Page 126 of Untouchable

Harp trails off.

Parker doesn’t know what to say, doesn’t know how to process any of this, and so instead he just puts the steamer bag of broccoli in the microwave. He scrabbles around his brain for something to say, but his mind remains resolutely blank.

He’d wanted to talk with Harp, but he’d been so sure he’d never get the opportunity that he’s completely unprepared now it’s here.

“Harp, I—I—what do you want?” He pauses. “I didn’t—I didn’t mean it like that, but—I’m—I’m just really confused, okay?”

* * *

"I'm confused, too,"Harp says.

Something in him crumbles. Is he doing the wrong thing to reach out? Did Mindy misunderstand—not realize that Parker doesn’t want to give Harp the time of day?

He waits for Parker to fill up the space with the right words, the soothing words, the things that will smooth everything out between them and let them go back to being friends, at least. Parker volunteers nothing and Harp doesn't blame him, even if he isdisappointed.

"I want to know what you want. You told me to ask you. So this is me asking you: what are you feeling? What do you want?"

There’s a long pause and Harp’s heart falls.

“That’s not fair,” Parker says finally in a small voice. Harp starts to say something, but Parker barrels ahead, his voice a little stronger now. “You said you wanted to have this discussion but you wanted me to leave, then you kissed me and told me all this… stuff about your past, then you jumped out of my car and didn’t call me. I already—I already told you what I want. Or, at least—I—I’m not the one that asked for space.”

The last part comes out gently but Harp can’t help but feel the sting of it.

Harp is trying to wrap his mind around what's going on and he feels like he and Parker are having two separate, parallel conversations.

"That was before I told you. I just assumed you'd be done being anything but my massage therapist—if that—after you, y'know. Knew."

“Knew what?” Parker says. Harp can hear the sound of a microwave beeping and then someone tugging the door to it open.

"About... the fact that... Christ, Parker, do you want me to explain it again?" Harp clears his throat, prepared to do whatever he has to in order to figure out how to navigate this situation. "Everything I said in the car on Saturday."

“What, the shit about your ex-wife?” Parker asks. “I don’t—what does she have to do with anything?”

To have two decades of angst reduced down to "the shit about your ex-wife" hits Harp like a slap. He'd never considered how precious his own damage was to him until that moment. A thought for later, he knows, because whatever is happening here is miraculous. Parker sounds almost bored.

"That doesn't bother you about me?" Harp demands. "I made it clear that I—I mean I cheated and—"

“I just don’t see what it has to do with me,” Parker snaps. Harp can tell he’s losing his patience.

* * *

Parker istired and frustrated and heartsick, and hearing Harp’s voice hurts him more than he’d expected—hurts because this strange, awkward space between them feels so wrong. He has no idea what to make of all this, of Harp, who is hot and cold, open and closed off, set off by triggers Parker doesn’t understand and which Harp isn’t ready to explain.

It was so simple that night, Parker thinks, massaging his temples. Harp had said he cared about Parker, but he’d also said he needed Parker to leave. He’d appeared in Parker’s car, kissed him, and dumped into Parker’s lap an avalanche of his past, his secrets, his pain, before vanishing.

And he’d asked Parker to trust him.

But, as Parker had found over the last few days, he can’t trust. Not because of Harp, but because of himself. Because he’s too scared, too fucked up, too mired down in bad memories and baggage. As he listens, he steps out onto the little front porch, knowing Mindy will hear every word if he stays inside.

"The 48 hours I spent with you were better than I even dared to hope for anymore,” Harp says. “You treated me like a good person because I deceived you into thinking that I was a good person. So I guess it has to do with you because... because I don't fucking know, Parker. I don't know. I didn't think you'd ever want to talk to me again after what I told you. I thought you cancelled my appointment because of it."

“You’re doing that thing again,” Parker says, waving his hand in exasperation, though Harp can’t see him. “You’re assuming what I’m going to think and say and feel about you. And I can’t believe you would think that I’d be so unprofessional that I’d just… cancel our sessions because of something you did when I was a junior in high school. Like, that has nothing to do with me—”

Parker’s picking up momentum now, but he feels raw and electric and reckless.

“You were in the closet, weren’t you? And married to a woman? I’m not saying it was okay but… Do you think—what, like, I should be freaked out that you’re going to cheat on me? First off, we’re not dating. We kissed and you gave me a—well, you know. And second, it’s—it’s an entirely different situation. I don’t think you’re a bad person, Harp. I think you’re a good person who did bad things when he was in a bad place.”

He spits the words out and promptly loses momentum. He barely even knows what they’re arguing about anymore. He feels as though Harp wants him to be upset, but he doesn’t want to be upset.

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