HARRY felt extremely uncomfortable as he sat in the waiting room with Anne's hand clasped firmly over his. Every so often he'd cast a sideways glance in her direction to see her wiping at her eyes or nose with the wad of tissue she held in her other hand.
"I'm glad your dad brought you," she said when she caught him glancing at her. "I couldn't stand to be out here by myself while he's in there with Maddie."
"I can't believe they let him in there," Harry shook his head. There was no way he could stand to see anyone operated on, let alone a family member.
"He won't be in there the whole time. Just…until she's well under the anesthesia."
Harry nodded. Silently, he was glad Desmond wasn't there to cast his disapproving looks in Harry's direction. The ride to the hospital had been a quiet one. Thankfully, Desmond had spent most of it on the phone with his secretary rearranging his patients' appointments.
"Do you want something to drink or anything?" Harry offered, anxious to get up and stretch his legs a little.
Anne shook her head. "I'm fine, but you go ahead if you need to."
If you need to. Harry read between the lines on that one. She was telling him that she didn't want him to go, but she was willing to let him if he felt it absolutely necessary.
Harry hated the waiting room – he hated the hospital in general, but he swallowed his distaste and remained seated. With resignation, he slumped down in his seat and surrendered his hand to Anne for as long as she needed it.
He must have dosed off because he was awoken by the sounds of Anne and Desmond speaking in calm, relieved tones.
"What happened?" Harry sat up and rubbed at his eyes.
"Everything's fine. Maddie did great. They just took her into the recovery room," Desmond looked years younger than he had this morning. "I'm trying to convince your mother to go home and rest a bit."
Anne adamantly resisted. "No. You go on ahead and take Harry home. We'll switch later, but I want to be here when Maddie wakes up. Otherwise she'll be scared."
Harry watched as Desmond gave in, knowing that there was no use in reminding his wife that Maddie could be calmed down with his presence as well.
"Ready, Harry?" Desmond jingled his keys in his son's direction.
Instead of answer verbally, Harry simply stood in preparation of following. He hugged Anne awkwardly before making his way toward the exit.
Harry tried to pretend like he hadn't gotten enough sleep in the waiting room – that he also needed complete silence so that he could rest on the way home. Desmond, however, had an opposing idea.
"Harry…" he began and stopped. "I know you can hear me."
With a sigh, Harry straightened up in his seat, but not before communicating to Desmond, with every non-verbal gesture imaginable, that he didn't want to have this conversation.
"What?"
"Don't 'what' me. You know what."
"Actually, I don't."
"What do you mean you don't? You had your girlfriend stay the night when no one was home. I'm supposed to be okay with that?"
"Well…yeah?"
"I beg your pardon?"
"Isn't that what the whole 'make-sure-you-wear-a-condom' speech was all about that time? Because if you didn't expect me and Bree to be together, why'd you even bother?"
Desmond was quiet for a long time, but then he pulled the car over and came to a stop. Harry looked around and noted that they were in the middle of nowhere. He looked over at his father for an explanation.
"Harry…damn, this is hard… on a rational level, I know that you're going to have sex, I do. I know that you've had sex, and that once you start having sex, it's hard not to. However, that doesn't mean that I don't have certain…expectations for your moral character while you're living in my house."
"In English, please," Harry exhaled.
"Well first of all, you're seventeen. And seventeen-year-olds do not have the right to have sleepovers with their girlfriends in my house. And just in case you're wondering, neither to eighteen-year-olds. Second of all, you're part of this family, Harry. And when someone in this family is in a distressing situation, we're all in a distressing situation. How would you feel, if while you were in the hospital facing an operation, your mother and I decided to take a vacation?"
"That's not the same thing."
"It may as well be. Your thoughts were on you, and you alone. All you cared about was getting laid – not about me, or your mother or your sister!"
"It wasn't like that!"
"Oh the hell it wasn't, Harry. You-"
"My brother died in that hospital, Desmond; on that same fu-freakin' floor. And I can't remember many things that we did together outside of the damn hospital, so excuse me if I wanted to think about something else…anything else, other than Maddie lying in a hospital bed. I mean, you're a doctor, and if you were scared…" Harry trailed off and turned to look out the window.
