Come June [ h.s. ]

23

23
.

It was Sunday morning, and Harry was taking Sam on a walk by the beach with Ove Harris. Eileen had gone to a service at the town church; she'd said something that morning about "gaining perspective." A light wind rustled the men's jackets as they strolled, chatting pleasantly about this and that. Harry wanted to bring up Eileen's mother at some point, but didn't know how. He didn't want to offend her father in any way.

Ove was a kind man; he was gentle, and honest. It was hard to imagine that behind that bright, carefree disposition he dealt with such a loss. What was it like to lose a spouse to Alzheimer's? How could you cope? It must've been difficult to run that restaurant all by himself, with only his daughter for company. Did he feel trapped?

Did she?

"Everything alright, Son?"

He glanced quickly to his side and saw Mr. Harris' tired blue eyes watching him, peering straight through him. He hadn't realized he'd become quiet, and was probably sporting a troubled look on his face. Classic Harry, always so transparent. He'd never been good at hiding his emotions.

"Oh, erm..." he muttered. "I'm alright, sorry. Just thinking."

"You lie worse than Eileen."

"Eileen doesn't lie."

"Because she's awful at it," Ove chuckled. "She gets all flushed and starts laughing at herself. One time she accidentally knocked over a vase in a really fancy restaurant. She was halfway through a lie and she laughed so hard she made herself cry."

A wide grin stretched across Harry's face. He could picture her so perfectly, unable to take herself seriously. Ove met his eyes and chucked to himself.

"It makes me happy to see you together," he said. "Before you came along Eileen was happy, but she'd never wanted to share her life with anyone. No dating, no boyfriends. I always knew that when she did choose someone, he'd be a good man. She'd never settle for anything less."

He felt a pang in his chest. He knew that if Eileen thought he was worth being with, it must've been true; it was just difficult to believe sometimes, that was all. It's difficult to imagine someone so incredible thinking about you in the same way.

"I don't know why she picked me," Harry shrugged.

"You will. She has a way of making you see the best part of yourself, somehow."

There was a brief silence. He decided it was best to allow Ove to bring up Eileen's mother when he felt ready, and therefore held back. For now, maybe it was best that he simply walked with this man, laughed with him, and perhaps made him feel a little less lonely. Harry had learned most things from his mother. His father, on the other hand, simply gave him a series of fleeting yet glimmering lessons that had stuck over time. One of his favorites was that sometimes, just being there is enough, if not more.

So he allowed himself to be there.

In the conversations.

In the silence.

When it was quiet, and the sea breeze whistled softly in his ears and filled his nostrils with the smell of salt and sand, his thoughts drifted to Eileen, who now resided like a permanent daydream.

The night before she sat beside him in her long pajamas and robe, hunched over a puzzle depicting a Parisian square. Her slender fingers fiddled through the overturned pieces in search of a small orange flower pot. Harry was talking to her about something; he couldn't quite remember now. He wasn't thinking much as he spoke to her. With a wave of admiration, she abandoned her search for the piece and peered through her reading glasses into the heartbreaking green of his eyes.