Haven • H.S.

35. Welcome Home

Haven- 35

"...all of the lights land on you. the rest of the world fades from view... and all of the love i see, please, please say you feel it too..."

Ella.

It'd been five days before the loss caught up with me. I'd pushed it aside, plausibly, of course considering Uncle Ben still needed medical attention and I was the only one there to stay by Aunt Kate's side. But on a few occasions I'd felt as if I had to be the one hospitalized. Did they hospitalize people for empty hearts and prickly nerves?

Apparently not. It was a lonely business.

On the six day, I left Manhattan, and the drive to Boston seemed too short. I'd been worried it'd seem too long, but apparently there wasn't ever enough time to catalog one's thoughts. And I'd always had quite some difficulty with that.

Boston seemed achingly unfamiliar when I navigated my way through the absurdly narrow streets and onto Harvard campus, parking far enough away from Building F entrance, in attempt to take one step at a time. This was it. I had no where to hide anymore. I couldn't confide in my Aunt's motivational speeches or my newly recuperated Uncle's kisses on the cheek. This was real life, and I'd left it behind long enough.

Every time I thought about the gift of love, and the miracle to be loved, I realized I'd made a mistake leaving so fruitlessly. What if it would never present itself to me again, and I'd only had one chance. What if I blew it?

My Aunt Kate knew the extent of what I'd been comfortable enough to tell her. That included none of Harry's breath-stealing kisses, or his soft, undeserving words. It excluded every piece of his heart that he'd handed over to me, and his beautiful green eyes. Basically I'd explained the shell of Harry. The exterior, and the first thing you saw when you looked at him. I explained to her what you'd see before you really got to see him. Internally. Passionately.

She'd told me what I'd imagine my mother would say, granted she was still alive. "Honey, I don't know what type of life you plan on living, but if a boy that beautiful comes into it, you better plan on holding him tight."

I didn't have the ability to refute that.

My Uncle Ben hadn't been any easier. When he came to, his wife filled him in on my... personal dilemmas before I could even reach the floor from getting coffee in the cafeteria. He'd smiled softly, somewhat dazed from sleeping so long, and he'd said, "Whatever your Aunt Kate said, stick with it, muffin. She knows best most of the time."

Aunt Kate had grinned at that, watching her husband with something so akin to the look Harry'd give me day in, day out. I'd felt a tug in my chest. "All the time, babe," she'd said, looking back at me. "I know best all the time."

It'd been good to see them. It'd been sweet on my soul but hard on my heart. Seeing Ben in the position he'd been in, which turned out to be a ruptured Achilles' tendon that had had to be operated on immediately upon discovery, it brought back too much. Too much that I'd always wished I could push down. Ben had made it through his accident, and his wife was healthy, at his side. That was more than I could say for my own parents.

But then, in the sterilized floors and bright lights of that hospital room, I realized one thing. I didn't want to push my parents' memory down anymore. I felt free, suddenly, to honor it. I wouldn't have to continue letting the thought of their death beat me down, if only I had someone by my side to pull me out of the water every once in a while when I felt like drowning. Harry.

And now, I felt nervous, to put it in simple context. I didn't get nervous often, but I'd be able to point out the feeling from miles away. I got nervous the first time Harry kissed me. I got nervous telling Harry about my parents. I got nervous over small things that seemed monumental; that was just how it was. He was in there, Building F. My life was in there. And I didn't know whether I was walking in on a suicide bombing or saving what was left of a crumbling relationship.