chapter nineteen

Harris

A week passes, and I'm still grounded. Luckily for me though, I really enjoy hanging out with Grandma. And as an added bonus? So do Seb and Saanvi, who have been over every evening like clockwork since that first night of Parcheesi.

Mom speaks to me as little as possible, any "conversations" being had largely through Post-It notes left on the fridge and front door. I think she prefers paper messages over texting, because I can reply to text messages. Not that I have anything I want to say to her, either. I mean, what am I supposed to tell her? That I have fuzzy recollections of what happened that night, and I don't know what I can do about it? That this isn't fair, but I understand, but I'm frustrated that I can't tell her the truth, because I'm already enough of a disappointment?

"You're awfully quiet today," Grandma says between bites of gemelli pasta. I made pesto pasta for dinner, because it's easy and Grandma says that she's my prison warden, not my personal chef. Honestly, valid. Normally at this time of day, I cook for Mom too, so I'm used to it.

"Just thinking," I tell her. We're on the first episode of Dexter, because she and I both think it's melodramatic, our favorite kind of thing to mock.

"That's new."

On screen, Dexter stares into an empty box of donuts and says via voice over, "Just like me: empty inside." That elicits a solid laugh from both of us. I finish my pasta and set the bowl on the coffee table, eager to do anything but talk—anything to avoid serious conversation.

After a few minutes of silence, Grandma sighs and reaches out with the remote in hand to turn down the TV. "Are you okay, duckie?"

"I'm fine, Grandma. Don't worry about it."

She sighs. I keep my focus on the TV, but my skin begins to crawl, the anxiety that accompanies anticipating a conversation. "What happened at that party, Harrison?"

"Nothing," I insist, hating how whiny it comes out. "Don't worry, I'm fine."

"You're not fine." Her voice is sharp. "You've been acting strange, and if you don't tell me what's wrong, I'm going to make you suffer emotionally, physically, and spiritually."

My grandmother has very interesting approaches to normally sensitive topics. The threat may be empty ... or she could legitimately be planning on making me suffer. Either way, I'd rather not give everything away. It feels like too much of a risk. Mom and Grandma have this way of extracting information from me, and I'm a god-awful liar anyways.

Still. Maybe a little bit wouldn't hurt.

"I got really drunk," I tell her, still hesitant, "and kind of got into a fight with another guy from the track team."

"What was the fight about?" she asks. When I don't answer, she adds, "Was it a boy?"

"No," I tell her. It's a lie, of course. I can vaguely remember asking him why he cheated on Seb. The fact that I asked that, when it's hardly my business, is one thing. Asking it in front of all those people was just straight-up disrespectful. I fucking outed him. I feel terrible. I've been wanting to reach out to apologize, but I haven't been able to muster up the courage yet.

"You're a terrible liar."

I'm so tired of this already. "Grandma, I—"

"Is it Sebastian?"

I stay silent.

"Okay," she says, nodding. "I can't say I disprove. He's a cutie."

This time, I groan. "Grandma, I—"

"Shut up," she says. "Just, shut up. Don't be a little asshole."

"Sorry."

"So who was the other man?" she asks, leaning in and whispering, as if I'm giving her hot gossip in the middle of a crowded room.

"He's not really the other man—"

"Harrison. Quit being useless. You know better."

"Jesus, woman, fine. Evan Miller. You don't know him."

Grandma scrunches up her face to glare at me, her wrinkles deepening as she frowns. "What do you mean, I don't know him? Neil's son."

Not her, too. "Oh my god, I can't. Who the fuck is Neil?"

"He works with your mother. But this isn't about Neil. Don't make this about Neil."

"But I feel like it should be. How do you and Mom know him?"

Grandma swats my arm. "Stop trying to change the subject."

I hold my hands up in mock surrender. "Fine, fine, I yield. We ... we only fought because he cheated on Seb a while back. They were dating in secret—Grandma, you can't tell anyone, neither of them are out."

"Ally till I die," Grandma says, raising her hand up and placing the other atop her heart. "Which, with any luck, will be any day now."

I roll my eyes. "Anyways, yeah. I was super drunk, and I asked him why he cheated on him, and next thing I know, there's a fist in my face and I'm bleeding all over."

"Yeeeesh," says Grandma. "You just let him clock you like that? Pussy."

"Grandma! I was drunk as fuck."

"So? I broke my hand once in a bar fight, and I was so drunk that I could barely remember it the next day."

