HER | ✓

⍣Nineteen⍣

"I'm sorry," Farah cried when George reentered the room. "I'm so sorry."

She sat on the edge of the bed, her makeup smeared down her face and she held a pillow tight to her chest.

"I should've just went along with it. I'm so sorry."

He locked the door and pulled on his hair.

"No don't apologize, please. I shouldn't have dragged you into this," he replied. He looked at her as she cried uncontrollably. "Come here, I can't stand to see you like this. It's all my fault."

He opened his arms and she walked right into them, pillow and all.

"It'll be alright," he soothed rubbing her back. "It was only a matter of time before I needed to tell them. I mean who am I kidding? I couldn't live my whole life keeping it a secret. Anyways, we'll need to leave today, okay?" She sniffled into his chest and nodded her head.

A bang came to the door. She flinched back.

"George, come out this instance!" Harry yelled. 

She looked at George and he shook his head. He wasn't going to answer the door, not even if someone paid him to do it. He knew what would unfold if he did.

"Why didn't you tell me about Clayton?" George asked.

She looked away. "I couldn't. I didn't want anyone to know. Not even my mother knows."

"All of this probably wouldn't have happened if you told me. I could've prevented it."

"Yeah but think about all the other stuff that would've been stirred up if I did."

"It might have been better than this scenario," he said waving his hand to the door his father was still banging on.

"Why so you could still hide behind someone about your sexaulality?" She broke from the hug and sat back on the bed.

He sighed knowing she was right.

The door cracked and Harry burst through it. Wood splinters flew through the air. Farah screamed and hid behind the pillow. Harry looked around the room with wild eyes until they landed on George. He stalked up to him and George tried to run. Harry dove after him. He dodged to the right and Harry fell to the floor.

"I'll get you," Harry said picking himself up. George watched as he came closer, formulating an escape plan in his mind and made a running leap for the bed. Harry caught his leg mid air and brought George back to the ground. Harry held him by the neck of his shirt and slammed his fist into his face. All George heard was the sound of Farah's screaming and crying. His vision started turning fuzzy after the third punch and the last thing he saw before his vision turned black was his mom's horrified face and Clayton rushing in to pull Harry off of him.

George slumped to the bed, his face covered in blood.

"What in gods name have you done?" Martha said through tears of anger. She walked to Harry and slapped him hard against his face, the crack resounded through the room and Martha rushed to George's aid.

Harry blinked away the slap and looked at his bloody fists and his sons face. He walked out of the room without saying a word. His heart held nothing but anger and disappointment. 

"Get me water and rags," Martha demanded. Farah jumped to her demand and found what she could.

"Wake up George," Martha pleaded shaking his shoulder. 

"Whoa..." Charlotte said from outside the hallway looking in. Whoa was right.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

Later that evening George was walking about the doorless room packing his things up in a hurry. Martha was following him back and forth across the room pleading with him to stay another day.

"Just give him a day to cool off. He'll come around," she said.

"No he won't and this-" He pointed at the baseball sized blue and purple blob on his face. "-is proof that he won't." 

"That was just the heat of the moment. He hasn't stopped to think about what's done yet."

"Stop defending him!" He snapped.

She stumbled back, stunned by his words and put her fingers to her lips. He turned his back and continued grabbing piles of clothes and stuffing them into his bag. He couldn't believe how much he'd packed to come here. When he looked behind him again his mother wasn't there.

"I'm done packing Charlotte's bag," Farah said when she entered the room. "When do we catch our flight?"

George looked at the watch on his wrist. "In two hours."

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

In Clayton's quarter of the house, he paced around the room, packing his own things. He didn't want to be around here any more than the next person would after this.

When he was done packing he sat on his bed and looked at his phone on the bedside table. He picked it up and went through the numbers he had in his contacts. There were quite a few, most of them from returning clients, but one stuck out to him.

Barbara.

He hadn't spoken to Barbara since the day she left his house. He wanted to feel guilty about all that happened. He wanted to feel like he cheated on her but he didn't. It wasn't like they truly finalized their status. They enjoyed each other's company for one night. But still his finger hovered over her contact, daring to reach out and make a call to her.

His finger came down, tapping the screen. He put the phone to his ear and listened to it ring.

"Hello?" Barbara's soft voice filtered through the phone. It almost didn't sound like her.

"Hey, It's Clayton."

"Oh, hey!" She sounded surprised like she hadn't expected him to ever call her.

"Would you like to meet up for lunch in a couple days?" He asked.

"Yeah sure. Just let me know when and where." She sounded like she was smiling.

"Sounds good. Merry Christmas by the way."

"Merry Christmas."

It wasn't a very merry christmas.

⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆⋆

George lugged everything out to the car and smashed it all into the trunk. He didn't care how it got there he just wanted gone.

"Come on Farah," he rushed.

"Just give me a second to get her coat zipped up."

"We don't have a second. We have a flight to catch in a little over an hour and it takes an hour to drive there."

"Okay, okay!" She threw her hands in the air and left Charlotte's coat unzipped. They piled into George's rental car and drove off.

She looked in the rearview mirror at the house as it was fading into the background. She wished she could have said goodbye to Clayton. It was like the summer of 2005 all over again. Except this time she knew she wouldn't lose him. This she was certain of.