitation that if we had sex right now it would feel amazing, and God do I want to, but would it really make things better? Would it be right?
“What’s wrong?” Her voice is small and unsure.
I lift my eyes to hers. “What?”
“You’ve turned pensive all of a sudden.”
I hadn’t realized it, but she’s right. Her arms slowly wrap around her waist, in a movement that signals she’s protecting herself. Is she waiting for me to reject her? Surely not.
I lean forward so I can rest my forehead against hers. “I guess I can’t quite believe this is actually happening.”
My eyes drift closed when I register the warmth of her breath fanning over my neck, and then I let myself remember another time when I felt like this. When all I wanted was to make her feel good.
1998
Harlow was in a bad place the weeks following her heart surgery, and everyone was starting to worry that it was more than just a phase she needed to pass through.
“She’s not returned any of my calls,” Molly exhaled, examining her nail polish as she dangled her legs from the top of the half pipe. She’d found Elliott and me sitting at the skate park. It was dark out, ice practice had finished a couple of hours earlier, but I wasn’t ready to go home. I needed a distraction, something to keep me busy and stop me from obsessing over how to revive Harlow’s spirit. However, the day before had been a good day. The first one in what felt like a while.
“She’s still recovering,” I defended. “I’m sure she’ll call you back when she’s feeling up to it, Molly. She was in good form yesterday; maybe she just forgot that you’d called. Try her again tonight.”
I’d been making excuses for her for the last week or so. It was as if the life was slowly bleeding out of her. If it weren’t for her good mood when we’d gone to one of her follow-up appointments, I’d be more worried. She’d needed to go so that her ICD could be checked, and I’d offered to drive her to give Dianne a break. Harlow’s mom was like superwoman, but I’d overheard her telling my parents that she and Mike had missed a ton of work while they were with Peewee in the hospital. And when Dianne wasn’t trying to catch up on work, she was fussing and running around after her daughter like a headless chicken. The whole Stevens family looked like a fainter, tired version of themselves.
I’d pulled up to Harlow’s doctor’s office, trying to park as close to the entrance as possible. The slightest exertion tired her out and stole her breath something fierce. Every time she walked somewhere or climbed a few stairs it happened, and she looked more and more depressed when it did.
“I know that you like to live an active lifestyle, Harlow, and I’m not saying that you can’t carry on being active, but the levels will need to change. You simply can’t partake in anything physically challenging at the moment. You need to let your body recover. I’m sorry,” Dr. Foster had explained when she’d inquired about upping her exercise.
My chest ached for her. I hated seeing her so downbeat, but, I’d take that any day over the alternative. I’d been having a recurring nightmare since the day Harlow was admitted to the hospital. It started out with her collapsing, just how it happened in reality. Except in my dream when the paramedics showed up, they loaded her into the ambulance and let me ride with her but refused to treat her. I’d be sitting by her side and she’d be unconscious, but gripping my hand tightly, and the paramedics would pronounce her gone, even though I’d be screaming at them that she was squeezing my hand.
The first night I had the dream I woke up covered in a cold sweat, not being able to distinguish whether or not it had actually happened. It unnerved me so much that I left the house and sneaked over to the Stevens’. I’d crept in through the back door and padded as lightly as I could straight to Harlow’s room. I needed to make sure she was still there, that she was okay, and it was all just some horrible dream.
I didn’t wake her once I slipped around her bedroom door. I sat at the end of her bed and watched her sleep for at least an hour. My eyes were fixed on the rise and fall of her chest, making sure that she was breathing right. My mom had once told me that she used to do the same thing with me when I was first born. She’d place me in my crib and then sit and watch me sleep, just to feel secure in the knowledge that I was all right. I’d laughed at my mom when she’d told me that story. I even think I may have told her she was a little nuts.
I didn’t get it then, but I did now. I’d never contemplated how terrifying it could be to love someone. The thought of anything happening to them was too much to bear. So I sat, and I watched Harlow breath in and out, in and out, just like she was supposed to until all thoughts of losing her slipped away.
“So, I should leave my skateboard where it is and probably cancel my swim meets then?” Harlow said with a forced lightness to her voice.
“For now, that would be advisable.” Dr. Foster smiled. “We’ll get you back to being able to do your sports, it’s just going to take a little time. We can discuss it further at your next appointment, okay?”
I looked over to Harlow, and there seemed to be a ghost of a smile pulling up her lips. It was enough for me. I hadn’t seen a genuine smile from her in far too long.
“Okay, thank you,” she answered, pushing her chair back to stand.
“Wait, that’s it? You just wave the paddle over her, and we can go?” I asked confused. I thought her checkup would be decidedly more thorough, given it was her heart that they were making sure was in working order.
