Luke

Me: Morning, beautiful. Any big plans for your day off?

I smile as I see the moving dots on my text screen, signaling that Harper is sending me a reply. I wanted to text her an hour ago but made myself hold off until now. She needs to get as much sleep as she can, even if I’m anxious to see her.

Harper: Nope. I mean, my sock drawer could always use some organizing, but I’m open to other suggestions.

Me: Perfect. I’ll pick you up in an hour.

Harper: See you soon.

Pocketing my phone, I walk into the kitchen to fix my second cup of coffee for the day. As excited as I am to be spending the day with Harper, I’m also nervous. The plans I have for us aren’t fun. I wish they were. Harper needs some fun. But today is the day I lay everything out in the open for her.

Today is the day I tell her the truth about my past.

Today is the day I fully give myself to the woman I love.

Today could be the day she rejects me and leaves me forever, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.

When I knock on Layla and Connor’s door, I’m greeted with a smile and a hug from Harper’s best friend. I really like Layla, and I’m grateful for how supportive she’s been of Harper.

“Come in, Luke. Harper’s just getting her bag. I’m glad you’re finally here, because she just will not shut up about you.” The grin on her face is mischievous and earns a reaction from Harper, which I’m guessing was the objective.

“She also changed outfits at least four times,” Layla adds.

“Shut it, Layla,” Harper fusses when she walks into the living room. “I only changed three times.” She smiles then gives me a quick kiss on the lips.

“You don’t have to change clothes for me. I think you’re perfect no matter what,” I murmur in her ear before kissing it, loving how her body melds into mine.

“Alright, you two. Get out. All this PDA is making me nauseous,” Layla commands.

“Serves you right.” Harper gives Layla a pointed look, then yells over her shoulder as we walk out the door, “Don’t wait up.”

We hold hands as we walk outside, and I revel in the realization of how normal it feels to be with her like this. I like it. A whole fucking lot.

“Where are we going?” she asks, leaning into my arm.

“I thought we’d take a taxi over to the park we went to the first time we met for pizza.”

She beams up at me. “I love that place.”

It’s not what I’d like to be doing with her today, but it’s what I need to do with her today. She needs to know everything about me before we go any further. I thought about taking her to my apartment, but it’s too distracting. I’d just want to kiss her and one thing would lead to another and we’d be naked.

Mr. Chan’s is too personal.

So, the park it is.

When I look back down at her and there’s still a small smile on her lips, I can’t help leaning over and kissing her. She stops and places her hands on my cheeks, holding me in place.

“We could just go to your apartment,” she suggests.

I can’t help but laugh at her forwardness and deepen the kiss. Forcing myself to pull away, I rest my forehead against hers. “I would love nothing more than to take you to my apartment and lose myself in you for the rest of my life,” I whisper against her lips. “But first, I have some things I need to tell you.”

My lips find hers again, then I turn back toward the road and hail the first taxi I see. When we finally get to the park and make it to my favorite bench, we both sit. For a second, I feel nervous about what I’m getting ready to say, but then I remember this is Harper and she’s it for me. She’s worth all the truths in the world. She deserves all the honesty I can give her.

“Sawyer was my best friend, girlfriend,” I begin. “She was the girl I thought I was going to marry one day—the only person I knew who didn’t care about my circumstances. She didn’t care that my mom abandoned me and left me with my alcoholic father. She just liked me for me. We went to college together, and things were great, or so I thought. I knew she was stressed and struggling to keep her grades up during our junior year, but I didn’t know how bad things were until she came to me one day. She was inconsolable, so distraught. I’d never seen her like that. She admitted that she had started taking drugs, but she was trying to quit.” I pause, letting out a sharp laugh. The feelings are still so real. “I felt so stupid. I was raised by an alcoholic, for crying out loud. How did I not know my girlfriend was using?”

Harper sits so still, hanging on every word I’m telling her.

“I told her that I’d help her, and she agreed to quit cold turkey. After the first few weeks, things seemed to be back to normal, so I started pricing engagement rings. I mean, if we could make it through her detox, we could survive anything, right?”

I pause and try to get control of my emotions. I think about Sawyer every day, but talking about her like this tears open old wounds and makes the pain fresh again.

“She eventually started using again, but the drugs were harder. She flunked out of school, was in debt up to her eyeballs, and was a complete mess. Nothing I said or did helped. I was close to graduating with my psychology degree and used everything I’d learned to try to get her to stop using. She was miserable. We both were, but I wasn’t about to give up on her. If I couldn’t help her, I was going to find someone who could.