Desmond could see the emotion on Harry's face through the reflection in the passenger side window. Though he felt compassion for what Harry had just shared, he wasn't about to turn this into a situation where he was apologizing to Harry for setting forth rules. Instead, he put his hand atop Harry's and patted it softly, letting the gesture say all that needed to be said.
"We'll talk more later," Desmond said quietly before putting the car into drive and guiding it towards home.
* * *
When Bree had completed her shower, dressed and returned to her bedroom, Connie was sitting on her bed, waiting for her.
"Okay. Start talking. Seriously, Bree, you're freaking me out," Connie stated.
Bree moved slowly across her bedroom and climbed cautiously onto her bed before facing her friend. "I told you it wasn't anything to get freaked over."
"Like hell! First, you call me at an ungodly hour on a Saturday morning, then you get in my car and absolutely refuse to tell me anything until you've had a shower. What the hell is that?"
"I was…uncomfortable," Bree hinted.
"Okay," Connie smoothed her hands over her hair before holding them, palms up, in front of Bree, "Start at the beginning."
Bree glanced at her bedroom door, making sure it was closed. Once she was sure she couldn't see the shadow of her father's footprints beneath the door, she continued.
"Harry called and asked me to come over, and I knew he meant for the night, because he mentioned that his parents weren't going to be home."
"Yeah, and?" Connie egged her on.
"And that's when I called you to cover for me."
"Right, right."
"So…I went over there and we hung out…and stuff…and then we…tried to…" Bree frowned as her fingers picked at her bedspread. Should she tell of all their failed attempts, or just the fact that it finally happened?
"Did you guys have sex or not?" Connie blurted out.
"Connie!" Bree glanced at the door. "Yeah, we did." She, bashfully, looked down at her hands.
"And…how was it?"
Bree looked into her friend's eyes with a serious expression on her face. "Connie, you know how everyone always says sex hurts the first time?"
"Yeah?"
"Well, there needs to be a better description. Shots hurt. Bee stings hurt. First-time sex deserves it's own classification of pain."
"That bad, huh?"
"I can't even describe it. I couldn't even do it at first. I had to keep telling him to stop. It felt like I was splitting in half."
"Whoa," Connie grimaced at the mental picture. "Haven't you guys fooled around? Has he ever used his fingers or anything?"
"Yes! That's why I was so freaked out when it hurt so much. I mean, if he can get three fingers up there, he should be able to get his dick in, right?" Bree whispered the word for the male anatomy.
Connie giggled. "I guess Harry is just really well endowed."
Bree smiled, but didn't laugh. She had pressing matters on her mind and she hoped Connie had answers for her.
"So…is it…normal to bleed afterwards?"
"Totally," Connie nodded reassuringly.
"How much?"
Connie shrugged. "It depends. I mean, you shouldn't have to wear a tampon or anything. Why? Are you bleeding a lot?"
Bree nodded. "Not like a period or anything, but I have to wear a pad…and it's been since last night."
Connie thought for a moment. "I think that's fine."
"What about your first time? Did it burn when you went to the bathroom afterwards?"
Connie shook her head. "No. It sounds like you ripped a little bit."
Bree groaned and flopped back against her headboard.
"Wait a minute…" Connie straightened up suddenly as if something had just occurred to her. "So, you've just had sex for the first time, you're in pain, bleeding, scared… and that asshole made you walk home from his house?"
Bree shook her head. "Oh, I haven't told you the worst part."
"There's more?" Connie was amazed.
"Oh yeah." Bree closed her eyes and related the story of how Harry was going to ride halfway home with her on the bus; but when they got downstairs to leave, there was Harry's dad, sitting at the kitchen counter.
"Oh no!" Connie covered her mouth in horror. "He caught you guys?"
"Well not in the act…but he may as well have. Anyway, I wanted out of that house so quickly that I just ran out. I didn't even bother to say bye to Harry."
"Aw, Bree. I'm sorry it was such a …hard experience for you. But it only gets better. I promise."
Bree smiled wearily. She knew on the surface that her body wasn't 'aching' for a second go of it, but in her heart, she couldn't wait to give Harry that experience again – to see his ecstasy and know that she was the cause of it. However, she really hoped Connie was right and that it wouldn't hurt the next time.
Connie left soon after their talk. Thanks to Bree's frantic early morning call, Connie was lacking in the sleep department and needed to catch up on it before her evening plans with Tom.
