Page 201 of Untouchable

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Harp has promisedhimself that he won't spend the entirety of Monday thinking about Parker. He's just trying to be healthy, and after spending days and days wrapped up in the person who is very much becoming the center of his universe, it's important, Harp thinks, to remember what it means to be alone and to think about his own life.

He forces himself to be mindful through his chores, to talk to himself and the dogs instead of reaching for his cell phone every ten minutes to text the first thought on his mind to Parker.

They're a bit beyond that, of course. It's not bad to be in touch during the day, and Harp isn’t trying to play games with him—but space, Harp thinks, is important now too. They have to let each other breathe.

Still, he's anxious about Parker's car and he knows Parker is supposed to be hearing back from the mechanic today. At three, he can't hold it off any longer and he texts Parker.

>>HARP: Heard anything back about the car? Been thinking about you today.

He feels a little guilty to say that when he's made such a concerted effort not to think about Parker—but it's true. Parker is forever at the edge of what he's doing now.

* * *

Parker stepsout of the office and takes a few moments to collect himself before he calls Harp—he’d like it if he weren’t always on the brink of tears when he talked to his boyfriend on the phone. It’s cold today, and he’d left his winter jacket inside. The wind cuts right through his sweatshirt.

“Hey,” Harp says in a friendly, cautious tone when he picks up on the first ring. “What’s up?”

“Hey,” Parker says, his voice a little shaky. “I’m, uh—okay.”

“What’s going on? What did the mechanic say?” Harp says. Parker grimaces out over the busy parking lot and ducks around the corner of the building for privacy, and to get out of the wind.

“Well, they didn’t have great news. On the bright side, he seemed genuinely regretful, but he said there’s not really any way around it. Apparently the… linkage component or something needs to be replaced, and there’s something with the radiator, and, on top of all that, the… body part of the car, like, the hood and shit, all has to be replaced. The quote they gave me is…” He heaves a sigh. “It’s gonna be like, eight thousand dollars.”

"Jesus. So that means it's totaled, then? Or are they actually going to repair it?" Harp asks.

“Well, I mean—” Parker cards his hand through his hair, running through the list of options he’s been compiling in his head all morning. None of them sound very good. “He said he can repair it, but… they don’t do like, payment plans and this would completely wipe out my savings, and that still wouldn’t cover even half of it.” He realizes his voice is getting tighter and higher as he thinks about how fucked he is. “I—look, Harp, I’m so fucking sorry, but—I don’t think I can spend Christmas with you. I really fucking want to—like, seriously, I can’t tell you how much I was looking forward to it, but—I talked to my mom and… they can… they will lend me the money to get it fixed if I go home for Christmas. So—I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry, but—I… I don’t really have any other options.”

"Don't be ridiculous. Why would you borrow money from them? I'll lend you the money, of course."

Parker winces.

“Harp—I—I can’t.”

He hates to admit it, but he’d considered this option, too. He hates knowing he’d had this thought before Harp offered it—it makes him feel slimy and greedy and manipulative. And there are so many reasons it’s a bad idea.

"Why not?” Harp says. “I have some boilerplate legal stuff I can fix up for us to protect us both—totally business. We can set up a payment plan if it'll make you feel better but, Christ, don't go to them right before Christmas."

Parker’s mouth falls open to debate Harp, but he’s somehow run out of reasons. His biggest concern had, of course, been mixing finances with a new relationship, but having a contract made that point moot.

“Are you—are you sure? I mean, it’s eight thousand dollars. That’s, like, a shit ton of money, and—”

* * *

"Parker...I don't mean to sound like an asshole here, but however long it takes you to pay back eight grand—or if you don't ever get a chance to pay it back—I'm not going to miss it," Harp says. "I got a huge settlement after my accident. I thought you knew this?"

Harp had assumed, simply because everyone in town seemed to know, that Parker knew the story of his accident and the settlement that had followed.

“Wait, like, an insurance thing?” Parker says with a frown.

"No—well—yeah I mean part of it went through their insurance. I was hit by a truck driver, they were clearly in the wrong, his company was insured to the gills, and they paid me... well, they paid me enough money to buy most of a mountain, if that tells you something. Enough that I could never work again in my whole life—and you too, if you wanted—if I didn’t like writing and publishing my own stuff, to some degree.”

Harp sighs. He feels like an asshole saying these things out loud, but he has millions at his disposal here. Eight thousand feels like nothing, and he doesn’t know how else to explain that to Parker. He would spend eight grand on a vacation tomorrow if Parker asked for it.

“I'm not going to miss the money it takes to get your car back on the road,” Harp says, finally. “It would be my pleasure to take that worry off your plate, Parker. I'd be offering this even if you were still just my massage therapist."

“But that’s… weird—”

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