Page 35 of Harper

“No,” she says. “There’s no one else.” She looks at me, her eyes slightly narrowed. “How about you? Are you with anyone?”

I look down at my glass, taking a sip of limeade so I can think for a second. Do I owe her an explanation about Avery? It only takes a second for me to decide that I don’t. What Avery and I have doesn’t mean anything, which means it doesn’t matter.

“Am I with anyone?” I shake my head as I put my glass down. “No.”

She looks suspicious at first, then relieved, which makes me happy because it means she cares. But almost immediately, her expression hardens again, whisking away any emotion that softened it.

“It wouldn’t work,” she tells me through clenched teeth. “It’s too late. Believe me.”

“What does that even mean?” I demand. “Why is it too late? What happened?”

“You’d hate me,” she whispers, sliding to the edge of her seat and standing up. “I have to go.”

“Wait! What? I could never hate you, Harper! I still love you. I’ve always loved you. Just, please, give us a second chance.” I lean forward in my chair, clasping my hands together as though in prayer.

“I can’t.” She places her glass on the table. “I promise you, Joe, you don’t want to be with me.”

“Don’t tell me what I fucking want,” I growl at her.

“I’m sorry,” she says, turning away from me. “I really am. I should leave.”

“Then leave,” I tell her, disappointment and frustration making my tone rough. “That’s what you’re good at, Harper. Leaving.”

“I’m sorry,” she whispers again.

Then, she walks down the stairs of the deck and drives away, leaving me angry, confused, and alone.

Ten Years Ago

Harper

“Harper, come on! Can’t you rally?”

“I think I caught a stomach bug,” I tell my roommate Chloe.

She’s standing in our shared dorm room, checking herself out in the full-length mirror. Dressed as a sexy kitty, complete with whiskers, furry ears, a black bodysuit, black tights, and a tail, she’s ready for Halloween. Meanwhile, my cat costume is still hanging in my closet. I’m lying in bed, trying to ignore the waves of nausea threatening to make me puke for the third time this evening. “I feel like shit.”

“Aw. Sorry, boo.” She adjusts her ears, then catches my eyes in her reflection. “Do you mind if I go without you? I feel bad leaving you sick and solo, but it’s our last UDub Halloween!”

“You go,” I groan. “Have fun.”

“I have to get tampons at Rite Aid on the way home,” she says. “Can I bring you back anything? Tums? Mouthwash?”

“Maybe a ginger ale?” I ask, hugging my pillow to my chest and closing my eyes.

“You got it,” she says, grabbing her black clutch and heading out. “Bye!”

“Bye,” I mutter, trying to breathe through another wave of nausea. It doesn’t work. I barely make it to the bathroom before I’m puking yellow bile into the toilet. There’s nothing left in my stomach. Gross.

Sitting down on the cold tile floor, I wipe my mouth with the dregs of toilet paper left on the roll. Opening the cabinet under the sink, I grab a new roll, spying my own tampons—a full, unused box—in the back corner.

Wait a second.

A full, unused box?

That means…I never got my period in October.

A chill slides down my back as I try to remember if I got it in September, but I already know the answer. That box in the back of the cabinet came with me from home at the beginning of September. It was unopened then. And it’s still unopened now. I haven’t gotten my period since returning to Seattle.

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