"One, two, three... here comes the choo choo train."
"Harry, stop."
"C'mon, Greta," he sighs out, annoyed. "Just open your mouth. Choo choo."
"Harry," I glare at him again, shaking my head.
"Greta."
"Harry."
"Greta," he blinks quickly, batting his eyelashes. "My sweet, sweet, Greta, please do this for me. You are so pretty, you know that? So pretty. And when you smile," I try to fight it back but it obviously doesn't work and a wide smile takes over as my cheeks redden at his compliment. "See, there you go! When you smile, I swear I hear birds chirping... you know, and rainbows shining, and babies laughing, everything lovely in the world happens when you smile."
"That was corny," I snort.
I try to maintain my glare on Harry, still fighting back the smile that's ever growing on my face, but it hardly lasts... especially since he keeps batting his eyelashes while holding the spoon filled with banana split in front of my face. It's like he's silently begging me to play along in his game. And with each second that passes, each longing gaze from his direction, it gets harder and harder to resist.
"So appreciative," he shakes his head, mumbling out the words sarcastically. "I mean every word of it though, I could get lost in that smile."
"You're really trying to butter me up," I giggle, unable to resist his charming words.
"That's exactly my plan," he grins. "Has it worked yet? Will you please open your mouth? This train is starting to get very impatient. We're about t-minus five seconds away from it crashing into your face. It's on a roll, Greta, and the brakes are not strong enough to stop it at this speed."
"You're such an idiot."
"Five... four... three..." he slowly counts down, moving the spoon filled with ice cream closer and closer to my face.
"Harry," my eyes go wide. "You wouldn't."
"I would," he nods quickly, still moving the spoon closer. "Two..."
Sensing the seriousness with the ice cream quickly approaching my mostly closed mouth, I give in. My decision is made quickly, which I'm thankful for because Harry wasn't hesitating in the slightest and I know that if I had kept it closed the ice cream would be all over my face instead of on my tongue like it is now. It's sweet and the chocolate is strong, the whip cream that was on top quickly melting.
Harry stares at me, holding the spoon in my mouth and nods his head with his eyebrows raised high, happy that I finally decided to play along. I feel his other hand that's wrapped around me, his fingers lightly tapping on my shoulder. He's close to me, sitting on the same side of the booth in the small restaurant we're in, which feels a little ironic considering how empty it is in here.
His legs repeatedly bump into mine as he rocks them back and forth, bouncing his foot up and down. I look at the way his hair falls to his shoulders, pushed back so it doesn't get into his eyes. His worn t-shirt is pressed into the side of my arm, the fabric feeling soft and warm. It's already extremely hot in this restaurant, the ceiling fan hardly doing anything to help, but I still want Harry closer, pressing his warm body into mine.
Besides, that's why we have ice cream in the first place.
"See," he pulls the spoon away, setting it back in the dish filled with banana split. "That wasn't that hard, was it?"
"No," I smile. "Now can we stop pretending I'm a child?"
"Request granted," he nods, moving the same spoon to his mouth, now filled with a new pile of ice cream. "You are obviously not a child... very much a woman, who doesn't put up with my shit but likes me enough that'll she give in every once in a while."
"You sure about that?" I raise my eyebrows at him, pulling my legs off the ground.
Harry's arm is still around me, his face still extremely close, but he looks off to the side as though he's making a very important decision. He hums to himself, maintaining the look of concentration as he nods slowly.
"Yes," he turns to me again, his eyes looking straight into mine as his thumb rubs over the skin of my shoulder. "I'm completely, entirely, a hundred percent positive of this. You want to know how I know why?"
"Absolutely."
"Because you're you, Greta," he smiles. "And you like making people happy."
I can't exactly explain it, but there is a strange rush of feelings pulsing through my body as he says this. It's complicated because it's a mixture of many different emotions. And because of this it's hard to pin point if I'm okay with it or not.