Though Bree was thankful that Connie was able to put her mind at ease on the major issues, it became apparent that there were things that Bree needed answers to that she didn't feel comfortable discussing with Connie. And Connie had told Bree that she thought everything sounded normal, but she wasn't sure. Bree wanted to know for sure.
It had been a few years since she'd been to a gynecologist. Actually, she'd only been once. It was the most painful and awkward experience of her teen years, well, until last night, but at least then she got to see Harry naked. Still, Bree was now certain that it was time to go again, if for no other reason than to have her questions answered.
All the doctors listed for the gynecology department in Lockridge Falls were men and Bree didn't feel comfortable with that. But as she searched online she did see a listing for a Women's Clinic that was local. She felt confident that she'd be able to have her questions answered there, and according to their ad, they had walk-in appointments. She planned to go in on Monday after school.
Bree glanced over at the clock like she had done so many times that afternoon. Harry had sent her a text asking if she was okay and she'd messaged him back stating that she was fine, but asking him to call her. He said he'd call her later that night. Harry wasn't very wordy in his text messages, so she'd had to read between the lines, but it didn't take much to figure out that a little girl's surgery took precedent over the penal code in regards to teenage lust.
After a long nap, Bree traipsed downstairs to make dinner. Upon noticing that her father was two beers into a game on the sports channel, she decided that it was as good a time as any to hit him up for the keys to his truck.
"Dad, can I borrow your truck on Monday? It's a half day at school so I won't have it all day," she explained.
"What do you need it for?" he asked, turning his attention from the television to her.
"Oh, uh, I have a doctor's appointment."
At her statement, Johnny's seemed to appraise her silently for a few moments. "What kind of doctor's appointment?"
"Just a regular checkup. I figured I'd do this, and then go to the dentist before I turn eighteen, while I'm still on your insurance." Bree rattled off the story she'd planned in case he'd asked.
"Huh," Johnny mumbled as he continued to look her over. "I noticed that Connie was here this morning."
"Yeah," Bree shrugged her shoulders and turned her hands palms up, as if to ask 'so what'.
"No big deal…it's just that you and Connie sure do have a lot to talk about for two girls who just spent the entire night together."
"Well…yeah…I guess." Bree knew she was a horrible liar, and so did her father. She looked at him and saw that he was looking at her in that 'I-used-to-interrogate-criminals-for-a-living-so-don't-even-try-it' kind of way.
And whether it was cliché or not, Bree knew that in that moment, she did look different – to her father, anyway. Whether it was that he knew, by some special intuition, that she'd had sex with Harry, or her statement about the insurance had reminded him that she'd be an adult in a few short months; Bree recognized the defeat in his eyes. She was growing up, and there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it.
"So can I borrow your truck?"
"Uh…yeah. Go ahead."
* * *
Harry felt the awkwardness of the position he was in as he wandered into the kitchen in search of food. His talk with Desmond had left him in a state of disciplinary limbo, not really knowing if he was in trouble or not. Once they'd gotten home, Desmond had disappeared into his office without another word, leaving Harry to wonder if the television was off limits or not. He was prepared for Desmond to come out of his office with a legal pad of all of his infractions and punishments, but the day was giving way to evening, and still, Desmond had not appeared.
Regardless of the possible garnishment of his privileges, Harry knew that he had to call Bree. He'd sent her a text message earlier asking if she was all right; she said that she was, but that she wanted him to call her. He didn't know much about boyfriend etiquette, but calling your girlfriend after deflowering her had to be a given, and he knew Bree expected it.
At the thought of their first sexual experience, Harry didn't know whether to smile or frown. He was so glad to experience that milestone with Bree, but he could tell she'd had a difficult time, even if she was trying to hide it from him. But he'd seen the blood, on himself, and then on his sheets when he'd gotten up that morning. He knew she was probably freaking out on the inside, always afraid that she was different or defective in some way. He hated that he hadn't been able to ride home with her and comfort her on the short journey. But Desmond had caught them as they were leaving…
Harry had to laugh out loud. Even he had to admit that that shit was so bad it was funny. He had snuck in and out of some pretty harrowing situations and had never been caught. And here's Bree, probably the first time she's ever done anything that ranked on the parental disapproval scale, and she gets caught.
When Harry pulled out his phone to call Bree, just to check on her and make sure she was okay, Desmond poked his head into the kitchen.