“One night, we got into a huge fight, the worst we’d ever had. I did something horrible. I...I gave her an ultimatum. I told her if she didn’t get clean, I was going to leave her. It was a lie, but I didn’t know what else to do. I was trying to motivate her to check into a rehab center I’d found. She completely broke down and promised she’d let me take her the next day. Of course, now I know I should’ve taken her that very minute, but I was so relieved that she’d agreed to go that I didn’t think waiting a few more hours would hurt.” Shaking my head, I look down at my hands that are now shaking.

“I was so wrong. The next morning, I found her dead in our bathtub. She’d overdosed on pain pills.”

Tears are running down my face, but I don’t care. I look at Harper, and she’s crying too. I hope this isn’t too much for her with all that she’s been through these past couple of weeks. I know it hits home, but I just need her to know...everything.

“I failed her, Harper. I couldn’t even help my own girlfriend. Every patient I’ve ever had has been a way for me to make up for everything I did wrong with Sawyer. I know I’ve helped people and that I can only do so much, but it’s still a punch in the gut when a patient of mine starts using again.” I pause for a minute, taking a deep breath and trying to get myself together. “I failed Sadie, just like Sawyer.”

“No.” Harper’s voice is thick and gravelly due to her crying, but her words are strong. “Don’t you dare blame yourself for her mistakes. She and Sawyer made their own choices, Luke. You tried your best. I have no doubt you did the same with Sawyer, but their deaths are not your fault.”

I nod my head, but don’t say anything for a while. Telling Harper about Sawyer was hard, but I’m still not finished. One more confession, and I’ll be able to breathe again.

“After Sawyer died, I told myself I’d never get romantically involved with a woman again. My mom left me. Sawyer left me. I didn’t have it in me to allow someone else in, only for them to leave me too. I became bitter and lonely, but eventually, I craved the affection...the release. I needed an outlet. I knew my heart couldn’t take being broken again, so I made the decision to simply use women for sex. We’d both get off, without any strings attached, and it wouldn’t affect my life outside of my apartment. I paid for most of their services to further the emotional distance between us even more. It became very technical. I’d meet a woman, bring her to my place, fuck her in my living room for whomever to see, and send her on her way. I was simply going through the motions...until I met you.”

Harper takes a deep, shaky breath and it’s enough to bring me out of my thoughts.

Pulling her to me, I have the intense need to take it all away—erase it, make it better—but I know I can’t change the past. I can’t change the shit that’s happened in my life or in hers. Thanks to my sessions with Caren, I’ve come to realize that there are things in life that we can’t fix. All we can do is carry on, keep going, and hope that eventually we find happiness.

Harper is my happiness.

She’s the silver lining in a lifetime of gray clouds.

I hope I can be that for her. I hope this is the beginning and not the end. I hope that my truth isn’t too much for her to bear. “I’m sorry,” I whisper into her hair. The apology is for anything and everything—for hurting her, for thinking I could use other women to forget the ones I love, and for thinking I’d be better off without her all those months ago. I’m not. I’m better with her. She makes me feel things I thought I’d never feel again. She makes me feel better about myself.

“I’m sorry too,” Harper says as she exhales into my neck.

“What are you sorry for?” I ask her, holding her tighter, wanting to pull her onto my lap because I can’t seem to get close enough.

“I’m sorry she left you and broke you.” She wraps her arms around me, gripping the back of my jacket.

We sit there for a while, letting the cool breeze whip around us. Harper doesn’t pull away from me but instead burrows deeper into me, giving me hope that the truth might bring us closer.

I exhale, feeling lighter and freer than I have in a long time. There’s just one more thing I need to do today before I can finally take her home.

“Are you up for one more stop?” I ask, pushing her hair back so I can see her face. Her eyes are still watery with emotions, but she smiles at me and it gives me the strength to go on. “I have one more place to take you.”

“Wherever you go, that’s where I want to be.” Her eyes close and I place a soft kiss to her cheek, breathing her in.

What I did to deserve her, I’ll never know.

Ten minutes later, we’re back in a taxi headed to Atria, an assisted living facility. Nervously, I glance over to see Harper, but she seems completely at ease. When we get out of the taxi, Harper looks up at the building. Her nose scrunches up, and I can tell by the expression on her face that she’s confused.

She’s adorable.

And sexy.

I don’t know how she can be both at once, but she succeeds.

“So, are we visiting someone?” she asks, catching me looking at her.

“Yeah.” I swallow hard and take a deep breath. This is never easy for me, but today is different. This is me being vulnerable—showing Harper everything that’s left to see. There’s also a selfish part too; the part that knows I needed to come here and didn’t want to do it alone. For the first time in a long time, I want someone else with me. I want her with me. I’ve shut people out for so long, but not anymore.

I’m letting Harper in.