There's happiness in the sincerity of Harry's words, how I can tell he means it in the most genuinely sweet way that's possible. I'm also happy with the way he says it. It's like it's something that should be so blatantly obvious, that I shouldn't even have to question it... like he is telling me how much he appreciates that part of me.
Happiness isn't the only aspect of this mixture though, which confuses me on how I'm supposed to feel about it. I like that I like to make people happy. I think it's a perfectly good quality and something that truly brings me joy. But I also have to think about when it becomes too much, when I'm too focused on the other persons happiness that I forget about my own.
I don't think I'm approaching this with my friendship, or whatever this is, with Harry. I know I still have to put my wants and needs above his, and I feel like I'm in a much better position to maintain this. But I can still care about him and do everything I can to make him happy. The important thing for me to keep in mind is that I should only be doing this if it's something that brings me happiness too.
This isn't what worries me or causes conflicting thoughts in my head. I trust Harry enough to understand that, and reciprocate the same thing back, but I am worried what this says of me as a person. I'm afraid that I'll get too wrapped up in this too quickly, and forget about all of these standards I've set for myself.
That and I know I'm not doing a very good of making the majority of the people in my life happy. In fact, I'm doing near the opposite.
"But you know what else," Harry continues after my long silence, obviously sensing that something is off with me. "You're also good at making yourself happy. That's part of you too."
I shake my head at him, unsure of how he came to that conclusion. "What?" I move my gaze back to his position in the seat. "I don't think I see that one, Harry."
"Isn't that why you're here in the first place?" he's quick to respond. "You weren't happy with where you were, some events led up to that unhappiness that I'm still not fully in the loop of, which is fine... but yeah, you were unhappy so you left. You went to find some."
"But in my search I'm also going against that other aspect of me that's very strong," I explain to him. "I'm making quite a few people very unhappy at the moment."
"Yeah," he nods, agreeing with me. "However, I'd argue that in this case that the correct decision is still being made. Greta, your happiness matters just as much as the rest of us."
Any time I start to have doubts in my head that I'm making an awful, awful decision, Harry says something that reminds me why I'm here in the first place... and why it's so important that I still am. It's like he's this voice of reason, someone to keep me on the right track, even if that track is a little off the norm of the average person.
I try to figure out how I got lucky enough to meet him. I try to understand how a decision based on everything bad in my life led me to someone who is so... good.
But maybe that's what makes us good. That I want to make him happy and he wants to make me happy. I know he does, I can tell with every word that comes out of his mouth that he's trying to ease my mind, make me laugh or smile... to forget about the things that make me sad.
"Besides, you're making at least one other person happy," he smiles again, scooping another bite of ice cream into his mouth.
"Really?" I smile back at him. "And who would that be?"
He doesn't answer right away, pushing the ice cream around in the glass dish on the table. I feel his arm tighten around me, pulling me in closer to him. I don't fight back as he does, my head falling onto his shoulder and my arm wrapping around his stomach.
Of course I already have a pretty good feeling of what the answer is. He's essentially answered it with his actions and the position we're in now. But it's still nice to hear him say it, to hear the words and know that he means them.
"Me, Greta," he breathes out softly. "You make me happy. Just by being you... that's all I need."
My heart feels like it's about to burst with his words, like it can't handle just how sweet Harry is. The smile on my face grows as my head rests on his shoulder and I feel so overwhelmingly happy.
"Harry, how are you so nice?" I ask, looking up at him.
"Don't know," he shrugs, sticking his lips out in a funny pucker. "Feels like there is enough bad in the world, enough bad that I've had to face myself... figured I can try to counteract at least a portion of it. It isn't hard, being nice, it doesn't take much, you know?"
What he says makes perfect sense. It isn't that difficult to be nice, but it doesn't explain the level of niceness that's in him. I've met plenty of nice people, I'd even consider myself one of them, but Harry's different... there's more to him than that. I know I haven't known him long, our time together is just a small fraction compare to the rest of our lives but I know there's more it to than that. Harry isn't just nice... he's completely one of a kind.
And while I can't quite put my finger on the right words to describe him, I think it's obvious to every person he meets that there is something special about him.
