Page 204 of The Charlie Method

For a moment, I think he’s going to shrug me off again, but then his shoulders drop. “I’ve had a shitty week,” he admits.

“What happened?”

“My adoptive dad,” he starts, then strains his features as if the words are hard to get out. “He got arrested for drunk driving this week.”

I blink, taken aback. “Oh my God. Was anyone hurt?”

“No. Thankfully. Totaled his truck, but he hit a tree, not another car. There was this whole thing at my grandparents’ house. They confronted him about it, and it turned into a big fight. He stormed out, drunk again, of course. It’s been a mess.”

I don’t know what to say at first. The wind stirs around us, the heaviness of his emotions settling in the air.

“I’m so sorry. That sounds awful.”

“It is. I don’t even know how to deal with it. I hate him, Hae. Like, Iloathethat man.”

“That’s a lot to handle. Have you talked to anyone about it? A therapist? Friend?”

He shakes his head, kicking at the ground again. “Not really. What’s the point? Nothing’s gonna change.”

I take a breath, trying to think of something comforting to say. “I know it feels hopeless, but you don’t have to carry this by yourself. I’m here, okay? You can talk to me. Anytime.”

“Thanks.” He sounds noncommittal.

We start walking again, the path winding through a patch of trees, and I wish there were more I could do to help him. I wanted today to be about celebrating him, but he’s clearly not in a celebratory mood.

I think about the gift tucked in my backpack and wonder if maybe it’ll help. It’s not much, but it’s something.

I nudge him gently with my elbow. “Hey, I know it’s been a rough week, but itisyour birthday, and I got you a present.”

He glances at me, the corners of his mouth twitching, but it’s not quite a smile. “You didn’t have to do that.”

“I wanted to.”

I spot a bench in the distance, tucked on the edge of the path overlooking the river, and guide him toward it. As he sits, I pull my backpack into my lap to unzip it, then reach inside. My hand emerges with the small tissue-paper-wrapped bundle, which I give to Harrison.

“I didn’t get you a card,” I say sheepishly. “I’m bad at writing in cards.”

That earns me a genuine smile. “Me too. I never know what to write.”

After a beat of hesitation, he peels off the piece of tape keeping the tissue paper together. His brow furrows when he sees what’s inside.

“Is this…” He lifts his gaze to mine, his throat dipping as he swallows. “Tokki.”

I’m caught in a weird state of nostalgia and nerves as I watch him stroke the stuffed animal’s soft, floppy ears, the sun catching its faded gray fur. Tiger AKA Tokki is worn after years in my possession.

“I’ve had him for twenty-one years,” I say, offering a tentative smile. “I thought maybe you’d like to have him back for a while. Take over babysitting duties.”

Harrison’s expression softens, and for the first time today, I feel like we’re connecting. Like maybe we can build something from this, from a shared memory and the fact that we found each other after all these years.

But then the darkness creeps back in. His face hardens, and he shoves Tokki back at me. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“I just thought—”

“You thought what? That this would fix everything?” He glares at me. “You think a stupid stuffed animal is gonna make up for the fact that you got adopted by a family that actually gave a shit, while I got stuck with that monster?”

“Harrison, no, that’s not what I—”

“He beat me, Hae. He burned me with cigarettes. Did you know that? And while he was doing that, you were living the good life with your perfect fucking family. I didn’t get to grow up in some cozy little home. I got stuck with an abusive drunk who treated me like garbage. And now you want to give me this stupid bunny like it’s supposed to make everything better? Like it erases the fact that I got left behind?”

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