"Got a minute?" he asked.
By the way he'd asked the simple question, Harry knew this was going to take longer than a minute. He nodded and took a seat at the counter, almost in the same place Desmond had been seated earlier that morning.
"So, your mom is on her way home and she's quite stressed about all that's been going on the last few days," Desmond paused. "So, I need you to be on your best behavior and pitch in and help out more around here…and stay out of trouble."
Harry looked up to see his father watching him as if he were supposed to interject something, but he didn't know what.
"I have been staying out of trouble," Harry defended himself.
Desmond cocked an eyebrow at him, but let the comment slide. "And though I don't believe in keeping secrets from your mother, I think we might hold off on telling her about your weekend escapade until things calm down a bit around here."
"What weekend escapade?"
Anne had come into the house undetected, only to find her husband and son hunched over the kitchen counter like they were planning international espionage.
Harry looked on as Desmond stuttered and stammered through his answer. "Uh, we'll talk about it later. How was Maddie when you left?"
"She was fine, a little groggy." Anne answered as she walked into the kitchen and stood at the end of the counter between Desmond and Harry. "So, what happened here this weekend?"
"We'll talk about it later," Desmond gave her a telling look. But Anne refused to be put off.
"No, tell me now. What's wrong?" she seemed worried.
Desmond exhaled loudly and looked across the stretch of granite at Harry. "Harry?" he prompted.
When Anne turned to look at Harry for an explanation, he felt like he had just been thrown to the wolves. He looked at Desmond mournfully, but Desmond simply shrugged and nodded for him to go on.
"Bree…stayed over," Harry said quietly.
"Oh." Disappointment colored Anne's countenance, but she didn't address Harry any further. Instead she announced that she was going to get cleaned up and then head back to the hospital.
It was then that Harry understood how what he'd done hurt his parents. They thought he didn't care – that he was a lost cause. That spoke louder than any words Anne could have uttered.
* * *
Sunday was a quiet day. Bree talked to Harry briefly on the phone, only to hear him say that he'd call her later that night, but he didn't. She sent him a text, but he didn't respond. Knowing that he was back and forth visiting his sister at the hospital, she buried her insecure feelings deep within and got through her day.
On Monday, Bree drove herself to school in Johnny's truck, and tucked her immunization record in the glove compartment before she got out and headed into the school.
Tom was the first person she spotted, but he was with a few people Bree didn't recognize, so she waved from afar but didn't approach him. She scoured the campus for Harry, before deciding that he'd probably be waiting for her at her locker.
He was.
"Hey," she smiled when she caught sight of him.
"Sorry I didn't call you back last night," he mumbled. "Things were…weird and I didn't get back 'til late."
"Oh, I figured," Bree said, eager to disregard the tension between them. "I'm so glad we only have a half day today. Aren't you?"
"Always." Harry moved to the side to grant Bree entrance to her locker. As she began swapping books out, he reached in and grabbed a few of the brochures she'd collected from the college recruiters.
"What is this shit?" he asked as he leafed through the colorful brochure.
"Hell if I know," Bree scoffed in return as she looked over her shoulder to see what he was referring to.
"Well if you don't know what it is, why do you have it?"
At first, Bree had thought that he was playing around, but when she turned to face him, the serious look on his face threw her for a loop.
"Harry, what's going on?" she asked him, afraid of his answer.
"Smite college. Where the fuck is that?"
"Smith College. It's in Massachusetts." Bree grabbed the flyer away from him and shoved it back in her locker. "What's the matter with you."
"Nothing," Harry shrugged. "What's up with afterschool?"
"Oh…uh, I have an appointment. Do you want to meet up afterwards?" Bree asked. She purposefully concealed the fact that she had a doctor's appointment for fear that Harry would ask her what kind. The last thing she wanted him to know was that he'd fucked her so hard she thought he'd rattled something loose in there.
"Yeah. I'll call you."
But something in the way he said it made Bree unsure. Queue gnawing nervous feeling.
The school day was so short that Harry wondered why he had bothered coming to school at all. Quickly he located Tom and inquired about his afterschool plans. He hoped they included food because Anne hadn't been cooking and he'd been surviving on leftovers that weren't very appetizing.
"I'm starving," Harry hinted. "Where's Connie?"
"She's not coming. Some college recruiter is meeting with her in the counselor's office," Tom answered as he fished his keys out of his pocket.