“I can tell you’re nervous, but don’t be,” she says, taking my hand in hers. “Whatever this is, I’m okay with it.”

The understanding and acceptance that’s there almost knocks me on my ass. Squeezing her hand tightly, I pull her into my side. “Thank you.”

We walk inside and stop at the desk. I pull out my driver’s license and hand it to the receptionist. “Luke Walker, here to see Stephen Walker,” I tell her and feel Harper tense beside me. Now she’s the one squeezing, letting me know she’s there.

“Your father is in his room. Visiting hours end at six o’clock.”

Harper doesn’t say anything on our short walk down to the room. When we get there, before I open the door, I look down and am met with her knowing eyes. They’re telling me everything I need to know: it’s okay, and she’s not going anywhere.

I tap on the door and then open it. “Dad?”

Someone who resembles the man I once knew turns around from the chair he’s sitting in and tilts his head as he looks at us. His hair is completely gray, and the worry lines around his eyes and mouth are more pronounced. The way he hunches over in his chair makes him appear at least ten years older than he actually is.

“It’s Luke, Dad,” I tell him as I walk into the room. Harper follows behind me, her hand still securely in mine. He frowns, but then I see a glimpse of recognition on his face and a small smile. His eyes drift from me to Harper, and they soften as he takes her in. “This is Harper.”

“Hi, Mr. Walker,” Harper says, taking an extra step toward him and offering him her hand. He reaches out and shakes it, and moisture gathers in his eyes. She begins to talk to him, and he watches her. I see she has the same effect on him as she does on me, and I smile.

It took me years to come to terms with Stephen my father, and Stephen the alcoholic. When he was sober, which wasn’t often, he was a loving, caring man. He’d spend time with me and teach me things. He was also sweet to my mother. I remember seeing them dancing in the kitchen or holding hands on the front porch. But the alcoholic was mean and cruel, and my mother took the brunt of that cruelty.

I realize now that she left to save herself. Why she didn’t take me with her, I’ll never know. Part of me thinks she was so broken when she left that she didn’t feel like she could take care of anyone but herself.

I turn to the board by the window and scan it for a new postcard. There’s one in the top corner that has a picture of statuesque redwoods on it, and I’m sure I haven’t seen it before. Flipping it over, I read the postmark—Orick, CA—and see it’s dated September 18th, 2017. Just like all the other postcards filling this board, there’s a simple dash with an elegant E written on the back.

“Who are you?” my dad asks suddenly. This usually happens. At first, he’ll remember me, and then it’s like his mind resets, and he doesn’t know me from Adam.

“It’s Luke, Dad.”

“I don’t know you.” His voice gets more frantic as he tries to stand up from his chair.

“Dad,” I soothe, walking closer and placing my hand on his shoulder. “You’re fine. We’ll go.”

“I don’t know you,” he says again, his voice a little softer and sadder.

“It’s okay. We just wanted to come by and see how you’re doing. We’re gonna go now.” I continue talking in the calm voice. When I was here a few weeks ago, he did the same thing. One minute, we were talking about fishing, and the next minute, he was angry and thought I was someone I’m not.

Harper steps over toward the door and waits for me. I put the postcard back on the board and walk out. Once again, Harper’s hand slips into mine. I look back to see my dad completely in his own world, mumbling to himself. A pang of guilt hits me in my chest, but then I let it go. I squeeze tighter to Harper’s hand and begin walking back down the hallway.

“I don’t know what’s worse, the alcoholism or the Alzheimer’s.”

She lets out a deep breath and leans her head onto my shoulder. “What was that postcard you were looking at?” she asks.

“Those are from my mother. She started sending them about five years ago. Every few months, one shows up from a different city, sometimes a different country. I guess it’s her way of letting me know she’s alive.”

“That’s better than not knowing.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “I guess it is.”

“And your dad?”

“He’s been here for six years. The forgetfulness started a long time ago, but due to the alcohol, it took a while for the doctors to diagnose him. He advanced pretty quickly, but this place has helped.”

After we’re in the taxi, Harper leans her head against the seat and looks over at me. “Thank you for today.”

I laugh wryly, shaking my head. “I should be thanking you.”

“No, because I know it’s hard for you to let people in. So, thank you for not pushing me away and for showing me a piece of you.”

“This is all the pieces of me,” I tell her, with every ounce of sincerity I can muster. I take her hand and place it to my lips. “I want you, Harper. I’m never pushing you away again... I’m here as long as you’ll have me.”

Today was hard, but I owed this to her. After all we’ve been through and the things she’s seen, she deserved to know the truth.

I love her.

I’m not sure if she can love me back, but I’m willing to take the risk.