LOVE is an incorrigible force. As an inductee into its fraternity you must go through a hazing process of humiliating, soul-bearing, defeat. A process that leaves you raw and bare, and yet, that's only the beginning.
Harry found himself at the beginning.
"Thank you for calling KXXO this is Bo."
"Uh…yeah. I want, uh…I need…um, can I dedicate a song to someone?" Harry stuttered through his sentence.
"Sure. What would you like to hear?" Bo asked.
"Actually, it's for that night time program you have." Harry said.
"Night Mix. Yeah."
"Uh huh. Do I have to call back then to dedicate a song, or can I do it now?"
"Sure, I can take your dedication now. What's your name?" She asked.
"Harry. And will it for sure get played? Because I need it to be done."
Bo seemed amused by Harry's persistence. "I promise I'll play your dedication, but first you have to tell me what it is. What do you want to say?"
"Well…It's for my… for Bree. Um…just tell her the song says everything I can't." Harry stated.
"I'm not going to tell her. You are. So say it like you're talking to her." Bo instructed.
"Bree, please listen to the words. They say everything I can't," Harry stated. "Like that?"
"Yep, just like that."
"Wait, you wrote that down, right? You're not recording this are you?"
Bo laughed at Harry's nervousness. "Harry what do you think this is, a radio station?
Harry laughed slightly, but he didn't know what was supposed to be so funny. Was she kidding?
"Harry?"
"Huh?"
"Your song. What's your song?"
"Oh, yeah." Now it was Harry's turn to laugh at his own nervousness. After all, the song was the reason he'd called in the first place. He quickly rattled off his choice, and when Bo assured him she had it, and told him it was a great choice, Harry's confidence increased just a notch. Maybe this would work.
As soon as Connie had returned to her car from speaking with Harry, Bree noticed that she was acting rather strangely. First, Bree had to actually ask what Harry was saying. It was odd that Connie didn't volunteer the information after their late night confessional the day before. Connie merely said she had a message for Tom. While that alone wasn't much cause for alarm, Connie continued to zone out and laugh aloud in random bouts, to nothing in particular. By the time they made it to Bree's house, Bree had just about had her fill of the laughter and cryptic messages.
"Let's go out. I'm tired of hanging around my house," Bree sighed.
"No!" Connie cried over-enthusiastically. "Um…why don't we just hang here?"
"Because you've been complaining that I never want to leave the house. I thought you said Tom wanted us to go out to dinner." Bree reminded her.
"He changed his mind. And so did I. Let's stay in. Why don't we watch…um, Say Anything. You have that movie, right?"
"Uh. John Cusack. Not my favorite." Bree frowned.
"What? That movie is awesome! When he holds that radio up, gah," Connie holds her hands to her heart. "That is one of the greatest moments in cinema history!"
"It was okay."
"Okay? Just okay? You obviously have never had someone do something so romantic like that for you."
"Have you?" Bree asked dubiously.
"Not the point. I don't need to have experienced it to recognize the heart behind the motive. You, on the other hand…" Connie trailed off when she saw that Bree was no longer paying attention to her.
"Fine. Here's your lovey-dovey movie." She said, flicking the over-discussed DVD at Connie.
Truth be told, Bree wasn't really in the mood to watch couples reconciling on screen. It was just a reminder of how far from screen-worthy her life was. And then, Connie decides that she wants to have another conversation about Bree's love-loss.
"You know, I think I liked you better when you didn't want to talk about Harry." Bree hinted.
Connie rolled her eyes. "I don't want to talk about Harry. I want to talk about you." Connie emphasized. "Are you done…with the whole Harry situation?"
"It kind of takes two people to be in a relationship, so I can't really make that decision on my own," Bree avoided answering.
Connie was relentless. "C'mon, Bree. Just answer the question. If you could have your way, would you take Harry back?"
In answer to the question, Bree considered listing off the vast number of things that would have to change before Bree welcomed Harry back into her good graces. For one, he'd have to stop swearing at her. He'd need to calm down a bit on the whole sex thing. She wasn't ready, how many times did she have to say it? He'd also have to purge all images of Jocelyn naked out of his mind and vocabulary. Oh, and the temper. He'd definitely have to get it under control. After all, any sane person would require these things, right?
"I've asked myself this question over and over," Bree spoke softly. "Because Harry said some pretty mean things. But at the end of the day, I still feel like I know his heart, and I still want it…because he still has mine."
Bree braced herself for Connie to tell her how stupid she was. She waited to hear that Harry was an immature jerk and that Bree should hold out for someone who treated her like a princess.
"Well I don't want to be treated like a princess!" Bree rebutted.
"Um…oo-kkaayy." Connie drew out the syllables.
It was then that Bree realized that Connie hadn't spoken. She was simply sitting before Bree, grinning like a bum with a buck and a blanket.
