Chapter 21: They're More Like Tsunami Tides In My Eyes
*Sydney's P.O.V.*
A huge smile spread across my face as we turned down the familiar road. The road I grew up on. The road I would ride my bike across with my best friends in the spring and play kickball on with the neighborhood kids in the summer. It was a pretty small road for Tennessee, but there weren't many houses. It was a nice place to grow up, and as much as I had imagined what it would be like to grow up in a city, I've always loved that I was raised in a small town. My heart warmed and I swore I could've cried as we pulled up to our quaint little home. I'm such a mama's girl, it's ridiculous. I always loved going home. Nothing ever went wrong there, besides the absence of a father figure.
I had always wondered what it would be like to be sitting at the kitchen table, doing my math homework and watching the door around 4:58, waiting for a man in a suit to burst through the door at five o'clock. What would it be like to build block towers with a man whose chuckle could light up a room? How would it feel to have your own personal Superman? What would it be like to have a father who called you his princess and let you dance on his feet whilst you were giggling in dress-up gowns? All these thoughts and vague, only imaginable fantasies got the best of me and I felt tears pricking at my eyes. I try to stay strong for the ones I love, but to be honest I'm actually quite emotionally unstable. "Just take a deep breath, baby," my mama cooed from beside me, planting a loving kiss on my cheek before climbing out of the car. I had barely noticed we had pulled into the driveway. I blinked the pain away, legs shaking as my clumsy hands fuddled with the seatbelt buckle. I hadn't realized how nervous I was until now. I slammed the car door shut, flinching as I did so. My heart began pounding harder and harder as realization dawned on me, the thought finally processing that the man who conceived me, left me, was waiting for me behind that familiar screen door. The screen door that squeaked and slammed and cried and yelped every morning, afternoon, and evening. Even though the man waiting for me was my technical father, all he really was was a stranger. I had no clue who this man was, nor did he know who I was. I swear my heart was about to beat out of my chest, a bird flapping about madly, banging against the cage in a desperate attempt at freedom as my mother smiled at me encouragingly, opening the memorable dark green door.
Everything was the way I had left it. You were still greeted by a creaky, narrow wooden staircase, still covered in the pink floral carpeting that I had always found revoltingly atrocious. As horrible as it was, it now seemed so welcoming after parting from it for so long. On either side of the staircase you still had the left option of the small bathroom or the right option of the small, cozy parlor. Routinely, mama and I chose the latter option, entering the cluttered space. The carpet was still the same pink floral pattern to match the stairs. The mantle above the ever-dormant fireplace was still adorned with multiple pictures of my mother and me from various past occasions. The rocker still sat isolated in the corner, the outdated white couch still pressed against the wall facing the window that exposed the vast front lawn. Everything was the same. Except for the strange man who was getting up off of the sofa, a huge grin spreading across his face.
I'm not quite sure what I was expecting; a man in a business suit, maybe khakis and a red tee shirt ready to play a game of catch. You know, stereo-typical dads. I should've known my mom would never go for a man like that. She was always drawn to men in open button-down plaid flannels with a plain black shirt underneath, blue jeans, and caramel Timberland boots, much like the man standing in front of me. I smiled back timidly, suppressing the urge to squirm as his predictably green eyes flickered over my body in a slight sense of disbelief. He had light brown hair atop his head and slight stubble sprouting around his straight toothed smile. He had lines protruding from the sides of his eyes when he smiled, and a straight nose which I obviously didn't inherit. (Mine was quite botton-like.) "Wow," he breathed, both of us still taking each other in. My mother stood off to the side, smiling through her obvious discomfort. Ah, my mother, always trying to please others.
"Hi," I replied lamely in a barely audible tone, still shrinking into myself. Daniel's smile faltered for a moment as he mentally replayed my voice through his head. I processed his as well, judging off of his husky "wow".
"You're pretty quiet, aren't you?" he mused, still beaming. He seemed like a pretty nice guy. He left your mom because he got her pregnant and he couldn't handle the problems he caused, my pessimism whispered, he's not a nice guy. I tried my best to push those words aside, allowing only positive thoughts into my mind. I grinned a bit and shrugged before realizing I was just being even quieter by doing so.
"Not usually," I answered, my voice gaining a tiny bit of strength with every word. His smile turned a bit sad as he examined me some more. I was a bit uncomfortable, but I couldn't blame him. He was meeting his daughter for the first time. I was probably making him feel weird as well.
"How 'bout we go talk in the kitchen," he suggested, his words coated in heavy southern drawl as his eyes flickered from my mother to me.
"That sounds like a good idea," mama obliged perkily, her nerves still obviously shining through her optimistic act. I jumped a bit as Daniel - my dad - placed his big, rough hand on the small of my back and led me back to the familiar room. This is going to take some getting used to.
*Megan's P.O.V.*
I studied Harry for a moment, not quite sure how to approach him. This beach obviously meant something to him, as he was currently very emotional, I just didn't know what it meant to him. "Harry?" I asked in a soft, tentative tone. He just kept staring straight on through the windshield, which was being swept rapidly by windshield wipers. His knuckles were turning white from how tightly he was gripping the steering wheel. His jaw was clenched firmly, causing a vein to slightly pop out on his neck. I bit my lip, tearing my gaze away and bringing it back to his perfect profile. His jade eyes were shining with unshed tears, he long, perfectly curled black lashes unmoving due to his lack of blinking. "Why are we at the beach?" I asked quietly, trying to be careful as I didn't want him to explode. He didn't explode. He just let a lone tear brim on the edge of his eye, cascading down his flushed cheek freely. I killed me seeing him cry, even if it was just a single tear.
