give her love » james potter

47

"Come on, Uncle Winston," James says, taking another bite of the food. "Just admit it."

James receives an eye roll, "I'll have you know, my father was actually a sailor. I've spent nearly half my life in the ocean."

"What did your mother do?"

"Seamstress," he answers, then looks over at Aunt Sal. "Remember when she made your wedding dress?"

"Our mothers hated each other and the wedding dress incident caused the largest fight of the decade," she turns to us, shaking her head. 

They both smile at the memory nonetheless and I wonder how it's possible to love someone as much as they do. Aunt Sally grows tired of things so easily, she redoes the house every two years, her wardrobe every few months, and any other thing every few weeks. But, then there's Uncle Winston who she still looks as if she hasn't gotten enough of.

James has been arguing that the humongous fish was store-bought and not actually caught. The size of it is alarmingly big but he hasn't realized the lengths Uncle Winston goes when it comes to fishing. He gets up at 4 am to buy the best bate the proceeds to row far away in a certain place where he swears the fish never suspect anything, then manages to spend a few hours sitting and waiting while Springsteen plays on his walkman.

(You know what he told me last night? That sometimes he has these imaginary conversations with my dad because he misses his best friend and sometimes while on the boat, it's so easy to pretend he's there. That it's normal. That it's okay again. But it isn't and he feels the fish pity him and just jumps on the hook hoping the mad man will go away.)

We're spending the first weekend of summer at the beach house. 

Uncle Winston hired up a bunch of interns at the law firm and Aunt Sally's decided against summer tutoring this year, free time fills them up like nothing else. The talks of selling the old beach house have been forgotten and instead welcomed a new guest that everybody adores.

It's separate rooms across the house for James and I, and a strict curfew of midnight with an agreement we do the dishes at night if we want even a sip of alcohol. But, we don't mind and for James, he almost has a heart attack when I sneak into his room and is constantly worrying until, well, he isn't anymore.

We're cleaning up the table alone as tonight it's been decided our authority figures are tired and desperately want to be in bed by nine like usual. Dolly plays in the background and I hum along to the familiar song.

Then, there's a tap on my shoulder.

James has extended his hand towards me in a ridiculous way and I smile. "May I have this dance," he asks, in his most serious way though I know a laugh is dying to escape him. 

"Why," I say, putting my arms around his shoulders. "I thought you'd never ask."

With that his arms are around my waist pulling me closer as we slow dance to Dolly singing about Porter and reminding us she deserves so much better.

"Bittersweet memories, that's all I'm taking with me," I sing along, resting my head on his chest.  There's a comfort in knowing his heart's steady. "Goodbye, please don't cry."

He doesn't know the words, doesn't really know Dolly in general. But, he tries to hum along because he knows I love the song. It's the idea that you'd do anything for the one you love and I wonder if this is how Uncle Winston and Aunt Sally must feel all the time.

A patronus arrives at our window before I can even fathom how to put all my feelings into words and hope he might understand what my soul's feeling. It's Dorcas's little rabbit and it's only the third time I've seen it but, I'm already sick of it.