PRECIPICE [h.s.]

Chapter Forty Four*

☼☼☼

Is it casual now?

I know what you tell your friends

It's casual, if it's casual now

Then, baby, get me off again

If it's casual

☼☼☼

Jaime's P.O.V.

August 16th 1997

To call Harry's vacation home a "house" would be a massive understatement. It's a mansion. You can fit three of my houses inside and that would only cover the first floor. I hate it. It represents everything I hate about summer and the arrogant fucks who blow in and out of this town with the warm weather. Anyone else would probably wonder why we didn't spend more time here, but I'm good not knowing. There are a bunch of answers. He doesn't want me to meet his family, for one. Not that they sound like the best people, but standing in the living room seeing proof of life, I can't help but think about the whole side of him I would never meet.

To most, this would look like a showroom set up for this house to be sold. It is tidy. My eyes catch the small pink and blue life vests for kids and boogie boards that weren't put away properly - a small sign of life. Unless his family plans on coming back down, those things will blow away before October. But I guess some lessons have to be learned the hard way. They could try to keep it as neat and clean as possible, but the shore always finds a way. There are vacuum lines in the carpet, but where there is hardwood, there is sand. And whether that's from his nieces and nephews, or Harry himself, it doesn't matter. It's there. People stayed here. Harry's people. And I didn't meet a single one of them.

He'd met all of my people. Even the shitty ones! I sat down on the couch with my legs underneath me. The warm cup of coffee in my hand, that was more sugar and milk than coffee, wasn't doing much for the ice hardening around my heart. I tried to stay positive, but I'm not built that way. He's leaving. This was supposed to be casual! He is leaving. It's just casual. It's fine.

Harry's upstairs in the shower, giving me a brief moment alone. I'm trying so hard to pretend like nothing is wrong, but his departure is looming over us like a dark cloud ready to encompass us both.

I replay the previous night in my mind. Harry picked me up after I worked the lunch shift. We came back to his house and after he gave me the tour we watched movies in what could only be described as a theater room. I was quiet most of the first movie because I was trying to wrap my mind around the size of the house. The financial divide between us has always been there, but seeing it so in my face was distracting me. It cemented in my mind that we weren't meant to be together. He tried to initiate a little action, but I told him I was too tired from work. He didn't argue. We both knew that had never stopped us before. But I was more emotionally exhausted than physically. I tried so hard to stay in the moment, but my brain won't stop replaying he's leaving, he's leaving, like a scratched vinyl. It's casual. It's casual.

I must've been too far in my head because I didn't hear the shower turn off. I jump when Harry, now showered and in fresh pajamas, flops onto the couch next to me. He leans over, placing a soft kiss on my lips. I can still smell his body wash lingering on his skin.

He wraps his arms around me and pulls me down on top of him. "You're sad," he says as he tucks a piece of my hair that has fallen over us. "I thought we weren't doing the sad thing."