Savior

The Boy that Helps

Some days are harder than others. And today is definitely one of those days.

I burnt the first batch of muffins this morning –which is something I have never done in my entire life and something I don't ever want to do again. Some rowdy teenagers came in and drew paraphernalia all over the chalkboards. This of course had some dad yelling at me, as if I was the one who drew the pornographic images.

This incident of course spurred a small panic attack that had me locked in the back room for almost ten minutes until Eliza came in with soothing jasmine tea.

However horrible these things are, none of them can compare to the one daunting thought that keeps resurfacing in my mind.

Today is July 21st. Today is His birthday.

I know that if I had never left New York I would be fixing Him His favorite breakfast at this very moment –eggs benedict with a glass of whiskey. Then, He would drag me out to some dingy with His friends, get completely wasted, and then persuade me to sleep with Him even though He can barely stand on his own.

And of course I would oblige because it is His birthday and I wouldn't want a fresh bruise to wake up to in the morning.

But, instead of that I am filling coffees and erasing the chalkboards and being yelled at and trying not to be a skittish freak anymore and I can't help but wonder what He is doing without me.

"Why the long face, Red?"

And I jump a mile high because I hadn't even heard the door open, let alone seen Harry's lanky figure walk through the door and take a seat on the stool in front of me. I want to blame my extra taught nerves on the earlier angry father, but I know my dazed and high-strung state is all thanks to today and all the unpleasant memories it brings.

"You frightened me," I laugh shakily, clutching the rag I was using to wipe down the counter to my chest and brushing my hair from my eyes, "Aren't you supposed to be at work?"

Harry picks at his fingernails and I begin to make his Americano while I wait for him to speak, "I took today off to visit my mum."

His voice is low, much slower than usual and I can tell the subject is a sore one –for good reason. Without thinking, I reach across the counter and grasp his hand in mine, squeezing lightly. Harry intakes a sharp breath as my warm hands meet his cold ones and I pull away quickly, flushing and steaming his milk.

I'm slightly proud at my lowered inhibitions and the fact that I am becoming more comfortable with touch, but the concept still terrifies me. However, with Harry, it doesn't make me feel anxious anymore. No, just being in his presence alone makes me oddly calm.

Which only terrifies me more.

I'd be lying if I said I still didn't become frightened and anxious very easily, but in the last few weeks it had been lessening greatly –especially around Harry. Something that both elated me and worried me.

"How is she?"

"She likes to sugarcoat things," He sighs, thanking me when I pass him his drink and slipping a hand into his tight jeans to pass me his money, "I know the chemo really takes a toll on her, but she puts on a brave face."

"She sounds like an amazing woman."

Harry's full lips pull into a fond smile as he nods his head, "Yeah, she is... you should meet-"

"Hazza!"

Eliza busts through the back doors with chocolate frosting on the side of her lips that I know belongs to the cupcakes I just made and I instantly scowl at the dark-skinned beauty. Harry's cheeks are slightly flushed and he looks irritated that Eliza had interrupted him.