Harry stopped walking beside Tom. "An appointment?"
"What?"
"Nevermind. Come on. I need to get out of here."
After grabbing a quick bite to eat, Tom said that he was supposed to pick Connie up from the school. Harry insisted upon being dropped off at home on the way. Now that his belly was full, he was no longer interested in hanging out. Instead, he wanted to go home and sulk about the turn of recent events.
When he entered his home, he heard Anne in the kitchen and silently cursed because whatever she was cooking smelled way better than what he'd just eaten.
"That smells great," Harry inhaled the scent of the heavenly food.
Anne offered a slight smile but didn't say anything in return. Instead, she returned the lid to a steaming pot and changed the setting of the stove temperature.
"Still giving me the silent treatment I see," Harry called her out. "That's real mature."
Anne started at his crack on her maturity and threw down the dishtowel she was holding.
"Harry." Anne simply whispered his name and shook her head back and forth.
Harry gave her a stare, challenging her to continue. "What?"
"I don't even know where to start."
"Look, I said I was sorry about…what happened while you guys weren't here. And I get that I should have been thinking more about Maddie…or whatever. What more do you want from me?"
"Respect, Harry. That's what I want from you. Respect for me, for your father and the rules we set, for this family, for yourself and for Bree.
"How am I disrespectful to Bree?" There was no use in asking how he disrespected his family. He already knew the answer to that.
"Harry, Bree has innocent written all over her," Anne stated with pursed lips.
"Don't say I took advantage of Bree, because I didn't. You weren't there. You don't know," Harry got defensive.
"Harry, sex is a big deal for a girl-"
"I already had the sex talk with Desmond."
"You had the safety talk with Desmond. You did not talk about the emotional ramifications sex has for girls."
When Harry remained silent, Anne knew she was right.
"Girls are…different, Harry. We are emotional beings. Bree wouldn't have slept with you if she didn't feel something emotional for you."
"I know that."
"But you…men, are more physical, by nature."
"Are you telling me that I don't care about Bree? Because that's just not true."
"How do you feel about her?"
Must to Anne's surprise, Harry started laughing – a menacing, maniacal laugh that resonated off the cherry wood and granite countertops.
"You want to know if I'm in love with Bree?" The smile disappeared quickly from Harry's face. "I know the difference between guys and girls, Mom. I know that girls dream about falling in love. They watch shows about it. They write notes about it. They chat on the phone for hours guessing about what it'll be like when it finally happens for them. But guys? We run from it. We see it happen to other people and swear we'll never be one of the ones that fall so hard for a girl that we barely know our own name. So believe me, when I say that I love Bree, I know what the hell I'm talking about because I'm the first one to know how much easier my life would be if I didn't."
Anne stared at Harry for a long time, watching him and taking in what he'd said. She'd said from the beginning that he and Bree had very deep feelings for one another, and in her opinion, those feelings had formed too quickly and too deeply for their age. But how could she make him see how scary it was for her, as a mother, to watch him walk this tightrope between a healthy, successful future and a life-altering downfall below. Did he know enough about life to know the risks he was taking? Had she and Desmond taught him enough?
Instead of ask all the questions that were swirling around in her mind, Anne simply touched her hand to his cheek. He let her stand there with her hand cupping his face, her thumb loving stroking his jaw.
"Bree's leaving, Mom," he said softly.
"What?" Anne smiled, thinking she hadn't heard him correctly.
"She's seeing all these college recruiters for far away places." Harry moved away from Anne then, finally speaking the words that had been haunting him since the college recruiters landed on the high school grounds.
"Harry, you guys still have to get through your senior year. So much can change in a year."
Harry shook his head. "If she's deciding that sh-stuff now, that means that she already ready to leave. She's already considering it because she knows I can't…"
"You can't what?"
"I can't go to college."
"Harry –"
"And don't tell me I can because I know I can't. I couldn't even read the damn college name on the paper they handed out – and don't think that Bree wasted any time letting me know how stupid I was for not knowing it."
"You just got finished telling me how much the two of you cared about each other. You really think this is what Bree thinks of you?" his mother asked.
Harry simply shrugged his shoulders and avoided eye contact.
"Harry, this is what I meant about respecting yourself. If you never learn to respect yourself for who you are, you'll never be able to accept respect from anyone else."