"I'm not perfect though," he breathes out, interrupting my praising of him inside my head.
"Huh?" I lean away, sitting upright in the booth seat.
"I'm not a perfect person, Greta," he repeats, turning his body to face mine. "You're smart, I know you don't believe that sort of thing... we're all humans and we make mistakes. I guess I just don't want you to forget that. I'm not perfect."
"Of course not, Harry," I nod quickly, listening to the tone of his voice change from the playfulness of earlier to something much more serious.
It wouldn't be fair of me to put Harry on this pedestal. Even if the majority of his actions and words that come out of his mouth are close to perfect, I can't forget that he is human and he doesn't always make the right decision. Just like a few days earlier when he left to go on the bus away from me. I was disappointed and I'm sure one of the reasons it hurt so bad was because I started to put it in my head that Harry could do no wrong.
Things are easy with us. Our conversations come naturally, he makes me laugh more than anyone else I've ever met and it's a rare occasion when I feel legitimately awkward around him. It isn't hard to pretend that he's perfect in my head, especially since he's done very little to prove otherwise.
But I have to nod to him, to tell him that I know he isn't perfect. It wouldn't be fair to do that to him or the both of us really.
"There are things that I've done that I'm not exactly proud of," he continues, looking off to the side. "Things that aren't particularly... good. I'm good at pretending, smiling through it, but that doesn't mean it doesn't happen to me too. You understand that, yeah?"
I get what he's asking. He knows this is how I feel in a lot of aspects of my life and that we can relate to each other in this sense. I nod my head again but it feels like a pile of new information is being thrown at me.
From everything I've gathered these last few weeks with him I would have never gained this impression. I know things aren't good with his family, in particular his dad, but the way he talks to me now makes me realize that there is probably a lot more to it that I don't know yet. It feels like there are other things that have happened in his life, or are still happening now, that left a lasting effect that he'd rather not have to feel, like it's something that he generally keeps away. But he's just the same as everyone else and we all have our weaknesses.
One of the first days I met him he told me I looked like someone he could tell his secret to, and I have a feeling we're starting to get this point.
It reminds me of why I'm here in the first place, what drove me to this point in my life and how I've used this as a way to escape from everything else. Harry's said that this is an adventure for him, something to tell his grandkids when he's older but I still have my doubts on just how true that is.
I believe that he's doing this for adventure. Harry is an adventurous person and very willing to put himself in somewhat risky situations to reach a couple minutes of thrill. But I highly doubt this is sole reason for traveling across the country on a series of busses, because if it was I don't think he'd want to spend so much time with me.
"What about your friend?" I ask, changing the subject after minutes of silence between us.
"Hmm?" he looks at me, scrunching his eyebrows hard. It's very clear he doesn't know what I'm talking about, but it's difficult to tell if it's because of my sudden change in subject or if it's something else.
"You know," I cross my legs in front of me, squishing my body between the sticky table and the cushioned chair we're sitting on. "Your friend in New Jersey... the one you're going to visit."
Harry stares at me a moment longer, pushing his hands down his legs and over the tight denim of his jeans. I see his eyes dart forward to the side like he's searching for the answer somewhere inside his head. It takes him a moment to remember what I'm talking about, which is something that really sticks with me and I find myself thinking more about it as he answers my question.
"Right," he nods quickly, playing with the ice cream in front of us, moving the spoon back and forth. "I actually talked to them this morning."
"Really?" I reply before he has a chance to get anything else out. This is news to me because I don't remember him talking to anyone besides me and the few other people we've interacted with today.
"Yeah," he nods again, still not looking at me. "While you were in the shower. I had a chat with them on the phone."
Again I find myself feeling surprised. I can't remember a time since I've known Harry where he's talked to anyone on the phone. Unlike me, he does have it on the majority of the time and I have seen him text a few people or play an occasional game of bejeweled, but phone calls are another story.
"Oh," I scoot closer to him, putting my hands in his lap. "And what did you talk about?"
