Page 18 of Harper

“Was that so hard?”

Yes. No. I don’t know. I shrug, walking past him to search for another stone.

“How’s it going with you?” he asks.

I shrug again, kicking aside a clump of dry seaweed to find two good skipping stones hidden underneath.

“We have some really intense history,” I say, walking past him back to the water.

“Yeah,” he agrees. “We do.”

“That means…” I skip one stone, then clench the other in my palm, staring out at the mountains. “We can’t be friends, Joe.”

“Why not?”

I skip the other stone, watching it sail away across the top of the water. One-two-three-four. Plunk.

“We were never just friends. Not really. We don’t know how to do that.”

And besides, it’s not what I want. Not from you.

“We could learn.”

I cross my arms over my chest again, hugging myself.

“I don’t think so,” I tell him. I glance at him over my shoulder. “But you’re right—I should be more…civil. I should say hello when we cross paths. I’m sorry I haven’t. That was immature of me.”

He takes a deep breath. “When you came back, Harp, I hoped…”

I should tell him to stop talking, but I don’t. I want to hear what he has to say, and he knows me well enough to take my silence as encouragement. I hear him take a step closer to me, and even though I’m still staring at the mountains, I can see him in my peripheral vision, standing beside me.

“I hoped that maybe we could…I don’t know…give things a second chance.”

A lump in my throat makes it hard to swallow. My eyes fill with tears.

You wouldn’t want me in your life if you knew everything…if you knew what I did. You would hate me with a depth and finality that I wouldn’t be able to bear.

“Joe, I just don’t—”

“Harp, I’ve never met anyone else who I—”

“Stop,” I say, my voice strangled and broken. I turn to him, and there it is in his eyes, as crystal clear and deep as it ever was—Joe’s love for me…but only because he doesn’t know me. Not really. “I have to go.”

I swipe at my eyes as I start walking back up the beach.

“Harper!” he calls, torment filling his voice.

I look at him over my shoulder, not even trying to conceal my tears.

“Forget me, Joe,” I tell him. “It’s for the best. I promise you. It really is.”

Then I turn around and walk back to town alone.

***

Joe

Although it takes some effort not to, I’m not going after her right now. I think we could both use a few minutes to collect our bearings.

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