"You were in a bar fight?" Nothing she says surprises me anymore. Nothing at all.

"Yeah, this asshole said, 'If you were a man, I'd meet you outside,' and all I know is, I said, 'If you were a man, I'd go.' Honestly, what a little bitch. Worth it."

I shake my head. "You're something else."

"Yeah, that'll be you next if you don't tell me the rest of what happened."

"Nothing else happened!" I insist. My voice is so strained, I can feel the painful tightness in my throat. It travels down to my chest, seeping into my ribcage and constricting so that my aching organs press against it.

Grandma turns the TV off completely and turns to me. Her sparse eyebrows are unruly, the white, wiry hairs curling around in different directions. I focus on those instead of making actual eye contact. It's easier that way.

"Harrison," she says. There's a softness to her voice that I don't often hear. "You can tell me. What happened?"

"Nothing." I'm going to cry. I don't remember the last time I cried. Aside from that night, of course.

"Harrison—" The doorbell rings.

"I'll get it," I say and launch myself toward the door. Saanvi and Seb are a little earlier than they said they'd be, but I don't mind it. Really, this is the perfect time—

"Hey," Liam says, one hand in his pocket. His right arm is in a cast, a new look for him. I see a few signatures scrabbled in black Sharpie. There's a stiff-looking bandage on his nose too. Did he break it somehow? Was this all from that night? I can't breathe. "Can we talk?"

Fuck. I feel like I'm going to throw up. I don't know why, I just do.

"Sorry," I tell him, "but now isn't a good time."

As if he doesn't hear me, Liam takes a step closer to the door. A step closer to me. Fuck. Fuck. No. Fuck. I have to force myself to stay still, to not take a step back like my body is screaming at me to do. It's like I feel his teeth on my throat all over again, his fingers furled in the back of my hair, yanking my head back. Something I hadn't recalled in such vivid detail till just now. I want to throw up, again.

"It'll be quick, I promise." His voice is quiet, too quiet. Too soft. Too sweet. Why is he standing so close? He shouldn't be that close. I want to tell him to stop, to leave, to get out, but I'm at a loss. "I wanted to apologize."

There's a shuffling behind me. "Apologize for what?" comes Grandma's voice. She stands next to me in the open doorway, her eyes squinted like she's trying to figure out just what she's looking at. "Is this that Liam boy I've heard so much about?"

Grandma definitely knows it's him. She's met Liam before, plenty of times. But there's something on her voice this time, an unveiled threat of sorts. Like Mom, she's always hated him, but she plays nice (by her standards). The sudden change in Grandma's attitude is puzzling, even amongst the sudden anxiety I feel. I can't quite figure it out, but I'm sure my inexplicable reaction to him showing up hasn't helped any.

Liam visibly pales, his expression going slack before he quickly recovers. "Sorry, Granny Mac—"

"Mrs. McCammon," Grandma corrects coolly.

He blinks. "Right. Mrs. McCammon. I just wanted to have a quick word with Harrison here about the other night. We won't be long, don't worry. I won't take up too much of his time."

"Unfortunately, you won't be taking up any of his time," says Grandma. "Harrison is grounded, and I don't feel like having to babysit any potentially unruly guests. Try again another time. Now, you have a good night, Liam."

"Wait, Harris, real' quick, I—"

She shuts the door in his face. And then she locks it, for good measure.

"That boy is trouble," she mutters. Then she glances back at me, and there's a different kind of concern in her eyes. "But you already know that, don't you?"

"Grandma, nothing happened," I insist.

"Didn't say anything did." She purses her lips. "Let's ... let's watch a different show. Something light and fluffy, how about that? Something with less murder. I know, how about that Poker Face show your mama told me about?"

"Uh, it's all about murder, Grandma."

"Oh, pshaw," she says, waving her hand. "I'm just sick of having to look at cut up prostitutes."

"Very fair," I tell her, ignoring some of that tight-yet-hollow feeling in my chest. I can't believe he showed up here like that. Really, beyond anything else, it makes me feel unsafe. But I can't say that, especially to Grandma. I'm sure she suspects what happened, maybe even beyond what I myself remember. I mean, why else would she have turned him away like that? Still, I can't talk to her about this. I won't.

I need to know what all went down that night. Even if it's scary.

I'll just have to talk to Seb. When I can get up the courage, that is.

A/N - what's up, party people??