Love Always, Harry

II

April 28, 1985   

The cork on the bottle of red wine refused to cooperate with Thea. She'd somehow managed to burn half the roast in the slow cooker. The back of the classic white knee-length dress she had planned on wearing had snagged onto one of the coat hooks and ripped at the seam.

Thea was sure that all these incidents coupled with the sour feeling in the pit of her stomach were harbingers of a disastrous dinner party, one that would be better off canceled. But she'd also barely spoken to Harry for two weeks and despite the fact that it was a bit childish, she had extended him a dinner invitation through Anne, knowing that there was no way she would allow him to decline. 

She tried to forget the haunting expression on Harry's face after she had revealed her engagement. It took him a moment to snap out of whatever thoughts were running in his mind, but he looked between Thea and William and congratulated them with a smile that didn't reach his eyes.

William had told Thea he would wait in the car for her to finish up, and though she had tried to assess Harry's feelings on the situation he only offered her a polite smile, repeated his well wishes, and told her he had to leave to finish up an article. Thea's attempts to visit him at home had been met with Anne's various iterations of he's just gone on an errand, love or he said he had to ring work for a conference call.    

She was used to an angry Harry. She'd seen him in his many forms over the years: the angry Harry who gave her the silent treatment for a week after she accidentally revealed that he'd gotten a tattoo to his mum, the angry Harry who went out for pints with the idiot friends she'd gotten into an argument with him about, even the angry Harry who cried silently to himself and didn't allow anyone except her to be near him.

But Thea wasn't accustomed to a pseudo-polite, avoidant Harry. She didn't know how to approach him or provide him succor; she wasn't even sure whether he was upset or he just needed time to digest the surprise. She decided it had to be the latter. Thea and William had been together for quite some time. She conceded that Harry wasn't William's biggest supporter, but surely he must have known that this was coming. After all, it was the next natural step to take in a committed relationship.

But she hadn't been able to talk to Harry about it and instead was reduced to do this: a word of mouth dinner invitation that he only accepted grudgingly.   

Thea half-heartedly finished slipping into a new dress, appropriately colored black to match her mood. She zipped herself up and paused for a minute, listening intently to gauge whether William had come back from the shops.

Once she was sure she was alone, Thea reached for the beige shoebox on the highest shelf of her closet. She plopped back down onto her bed and opened the box, hoping the contents would calm her nerves and assuage her fears about Harry's feelings. She selected the very first letter and postcard from Trotwood, Ohio.

15 July 1981

Dear Duckie,   

  I've just finished my first assignment as a writer for Rolling Stone! I'm officially a published writer! For an actual publication! Well, technically not yet, but I will be by the time this reaches you I hope. I don't know how long it takes for a letter to reach Cheshire from the States.    

  The Judas Priest concert was fucking sick. I won't tell you all my thoughts on it now, because I want you to see them in the next edition of the magazine. All you have to do is buy the magazine, open it up, and look for the article that has my name next to it. Because I'm gonna be published!!!    

  More importantly, how is your dad doing? Last time I talked to mum, she said one of her friends knew this really great cardiologist and she was going to pass the information along to your dad. Did she? Let me know.