"So what time does that crazy music program you listen to start? I've kinda had a few of those songs in my head, and I really want to listen to that station." Connie stated as she positioned herself to head up to Bree's room. "You coming?"
* * *
Desmond couldn't remember the last time he'd been so tired. Maybe it was in the early days of his residency, when he'd spent so many hours at the hospital that he didn't even bother coming home, but slept on a small cot in the doctor's lounge.
It was vacation season and the hospital was running as lean as possible. Factor in illness and unforeseen occurrences, and Desmond saw more than his fair share of the ward walls over the week. He could tell that Anne was getting exasperated by his long hours. Although she hadn't said anything, she looked disheartened every time Desmond told her how late he'd be coming home. And he usually came home even later than that.
Luckily, Harry seemed to be keeping himself out of trouble and Maddie, her usual chipper self, had managed not to come down with any major illnesses.
"Hey," Desmond offered a limp wave as he walked past Anne on his way to his office.
"I kept dinner warm for you," she called after his retreating figure.
"Thanks. I'll just be a minute. I have to update some notes," Desmond said over his shoulder. His voice was tainted with weariness.
It's possible that Desmond dosed off while he sat in his overstuffed leather office chair. The next thing he knew, Anne was setting a steaming plate of roast and vegetables in front of him.
"Oh, sorry," he apologized. "What time is it?"
"Almost eight." Anne answered as she placed a napkin and silverware next to the plate. "I'll bring you some iced tea."
She turned to leave and Desmond grabbed her hand and pulled her towards him. "Come here," he softly requested. After moving his chair back slightly, he positioned himself so that Anne could perch upon his knee comfortably. "I promise, these long hours are going to stop soon."
"I know that," Anne offered a weak smile as she put her arm around her husband's shoulders reassuringly.
Desmond placed his finger gently under her chin and guided her face down towards his. He'd intended for it to be a swift, chaste kiss – enough to let his wife know that he loved and missed her. But Anne deepened the kiss and Desmond was able to sense her loneliness and desire as her lips played upon his. His wife had missed him, too.
"I'm so tired, I don't even think I could make it up the stairs," Desmond murmured as Anne began to unbutton his shirt.
"It's okay. We're fine right here," Anne whispered in response.
"Where are the kids?"
"Maddie's in bed asleep and Harry's settled in for the night. He probably won't emerge until tomorrow morning."
Exhaustion aside, Desmond's body immediately responded to his wife as she straddled his lap and made quick work of the enclosure of his pants. With all of his remaining stamina, Desmond helped his wife disrobe and made love to her in the way he knew she needed him to.
"Hey, does anyone have a regular radio – oh shit!"
Before Desmond and Anne could comprehend what had just happened, Harry was attempting to retreat from the office and gouge his eyes out at the same time.
The adrenaline rush from the embarrassment of discovery was just what Desmond needed to summon up the energy to make it upstairs.
"I bet he'll think twice before he walks into my office again without knocking," Desmond laughed as he followed his wife into their bedroom. This time they made sure to lock the door.
* * *
"Connie, I'm tired," Bree whined when Connie continued to talk her ear off about nonsensical matters. "I need to turn off the light and get to bed."
"Okay, well, let me just call Tom and tell him goodnight. I also want him to hear this song. Damn, Bree. I think you're onto something with this station. Some of this music is really soothing."
"I get it, Connie. You like the radio station – a fact you've been trying to convince me of for the last hour and a half. Get some sleep already. We do have school in the morning."
Bree only half-listened as Connie spoke to Tom in a low, cooing tone. Before hanging up, Connie told him to respond to her text message. Bree thought it was odd that Connie would need to send Tom a text message after just having spoke to him on the phone, but then she realized that Connie probably wanted to say something mushy and didn't want to make Bree uncomfortable.
Instead of ask about it, Bree waited until Connie was done fiddling with her phone before she turned off her light and attempted to get some sleep.
"Um, Bree? I can't really hear the radio. Can you turn it up a little?" Connie's soft tone broke through the darkness.
"Connie, if I turn it up any louder, the neighbors are going to be able to hear it." Bree was beyond irritated at this point.
"Oh. Okay."
But then Connie began to hum along to a tune that she didn't really know, obviously trying to keep herself awake.
Bree decided to put them both out of their misery by turning off the radio.
Her hand hovered mere inches above the off-switch when she heard her name. Then she heard his voice.
Bree shot straight up in her bed and turned up the music. Connie turned on the light.
"I'm not going to tell her. You are. So say it like you're talking to her." The radio DJ instructed.
"Bree, please listen to the words. They say everything I can't," Harry's voice said uncertainly. "Like that?"
"Yep, just like that." The DJ affirmed. "So, Bree, this goes out to you from your Harry. I hope you're listening tonight. Here's 'Breakin' Me' by Jonny Lang."