“Yes, like I told Harlow, the results are all within an acceptable range, and her incision isn’t giving her any trouble.” The doctor spoke nonchalantly like he was talking about what to have for lunch, and not about my girlfriend’s health. “As long as you’re not experiencing any nausea or shortness of breath when you’re not doing anything, I’m happy. Of course, if you do start to present any of the symptoms that we discussed, Harlow, I’d like you to call right away so we can have you checked over.”
She grabbed my hand and gave it a gentle squeeze in reassurance.
“Yep, I know. Thank you, Dr. Foster.”
I followed her out of the room and back into the waiting area while she booked her next appointment. We were the youngest people in the room, by far. The folks that sit in cardio clinics generally look like they need to be sitting there. Harlow didn’t, and I think that’s what scared me the most because looks can be deceiving. I didn’t know what was going on inside her body.
“You alright? You’re acting strange,” she asked as we climbed into the beat up old Honda I’d bought the day after I passed my driving test. The faded red body had more rust than metal, but she had a good reliable engine that ran smooth. It occurred to me that I’d picked a car that was exactly the opposite of my girlfriend.
“I’m good, I was just expecting that to take a while longer. I think I’d have preferred it if he’d taken his time and had a better look at you,” I admitted.
“What, so you’re openly telling me you wish he’d have checked me out nice and slow while you watched?” she asked and shook her head. “Dirty boy.”
I laughed at her attempt at a wink. Harlow could pull most things off quite well, but winking wasn’t one of them. She hadn’t mastered how to not make it look as though she had a nervous twitch or dust in her eyes. I loved it.
I pretended to mull the thought over and nodded my head with a smirk.
“You little perv!”
“You brought it up,” I quipped as she buckled herself into the seat. “But seriously, though, that didn’t seem very thorough. I guess they know what they’re doing better than I do, right?”
“Of course, now stop worrying. I’m alright,” she smiled. It was a bright, toothy, sincere one. The kind that used to be permanently etched onto her face, and it made me want to take advantage of her lighter mood.
“You wanna go on a date with me, H?”
Her eyes and nose crinkled adorably in confusion. “What, tonight?
“Nope, like right now.”
“Um, sure. What do you have in mind?”
I moved over my seat and cupped her face, pressing her head back onto the rest and kissing her like I’d been wanting to since she’d come home. My mouth moved over hers, reveling in her taste. I nipped at her bottom lip until she gasped and then moved back to my own seat, hoping I’d left her wanting more.
“You’ll see.”
I headed to The River Boat Landing. It looked like a small, rustic Italian restaurant, with its pale blue walls, red awnings and mini private balconies that looked out over the water. It served all of Harlow’s favorite foods. Lunchtimes were always quieter than evenings, so I was hoping we’d get lucky and be able to grab a balcony seat.
“You’re scoring points already, Mr. Hughes. I love this place,” she said with a grin. The waiter had gone to see if there was a balcony free, and he waved us over a few seconds later.
“I don’t think I could ever get tired of this view,” I mused, once our drink order had been taken.
“I know, right? I love the water. There’s something so soothing about listening to the waves crash against the deck, don’t you think?”
Her head was turned toward the river, and the breeze was blowing her crazy hair away from her face. She was watching people walk by, some were families out with their children, some, tourists admiring the boats moored up and posing for photos.
I hadn’t been talking about the view from the balcony; I’d been talking about the one sitting in front of me.
“Yeah, I do.” My eyes dropped to her hand mindlessly rubbing at the spot where I knew her scar was. Apart from a few chaste glimpses here and there, I hadn’t really gotten a close look at it. I could tell she didn’t want me to see it, which bothered me a little. I didn’t know if it was because she wasn’t comfortable with it herself yet or something else, so I’d let it slide and didn’t press her. She would in time, I hoped.
Harlow turned back to me and noticed where my gaze was focused. She immediately stopped rubbing the spot and adjusted the collar of her blue striped shirt, making sure that everything was covered, just so.
“I think I’m going to order dessert first,” I announced, trying to keep the atmosphere from turning somber.
“You can’t, that’s the wrong way around. You’ll spoil your lunch.”
“Nope, I disagree. I’m looking forward to dessert way more than I am a club sandwich. Why delay the gratification? You only live once, and I want apple pie and pecan ice cream.” I sat back in my chair and pushed my menu away—watching a bemused look take over her beautiful face.
“Okay, in that case, I guess I’ll have the same.”
“You can’t, it’s the wrong way around,” I mocked in a high-pitched girly voice.
She stuck her tongue out and blew an enormous raspberry, right as the waiter appeared with our drinks. Her face immediately turned the same color as the bright red napkin she’d placed over her knees.
“Nice!”
“Shut up, Ellis,” she whisper-shouted, although her embarrassed grin gave away that she’d found it almost as funny as I had.
