Somewhere, Someday

70

We are a complete and total mess right now, and I know we need to talk about what has happened in the past few days. But right now, none of that shit matters, only we matter in this moment.

Harry pulls away, leaving me able to miss his lips connected to mine. Everything felt better when Harry was around, but everything also felt complicated when Harry was in the picture. But I'd take all the pain in the world, if it meant I could be with Harry in the end.

"Come with me." Harry takes my hand, pulling us into his bedroom. No matter how many times I'm in this room, it will always surprise me how clean it is. Everything is where it should be, making me realize that how Harry likes it.

I sit on the edge of his neatly made bed, watching him move nervously around the room looking for something. His eyebrows were furrowed together tightly, while he started lifting things in his closet.

Suddenly, I feel the bed dip from Harry sitting next to me. He had a journal in his hands, while his eyes were facing the ground. It was easy to tell Harry was reluctant in telling me what this was all about, but I was curious to know what he was about to show me.

"You always tell me that you need more, and I always tell you that it's my life, you shouldn't want to know it." Harry looks up at me, while I take quick glances from him to the journal in his hands.

"When I was in high school, my therapist made me keep this fucking notebook. Even though I hated it so much, I've kept it all this time anyways." Harry opens the journal to a certain page, that had already been marked.

"Read this page, please don't think of me as a horrible person afterwards." Harry gets up and leaves the room. He obviously didn't want to wait around and see my face when I read something from his dark past.

I had this whole book of secrets in front of me, but I wouldn't deceit Harry like that and read on. I wanted Harry to trust me, and I wanted to respect the privacy that he still wanted.

Looking down at the page, I see Harry's messy handwriting, indicating this note could only be his. My heart and my mind weren't prepared for what he had written years ago, but no matter what I'd never think of him differently.

Dear father,
I'm not really sure if I consider you my fucking father, you aren't a man I look up to and you never will be. You're a deadbeat asshole, that doesn't deserve a happy, easy life after what you did to mum and I. You made me scared to even come home from school as a child, you're a dick and you're never going to fix that. You told me it would make me a better man, not afraid of any shit in the world. You put your hands on the one you swore you loved, but I've never seen more fucking hatred in my life than the hatred from you. You say you did it because you're broken, and you'd apologize after each time. You've broken me, but you can't see that, because it's always been about you and your problems. I remember going to bed as a child, and hearing mother scream down the hall, hopeless, she was hopeless against you. You've tried reaching out and apologizing, saying rehab fucking changed you. You wanted to take back what we had, but even I know that was nothing. You're the reason why I've slept with an endless amount of women, trying to find just one that will make me want to fucking stay. You've made me scared to try any of this 'love' stuff. If I saw you again today, right now, I'd probably beat the shit out of you and see how you liked it. I'd have the excuse, for I am now a broken man, too.
Sincerely,
Your son, Harry.

Tears started falling down my cheeks and onto the paper. My breathing was coming out fast, looking for the air my lungs needed. Harry shared such an emotional letter from his past with me, he had trusted me with it.

This letter tells me so much about why he is the way he is, why he's afraid of love or being loved. He probably didn't send the letter to his father, but instead was an exercise to get all his anger out about his father.

It made my heart ache for the broken man right out in the other room. He wrote something filled with his horrors and his deepest feelings about his father. Everything that he wanted to ever say was in that note, and now it was shared with me.

The last line of the letter was tattooed into my brain, 'for now I am a broken man, too.' His heart was shattered along with what he thought was right and wrong. Now I knew why he had slept with all those women, he just wanted to feel something that everyone else was getting.

I read the letter about another three times, letting every heartbreaking information sink into my mind. All I could imagine was an innocent, young Harry with bright emerald eyes, being scared to go home to his family.

I felt bad for his mother, because she was also a victim in all of what happened. Such innocence deprived of a boy and his mother. How could he treat his own flesh and blood like this. How could he put his hands on the people he swore he loved?

After awhile longer of analyzing the letter in my hands, I get up and start walking into the living room. Harry was sitting on the couch with his elbows on his knees, and his face in his hands. What could I possibly say to him?

I take a seat down on the couch next to him, and take him into my arms. His body was stiff, worried about my reaction to the emotional letter. "Don't be worried Harry, I'm not leaving." I say holding onto him tight, so neither of us can let go.