"This is where I took Dani on our first date," he explained in a raspy, hushed tone, his gorgeous voice just barely cracking. Realization dawned on me, and chills coursed throughout my entire body. I dared to reach my hand out, wiping away the single tear. I kept my hand there, seeing what he would do. After a moment, he turned towards me, resting his head in my palm gently. I caressed his cheek caringly, meeting his sad green gaze. I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from crying; seeing him like that broke me inside, but I had to stay strong for him. "Why?" he whispered, his voice shaking noticeably even on a one syllable word. I just shook my head, searching for an answer. Truth is, we all wanted an answer to that question. And even though she explained herself in her notes, none of us could see the sense yet. Although, I was starting to understand.
"I think she had been wanting to for a while," I said, finally letting the thought that had been lingering in the back of my mind out. I had begun to consider it before, but I never let myself accept it. No one wants to think that their best friend would rather be dead. No one wants to consider the possibility of never having anymore sleepovers, anymore late night phone calls, no more heartfelt talks. So you pretend not to notice the thin lines on her wrist. You pretend to believe her excuses for not being allowed to leave the house. You pretend to believe her when she says she's fine. You pretend to believe her when she promises everything is alright and she won't do anything stupid. But when the deed is done, you wish hadn't ignored it. You wish could've had the courage to help her, even if she wanted to be alone at the time. You wish you had done something, anything, to make things better. All you do is regret every choice you ever made, but it doesn't do a thing because regrets can't bring your best friend back. Even when it actually happens, it takes a while for it all to set in.
"I could've helped her," he whispered desperately, obviously trying harder to convince himself than me. I smiled sadly, shifting my hand from his face to his shoulder. I shook my head again.
"I know you want to think that, but no one could help her," I replied, just then realizing how true that statement was. He opened his mouth to protest, but nothing came out. I just wanted him to understand. I knew I wouldn't be able to ease his pain, but I just wanted him to know why. He deserved at least that. "Derek was the only thing that made her feel safe, and when he was gone..." I trailed off, pretty sure both of us knew where I was going with that. I bit my lip once again and looked down. I tried not to think too deeply about the negatives of the situation, as it usually made me want to bawl. I really don't like crying in front of people, but the tears were becoming insistent and were pushing to fall through.
"I still don't understand," Harry whimpered, not really making the situation any better. I looked up, searching his shining pools of green for answers. Answers no one could possibly have. His tears triggered mine, and soon we were both just blubbering messes. He unbuckled both of us and gently pulled me into his lap. I wrapped my arms around his neck, sobbing into his chest. I had been holding it all in, trying to keep myself together, but now it was all rushing out like a tsunami. And poor, unstable Harry was the one who had to deal with me. I felt horrible; my goal was to enlighten him, and all I managed to do was break down in front of him. Despite how broken we both were, we held each other tight, his arms locking around my waist in an iron grip, both of us shaking in each other's arms. I calmed myself, sniffling and rearing back. Harry stared at me curiously, lips still trembling uncontrollably and tears raining like a storm. I wiped them away, and he did the same to me. I smiled at his touch and the tingled it left. It was just one of those little things that can make a situation seem a little better. "Please tell me why she left me," he pleaded, obliviously and unintentionally crushing me. "I want to know."
I sighed, searching for an accurate explanation. "She was sort of... trapped. Mentally and even physically, to an extent. Trapped by fear and paranoia, trapped by scars, trapped in the same world as the man who broke her. Her mind was a secret world of darkness and horrible thoughts, a place she lived in 24/7, even if she was smiling on the outside, and never let people into. She kept it all inside, hurting herself as I source of relief since she didn't want to worry anybody by talking about it. All her emotions and desires to just give up were locked up behind a dam, a dam that was ready to burst at any moment. I think having a gun held towards you and watching your brother be killed, by your own father, would probably be enough to break that dam." I had no idea where the explanation had come from, but it seemed pretty accurate. I watched as his gorgeous emerald orbs clouded over and his eyebrows scrunched together as he absorbed what was just explained to him.
"There must've been something someone could've done," he insisted, staring out at the roaring ocean, the water rolling with varying shades of dark grays and blues. I sighed. This might take a while, I thought. But the thing is, I was willing to take the time to make him feel better. I was more than happy to dedicate the time and effort into easing his pain and getting him to understand. I wrapped my arms around his shoulders and rested my head in the warm crook of his neck, following his gaze out to the hazy sea.
"She's happy now," I stated simply, wrapping up the conversation. Harry held him to me, and I couldn't help but think about how amazing it would be to fall asleep like this and wake up like this.
"I guess I should probably break things off with Veronica..." he trailed off softly. I felt guilty as a huge smile spread across my face, but I couldn't help it. I was just so happy he was realizing how wrong that relationship was.
"That would probably be best," I replied, the joy slipping through in my words. He turned his head and smirked at me knowingly.
"Why don't you like her?" he asked, the heavy, dreary mood suddenly lifting. I suppressed my smile unsuccessfully. I'm not quite sure why I was smiling at the fact that he and I both knew very well, but what can I say? The boy does weird things to me.
"I just think you can do a lot better," I answered, smiling down at our laps.
"Who would you rather see me with?" he taunted, obviously just holding his knowledge me. I glared up at him, a little annoyed yet a little turned on by his teasing. I considered answering him with a witty comeback, but I couldn't think of anything. So instead I just crashed my lips into his, obviously catching him off guard as I ran my fingers through his curls. He was still at first, clearly shocked, but then I felt the warm, tender touch of his large hands on my waist. We moved in rhythm, our lips grazing each other in perfect harmony. I pulled away just as he began deepening the kiss, smiling in satisfaction as the almost ravenous look in his eye. He caught his breath, his face softening a bit. "I think I should go break up with Veronica now," he gulped, turning back to the wheel. I beamed to myself, settling back into my seat.
"Sounds good to me."
A/N***
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