"Well," he smiles, reaching for my hand and squeezing it tightly. The energy between us shifts again and I can tell that the seriousness between us from seconds ago is slowly fading away. "I mentioned that I met an extremely nice girl who I found to be very distracting."
"A nice girl, huh?"
"Mhmm," he nods, still holding onto my hand. "Told them how pretty she is and how I haven't made it very far yet because of it... it's very hard to want to go far when waking up in hotel rooms with her feels more appealing than the final destination."
"So, you don't want to go your friend then?" I ask, unsure of where he's going with this, my curiosity taking over the butterflies in my stomach from his kind words.
I never had an exact destination, from the beginning there was nowhere in particular I had planned on going... but I was starting to look forward to the ocean. To reach something that had a fraction of meaning rather than continue on this journey aimlessly.
"No," he shakes his quickly. "I still want to. I just warned them that I'm not in a huge rush, which they already knew. I like this easy pace with you."
"Me too."
Harry and I are traveling at a Louis and Clark speed with our trek across the country. We haven't made it extremely far and I think it's because it's easy to get caught up in the little charms of a small town. It doesn't help that I would be perfectly happy laying with Harry for two days straight, making it even more difficult to hop from place to place.
I know it doesn't take this long to travel across the country, my mom used to do it every summer with her family. She's told me they would all pile up in the station wagon and drive nearly nonstop as they went to visit their cousins in Pennsylvania. Harry and I are approaching three weeks with our adventures together and we've barely made it half way. I know for a fact that my mom's trip as a kid only took a handful of days.
We're dragging this out but I don't think either of us minds.
"They did ask for an approximation for my arrival... you know, so they could be prepared."
"And what did you tell them?" I ask because I have hard time estimating just how long it could be until we made it there.
"I said it wouldn't be more than another three weeks," he says the words calmly, like he's already planned it out in his head. "Do you think we could manage that?"
"Yes," I nod but with a slight hesitation because I don't want to think too much about what happens after that.
I know I can't do this forever. Eventually I'm going to run out of money or I'm going to get so sick of busses that I won't even be able to look at another one, but right now it's hard to imagine myself doing anything else.
It isn't a sustainable way to live however. I can only get by for so long, temporarily living in hotel rooms, staying in new places every night before I'll have to settle myself. The settling part is the thing that's a mystery to me though. I don't even want to begin to think about what happens after this.
"Wait," my feet fall to the ground, jerking me forward slightly. "Where are we?"
Harry laughs at me and my near oblivion to our location. It's difficult to keep track as everything starts to look the same. The hotels mesh into one image in my head, the busses nearly exact copies of each other, and diners like the one we're sitting in now all have the same feel to them, which makes it hard to distinguish anything clearly in my brain. It's hard to pay attention to those details when my thoughts are too wrapped up in Harry.
"Utah," Harry answers, still laughing slightly. "Almost to Wyoming actually. We're finally starting to get some distance."
"That isn't very far," I say as I think about the mental map of the United States I have in my head.
Mileage wise it's a distance, but when you think about the number of states separating me from Oregon it's clear that we haven't gained much space between.
In some ways it doesn't feel like this though. In a way Portland and my life there seems like light years away, something that happened in a completely different time. It's difficult to imagine how I would be spending my days if I were still there now.
I'm sure it would be something along the lines of stacking books on the shelves by day and smiling to customers as they walked into Powell's. Keeping myself occupied with my job as I waited for the summer to pass and school to come back in session. I'd eat breakfast with my mom and Blair, who would be on her phone the entire time ignoring any of my mom's pressing questions.
Laurel would take up the majority of my nights, dragging me to some social event I have close to no interest in. The nights she had other plans, I'd sit in my room and read or daydream... wanting to do something like I'm doing now.
If I would have stuck around after everything happened it's possible I'd be talking to my family right now. Sure, we were angry with each other, disappointed and a little worried, but I don't think we wouldn't be speaking after three weeks of being stuck in the same house together.