By the time our sandwiches arrived, we’d gorged ourselves on our super-sized apple pie, and I couldn’t finish my first bite. Harlow hadn’t even attempted to pick her sandwich up.
“I think I ate too much ice cream,” she exhaled and slumped back into her chair. “I kind of want to undo the button on my shorts now, and take a nap.”
“I could go for a nap,” I agreed.
“See, this is why you shouldn’t eat dessert first. I’m stuffed, and I haven’t eaten one thing that can be construed as remotely healthy. My doctors are going to be so proud,” she groaned.
“Apples are fruit,” I supplied and laughed at the overly dramatic eye roll I received in answer. “Let’s get these bagged up to go, and we can head down to the beach and lay on the sand. I won’t even complain if you want to unbutton your shorts, or you know what? I promise not to grumble if you feel like you just want to go right ahead and take them off completely. I’m a gentleman like that.”
“I can think of a few things, Ellis, but a gentleman wouldn’t be one of them. Try horn dog, or pervert.”
“I prefer sexual deviant, it makes me sound badass.”
“No baby, not badass…just a regular ass.”
I loved the easy banter we’d fallen into—it made things feel like normal.
We had the food bagged and made our way down to the beach, walking at a leisurely, slow pace while people-watching and commenting on what we thought their lives were like behind closed doors. It was one of Harlow’s favorite games when we were out and about. She’d make up ridiculously intricate, and speculative assumptions about what people got up to in their spare time. With each person she commented on, the story grew wilder.
An enormously built guy that looked like a linebacker who’d snap you in two with no effort, but secretly cried at Disney films. Or, a mousey, bookish-looking woman would lead a double life as a dominatrix for wealthy high-flying corporate suits who liked to dress in diapers and be led around their homes on a leash at the weekends. My girl had a vivid, and sometimes scarily warped imagination.
“You want to sit here?” I directed her over to where the rocks made a little cove, partially shielding us from sight.
“Sure, looks good.”
I dropped down onto the sand, grabbing hold of her waist and pulling her with me so that she landed in my lap. I loved it when she straddled me. I could quite happily spend the rest of my life with her legs wrapped around me, and her face pressed close to mine.
“I think we should stay here and make out until the tide comes in. You game?”
“People are walking about, they’ll see.”
In all honesty, I didn’t give a damn if people could see us or not. I pressed my lips to her throat and began planting lazy kisses in a path toward her jaw.
“You’re not playing fair,” she murmured, tilting her head back, exposing more of her skin. “I’ve missed this.”
I carried on with my task, up and over her jaw until I made my way to her lips. “Me too,” I whispered before pulling her closer and separating the seam of her mouth with my tongue. “So damn much.”
I could feel her heart drumming against my chest and pulled back, worried. Her eyes opened slowly, her lips looked swollen as she caught her breath.
“What’s wrong, Ellis? Why did you stop?” She pulled back to see me better.
“Your heart’s racing so hard I could feel it against my chest, and you seem out of breath.”
She grabbed my hand and placed it over her heart, and then took hold of my other, and placed it against my own.
“It’s not just me, Ellis.”
I waited for a few seconds, trying to register if my own erratic heartbeat felt any different from hers, and she was right. It was drumming just as fast, and I was out of breath from kissing her, too.
“You always make my heart beat faster, especially when you’re kissing me like I’m the last meal you’ll ever have. I’m fine. You don’t need to worry that you’re about to trip my ICD by putting the moves on me.”
I felt like kind of an idiot.
“I’m sorry, H, I just panicked that I might be hurting you.”
“You know, when I had the ICD fitted, and the doctors explained about resting and not over doing things—they gave me a list of stuff to avoid. It was the usual, no running, no high-impact sports, no extreme sports, you know the kind of thing. When they finished, I sat for ages wondering about sex and kicking myself for not asking. I didn’t want them to think I was some sort of slut.”
She grinned.
“I finally got the balls to ask and called in one of the nurses. She didn’t even flinch, just told me that most everyone asked that question too, which made me feel like much less of a brazen hussy. Anyway, it’s fine as long as I don’t overexert myself. So, unless, Mr. Hughes, you intend on working through the karma sutra with me, you don’t need to worry.”
I wanted to cry out in relief. I’d been wondering about it for weeks, but what kind of insensitive asshole asks the “what about sex” question when their girlfriend’s recovering from heart surgery? Plus, up until today, Harlow wasn’t acting like she even wanted to be looked at, never mind touched.
I pressed my forehead to hers. “That’s pretty awesome news, but I’m okay with whatever you want to do, whenever you want to do it. I wanna take things at your pace.”
“I’ll tell you if I need a break, but right now what I need is for you to kiss me again. Make me feel like myself.”
She asked, so I obliged. We spent the rest of the day like I’d joked—making out at the beach until the sun started to dip in the sky and the waves began rolling in.