After the shock and surreal nature of the moment wore off, Bree closed her eyes and focused on the lyrics, just as Harry had requested:
Every day I see your face, I wish that I'd stayed
Don't even know what made me run away
It's just the way I play the game
Emotional is not a word I'd use to explain myself
But now you got me down upon my knees
Oh, baby, please just take me back
I don't want to be in love, but you're makin' me
Let me up, I've had enough
Girl, you're breakin' me
Here I am, just half a man standing alone
Feeling like I lost my only chance at happiness
When I let you go
I don't want to be alone, thinkin' 'bout you girl
I got nothin' left to hold in my lonely worldlove
I can feel it in my flesh, my flesh and blood
But my soul can only take so much
The first time my heart was ever touched
Was the day I lost your
So there it is, why can't you give it one more try
You and I could find a way to live
If you let me in just one more time
I know you lost your faith in me
But I still believe
Can I make you understand, can I make you see?
I am desperate for your love
And it's breakin' me
It's breakin' me
Connie tried her hardest to ignore the tears that were streaming down Bree's face while she listened, eyes closed and oblivious.
"Connie…" Bree shut off the radio as soon as the song ended. "Is this why you wanted to watch 'Say Anything'?"
Connie pretended that she had something in her eyes as she wiped at them quickly. "Seriously. Do I look like the kind of girl who would watch that movie? As if." But then she smiled, as if to take it back. "So now what?"
* * *
Harry had left the house early for school, and Anne was sure it had something to do with the compromising position he'd found his parents in the previous night. Just the thought of it made Anne smile. It had been a while since she and Desmond had done something so "colorful" outside the confines of their bedroom. It made her feel alive.
"Hey, beautiful," Desmond greeted as he leaned in and pressed his lips and his body against his wife.
"Hey yourself," Anne returned. "Do you have time for breakfast?"
"I do." Desmond smiled as he sat down at the small kitchen table and crossed his legs at the ankles. "I'm not going in today."
Anne felt a weight she didn't even know she was harboring lift from her shoulders.
"Oh, Desmond, that's wonderful!" she beamed. "What do you have planned for the rest of the day?"
"Nothing. Just relax and spend time with my wife." Desmond looked at Anne coyly. "Where's Harry?"
Anne laughed out loud, knowing her husband wasn't really as interested in his son's whereabouts as he was in letting his wife know that he planned a repeat of last night's encounter.
And he wasn't the only one asking after Harry.
The morning sun made a rare appearance in Lockridge, ousting the clouds and moisture in its presence. Still, it was too early for visitors and Anne and Desmond shared curious glances when they heard their doorbell sound.
"Bree?" It had been many weeks and Anne was beyond shocked to see the young lady on her porch.
"Hi, Mrs. Styles. Uh…is Harry home?" Bree asked nervously.
A quick glance over Bree's shoulder revealed a flaming yellow sports car parked in the Styles driveway. Anne recognized Connie in the driver's seat.
"I'm sorry. Harry has already left for school."
"Oh," Bree was disappointed.
"I'm sure you'll be early enough to catch him before class starts." Anne took in the forlorn expression on Bree's face and wanted to help.
"I don't know if that…I don't really know if that would be the best place to…" Bree frowned at the way she was straining for words.
"If you'd like, you can write him a note. He won't get it until after school, though." Anne suggested.
Bree looked up at her sharply. Surely Anne knew as well as, if not better than, Bree what a challenge reading was for Harry. Why would she suggest such a thing?
The question was evidently displayed on Bree's face, because Anne answered without her even having to ask it.
"He reads when he has to, Bree." She said quietly, even though it was a long shot that Connie would overhear.
And suddenly it seemed like a good idea. Because not only would Bree most likely be able to say what she needed to say on paper, but she would also be able to communicate what wasn't written there as well: she had not lost her faith in him.
"I'll be right back," Bree said as she ran back to Connie's car.
"Bree, we're going to be late." Connie was trying to be as patient and unintrusive as she possibly could while Bree scribbled, scratched, and scribbled some more on a small piece of paper she'd found in her backpack. "I could drive to school and you could give it to him there."
"No. I don't want this at school." Bree shook her head as she re-read what she'd written.
Finally she folded the note up and headed back up to the Styles' door. Anne accepted the paper, gave Bree a hug, and promised that it would be given to Harry as soon as he came home.
"So, if everything you want to say to Harry is in that note, what are you going to say when you see him at school?" Connie wanted to know.
Bree didn't have a quick answer, but fortunately for her, she didn't need one.
Harry wasn't at school.
* * *
Harry had expected his phone to ring last night. When it remained silent, he'd had a fitful nights rest, having slept only about three hours before his eyes popped open and mutinied against any additional slumber.
Sometimes Bree made it to school early, and he thought maybe she'd be there waiting for him. Instead, one of the freshmen girls asked him if he was the Harry that had made a song dedication on the radio last night.