That's never been my mom's styles anyways. She rarely goes a few hours before confronting an issue. She approaches them like a court case, letting everyone tell their side of the story before we come to a conclusion that we can all live with. It was different this time around though. She let her emotions take over and scolded me for something I only meant to help in. And she wasn't quick enough to catch me to have the normal court room discussion.
I was already gone.
I never thought I'd be one of those people who didn't talk to their families. Even if some of the relationships within it are not ideal, I always thought it was good enough. It's not that I don't want to talk to them, the majority of my anger and disappointment has faded away since leaving, but it almost feels like it's been too long now.
As soon as this thought crosses my mind I know how silly I'm being. My mom isn't one to hold grudges, maybe Pat, but everyone else isn't going to disregard me after a few weeks of minimal communication. Plus, Laurel's already expressed many times that they miss me. This doesn't mean they won't be angry still, but they miss me... and that feels nice.
"I think I'm going to call my family today," I suddenly burst out, letting my thoughts come out of my brain.
Harry looks over at me surprised, a mouthful of ice cream and wide eyes takes over his face. My hands are still on the top of his legs as we sit close to each other, but they're fidgety with my new decision. After Harry takes a moment to really process what I've just said he smiles widely, setting the spoon back down in the glass dish.
"That's a great idea," he nods while his hand laces in mine again. "When?"
"Now," I say without thinking.
"Now?"
"Err," my decision finally hits me and suddenly I don't feel nearly as brave. "Yes, right now."
Harry nods again. He's still smiling but it feels like a different one than when I first announced my plan. Originally it was filled with pride, slight shock, but mostly pride. Now, it's like he's trying to remind that it's going to be okay, like he's cheering me on.
"Do you want me with you?" he asks, rubbing the top of my hand.
I'm not entirely sure how I want to answer this question. Part of doesn't want him there because it's probably something I should do on my own, it is my family. But the other part of me is enthusiastically nodding yes because I know with Harry there it won't feel like such an obstacle to get over.
"Yeah," I nod slowly, still contemplating my decision. He won't be involved in the actual conversation though. He doesn't even have to be there the entire time... it will just be nice to have someone to lean on.
We finish the banana split, Harry insisting on the choo choo train bit once more, which I give into. It makes me laugh and I don't feel nearly as nervous at what I'm about to do, which I'm sure this was his intention in the first place.
He pays the woman at the register and we thank her quietly. We walk slowly out of the restaurant, Harry still holding my hand, and make our way across the parking lot to a curb facing where we just came from. I sit down and Harry follows me. We don't talk but I still feel that sense of support, like he's telling me I can do it.
I want to hesitate. I want to prolong the phone call, but with Harry's closeness I find it difficult to do. Moments later the phone is ringing against my ear, waiting for someone to pick up on the other side.
"Greta?" I hear my mom's voice. It's shaky and nervous with uncertainty.
"Hi, Mom," I nearly whisper, barely a sound coming out of my mouth.
"Greta," she repeats my name, this time gasping. "Oh my god, Greta."
And when she bursts into tears, sobbing on the other side, I find it impossible to hold back myself. For the first time since I left home I really, really, let myself feel everything. So I cry too, holding the phone to my ear and hearing my mom say my name over and over again on the other side.
The majority of it is caused by all of the emotions that are so deeply embedded in finally talking to her after weeks of nothing. But I'd be lying if I didn't say a fraction of it was caused by some happiness too. Because when I look up with blurry tear filled eyes and feel Harry's arms wrap around me tightly, rocking me back and forth and kissing the top of my head, I realize something.
I realize how long I've waited for someone like Harry, and just how easy it's going to be to love someone like him.
Which, I find both scary and wonderful at the same time.
...
Just wanted to point out that Greta isn't saying that she actually loves Harry... just acknowledging that it'd be easy to do so. She feels very strongly about him but I don't think "love" is the right way to describe it at this point. Even though they've had a very quick connection, it feels a little rushed to claim that.
Hope that makes sense. Thanks for reading!