Page 236 of Burn Bright
I rest my canvas duffel on the ground. She hasn’t seen it yet. “Did you go to the bodega for party supplies or did you write your paper?” I tease.
“I did both.” Harriet dumps the pizza bites into a bowl. “I figure if you’re not up for talking, we can do an animated movie.”
I come closer. “I thought you hate animated movies.”
“I find them cheesy, which is low on the hate scale. You saidThe Wild Robotis good, right?”
I slide a hand along her back. “Yeah, I like that one.” A knot forms in my chest. How am I going to get through this? How am I going to getherthrough this? “Harriet…”
She sets the baking sheet aside, then tugs off the daisy-patterned oven-mitt. Concern cinches her face into a darker scowl. “We don’t have to even stay here. If you need to go outside, we can do a walk or…what do you need, Ben?”
I push my fingers through my hair. “I need you to be okay.”
“Iam. I have been. I’m concerned aboutyou.”
“I’ll be okay knowing you are.”
“That’s so not true.” She threads her arms, more on guard like she’s prepared to battle my demons. “I can see it all over you right now. Something is really fucked up.”
“That would be me,” I mutter. “I am fucked up. I think I’ve been the real fucked up one this whole time.” I try to smile, but it hurts. My eyes are raw, likely bloodshot, as I restrain emotion.
“Let’s just sit down.” Harriet grasps my hand, carting me toward the lime-green sofa. “The Hello Kitty blanket has your name on it tonight, Cobalt boy.”
I laugh a little, but the sound just dies inside my lungs. I squeeze her hand, then let go as she plops down on the cushions.
Instead of joining her on the sofa, I push aside the guac and chips. Taking a seat on the coffee table.
Her confusion narrows her eyes. She moves to the edge of the couch, our legs knocking together. “Ben?—”
“I can’t stay for a movie.”
She freezes.
“I want to,” I add deeply.
“Animated movies are an hour and thirty minutes tops.”
I feel like I’m being crushed alive. “I have thirty minutes.”
Alarm springs her brows into her blonde bangs. “What are you talking about?”
“I’m leaving New York tonight.”
She slides backward like I pushed her. “No, no. You can’t leave. You said…the holidays? What happened to staying for the holidays?” Her pinpointed gaze drifts around the apartment. She intakes a sharp breath when she spots my canvas duffel in the entryway.
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. “I really thought I was going to stay for Christmas. I was even planning on staying indefinitely, but…”
“But what?” Her eyes grow wider. Not in anger. She’s confused, distressed, worried. “What changed?”
I stare up at the whirling fan. “My sister almost died last night, and it was my fault, Harriet.” I meet her gaze. “I can’t be here.”
“You didn’t give her fentanyl. Those Kappa dickheads did that. Okay, fuck them. They should go rot away in the woods. Not you.”
“I’m not going to rot away. I’m the sun, remember?”
She’s unblinking. “I remember you telling me you aren’t the sun. Do you…do you feel like you’re decaying, Ben?”
“No,” I reach out and clasp her small hand between both of mine. “I’m not suffering from depression. I am very fucking torn up about leaving you right now, but I haven’t been over here masking my sorrow with joy. Every time I laughed with you, thatwas always real. It wasn’t to hide sadness. I was never sad when I was with you, Harriet. You’ve made me so unbelievably happy.” My voice chokes as emotion balls in my throat.
