Harley | #SHAWROCKETPRIZE

Chapter 1

We stood barefoot on a cold varnished wood floor per moms request. She refused to have us mope around on the couch, her words. Dad flicked the old radio on, and grandma's tunes filled up the room. His choice. 

I think they were trying to make us feel better. If anything, it made me feel worse.

So we stood around, huddled around nana's photo. Mom began to say something, undoubtedly some sort of mini-speech she had prepared for the event. I listened, or at least attempted to, because her words escaped my mind. 

"I got you babe. I got you babe."

I began to look around the room. Anything to keep me distracted. 

Quickly, this proved to be a bad idea. The 'scenery' had my stomach tangled into knots. Tacky flowery and heart-shaped paper cut-outs were hung up on just about every surface in the living room. Against our wishes, of course. Mom didn't understand what I meant when I argued they felt more like a joke than anything. And, she definitely didn't understand when I said the same about the even tackier outfits she made us wear.

Luckily, it was only family. That was at least some sort of comfort, but barely. The room was suffocating me, even with how the spacious it was. It was insufferably warm and stuffy. Or, maybe I was just over-heating from frustration. 

I took my eyes off of the room, avoiding subjecting myself any further to the mess. My eyes wandered down, and I brushed a hand over the loose pink skirt of the gown I had forced on me. My mom told me it was one of many measures for my love for grandma. I was excitedly awaiting being allowed to go back to my room so I could rip it off immediately. 

"I got you, I won't let go. I got you to love me so."

I remember when I was little, there were always three things nana always told me. First, do whatever feels right in the moment. Second, never sulk in the past. And lastly, never ever daydream about the future. And, although I loved her to pieces, there I was. I was desperately clinging to any moment but now.

I bet that was something she would absolutely shake her head. Maybe even until it came loose like a screw. I smiled to myself at the mental image, which earned me a glare from Curtis. I finally realized that mom had stopped talking.

"Harley," he nudged me with his shoulder and I let out an over-dramatic 'ouch'. He groaned in return. When I looked him up and down, I smiled harder as I admired the same bright getup he was forced to wear as me, except his pants and a shirt.

"Where's gramps?" he asked dully, clearly not sharing my interest in his costume.

I shrugged, and looked around the room. I expected him to be in his corner, resting on his well-loved recliner while waiting for the unofficial ceremony to end. But alas, nothing. My smile pressed into a thin line and I stepped out of the huddle to begin my search. "I'll go look for him," I halfheartedly announced without being prompted. Any excuse to leave the misery-parade.

When I dragged my feet into the kitchen, I was met with an unnerving darkness. Silhouettes shifted around as I announced my presence with each footstep. My fingers managed to locate the light switch and I swiftly pressed it on.

My eyes squinted at the contrast, and I rubbed my eyes in reflex. As my eyes adjusted, I was able to make a few blobs of color out. 

Grandpa was slumped over the table, an absent look on his face as he took brief sips from a foggy glass. His eyes were squinted too, but he didn't rub his like I did. When I walked closer to the table, he paused and acknowledged my presence with a nod. I smiled, or at least attempted to, and he returned it wryly.

I took a hesitant step closer, "Grandpa."

"Kiddo." he grinned, motioning me over to the seat next to him at the kitchen table. I did so, and a minute long silence lingered between us. I had forgotten already what I came into the kitchen for. 

"Shouldn't you be enjoying the party?" he asked, putting down his glass. 

I responded with a sheepish nod, but paused. "Curtis was looking for you. And, I don't feel right doing this..." My hands vaguely gestured to the entire room, and back behind me to the living room. I wasn't quite sure where I was heading with my sentence, but I managed to string a few more words together. "You know? Celebrating her death?"

He sighed and pushed away his drink before scooting his seat closer to mine. But, in his eyes I knew he had the same feeling. They were red, with deep circles under the eyes. Hesitantly, he put a warm hand on my shoulder. "She would've wanted this, Harley. You know, your nana would never want you to be sad."

The room fell silent, my only response was a delayed nod as I twirled a finger in the frills of my skirt. I avoided his gaze, turning to pinching the sequins off of my skirt and flicking them aside.  I didn't know what to say without starting some sort of argument. Not with him, not right now.

Grandpa finally broke the silence when he caught my fidgeting, and let out a sigh. "How about I tell you a story, like the good old times?" He tried his best to sound happy, or at the very least content, it didn't ring in his voice. I nodded once again, this time running a hand over my skirt as an attempt to re-adjust it.

"What story?"

"Well.." he moved his hands off my shoulder and rubbed his prickly chin. After a pause, he wrinkled his nose and gave me a smile. This is the first time today it felt genuine. "How about when me and grandma met? I think you're old enough to hear it now."

Excitedly, I leaned in with a smile. I had asked before, at least twice to be exact. Once when I was ten, and once again when I was fourteen. Both times met with stern no's, with no intention of explaining why. Sixteen seemed to be the lucky number. I planted my elbows on the wooden table and rested my chin between both hands. Curtis would have to tame the herd for a few minutes more, if anyone even noticed I was missing to begin with. 

He shared my enthusiastic smile. "We were your age, maybe a bit older," he motioned something with his hands. "I was out, living on my own. My parents kicked me out, told me they didn't like how I was behaving—"

"Woah, woah, woah." I interrupted him with a surprised look. "You were a bad kid?"

"The worst."

"So, I did what I had to do." he started up again. "Found a small job doing some dirty work. Friend of a friend got me a job at a small car repair shop. The kicker was, it was all stolen cars." he paused, waiting for my response. If the shocked look written all over my face wasn't enough. 

"I even got taught to hot-wire. We made fake plates, cops were none the wiser. By the time they left the shop they looked a whole new ride."

"So, what? Did nana work with you?"

He nodded his head and grinned. "She was the boss."