Harry didn't answer her and as he walked away, he made sure to avoid as much of the student body as possible as he headed towards Bree's locker.
The first morning bell rang without a sighting of Bree, but a group of sophomores asked Harry if he listened to Night Mix.
He left the campus before the last bell sounded.
He didn't even realize where he was going until he showed up at Pipeline twenty minutes later. Brian wasn't in, but Troy, one of the other mechanics nodded in acknowledgement as Harry entered and made his way back towards his car. He pulled out the tapping block and body hammer from the tool drawer and set to work, pounding in tune to the agony of his thoughts.
"Harry? What are you doing here so early?" Brian had arrived at work and had spotted Harry almost immediately.
Harry looked at the clock in hopeful anticipation, but his excitement flat-lined when he saw that only mere minutes had passed.
"Uh, I didn't really feel well enough to be at school." The lie wouldn't come fast enough.
"Then you don't fell well enough to be here," Brian thumbed toward the door. "No school, no shop. You know the rules."
Damn work permit.
As Harry stepped off the bus down the road from his house, he rationalized that he really didn't feel well. He probably even looked sick, thanks to the minute amount of sleep he'd gotten during the night. He was sure that he could sleep for hours once he dragged himself up the stairs to his bedroom.
And the overwhelming desire to escape the failure of his grand gesture had absolutely nothing to do with it.
"Hello? Anybody home?" Harry called loudly as he walked into his house. He wanted desperately to avoid anymore run-ins with scantly-clad parents.
Anne appeared from the den almost immediately (thankfully, fully clothed).
"What's wrong? Why are you home?" she fretted over Harry.
"I don't feel good." Harry contorted his face to show his pain and suffering.
Anne put her hand on Harry's face, first feeling his forehead, then his cheeks. "Well you don't have a fever. How'd you get dismissed from school?"
"I started feeling queasy and left before school started." Harry answered. It was vague, and therefore, technically the truth. After all, the thought of other students knowing he'd dedicated a song to Bree on the radio had made him queasy.
"Okay, go on up," Anne indicated towards his bedroom, but not before giving Harry a look that let him know she didn't believe he was sick for a second.
"Does this have anything to do with Bree?" Anne called up to him when Harry had made it to the middle of the staircase.
Harry flinched at her words. Had she heard the dedication, too?
"No. Why would this have anything to do with her?" Harry wanted to kick himself after that last question had left his lips. His mother just might answer him, and then he'd know for sure that she also knew what he'd done.
"I just wondered. You're acting strangely, and then, after not seeing Bree around for awhile, she pops by this morning after you'd already left for school…early, I might add." Anne smiled slightly as she spoke.
Harry had descended the stairs and was standing in front of Anne in less than two seconds.
"What do you mean Bree was here?" Harry asked quickly. "What'd she say?"
"She came by this morning." Anne said nonchalantly. "When I told her you weren't here, she left you a note. It's on the bulletin board in the kitchen."
Harry tore into the kitchen, forgetting his illness and exhaustion. A small piece of paper called to him from its place on the small corkboard by the phone. He lifted the red pin that held the note in place and was too anxious to wait until he was in his bedroom, so he snuck off into the den to face his destiny.
He reappeared before Anne a few minutes later.
"What's this word?" he pointed to the paper. "Just this word, don't read anything else."
"Dedication." Anne told him.
"And this one?" Harry pointed to another.
"Speechless." Anne read.
Harry went back into the den.
Anne watched from the doorway as Harry sat hunched over the paper, trailing his finger along each line of text, just like the literacy coach had instructed him to.
She lingered there, waiting, in case Harry needed help on another word, but he asked for nothing additional.
Silently, Harry eyes scanned the paper, over and over again. When he'd reach the bottom of the note, he'd start back at the top, as if he was reading it for the first time.
Finally, Harry sat back in his chair, a smile threatening to erupt across his face. He read the note silently once more, in its entirety, not stopping until he was done:
Harry,
I did go to your house this morning to talk to you, but you weren't there. I hope you don't mind, but I think writing you a letter might be a better idea anyway. Your dedication left me speechless.
First of all, thank you. That song was beautiful. And I did as you asked; I listened to the words. Where did you find a song that said exactly what you wanted to say? If I could be so lucky, I'd send you a song that told you how sorry I am:
For caring about things that don't matter;
For not giving you a chance to talk;
For being jealous;
For walking away;
For not telling you that I'm in love with you, too;
I don't have a song, but will you still listen to my words?
Broken too,
Bree
Harry pulled out his phone and dialed the first four digits of Bree's phone number before he thought better of it. Instead, he flipped it open to reveal the never before used QWERTY keyboard, and sent the first text message of his life:
U MAKE ME UNBRAKEABLE
LOVE HARRY