Cherry Bomb |H.S|

Chapter 18.

— Utica, New York. 1973 —

MARY JANE MILLER

I think I figured out what love is.

I've been on this earth twenty four years and somehow I've only realised now what love is, or what I think it is at least.

I'm not too sure, but something tells me it has been right in front of me this whole time; dressed in sparkly suits and sporting green emerald eyes.

All my life i have never once thought about love. I've never truly felt it either, not y my Mom and definitely not by my Dad, it's something so foreign to me that I'm not sure when exactly I started to feel it. Harry has shown me many new places and taught me new things and one of those things include love, but I doubt he feels that back; no one has ever loved me.

Coming on this tour was only the result of us getting to the bottom of whatever was happening with Harry and the murders, but now my view has been changed; I'm looking down from a ferris wheel and all I can see is Harry; kind, caring and oh so amazing Harry.

He has changed all of our perspectives on life, he has taught us that no matter what you love who you love and you have fun doing so. He is the kind of role model you want in this world, the kind of person you want your kids to look up to in twenty years and just be who they are because he has shown that so many times — and he will never stop.

He is who he is.

He's Harry.

My Harry.

"I don't have much money, but boy if I did
I'd buy a big house where we both could live"

His voice is so lovely, so calming and so sweet to listen to, he sings like he's telling a story and it's something I'll never forget or even want to forget, he's just a treasure hidden amongst the dirt that I somehow got the shovel and got to dig up to see who he truly is — he's beautiful inside and out.

He smiles as he sings, the two of us hidden away in his shaggin wagon that was driven down here by some of the crew — he asked for it back from their first ever show and he got it. He said it's a special place for us both.

Maybe he knows what love is, and that's his way of love.

I'm not sure.

"I know it's not much, but it's the best I can do
My gift is my song, and this one's for you"

I recently told him one of my favourite songs was Your Song by Elton John, and here he is, guitar in hand and his beautiful voice singing the song that I adore so dearly.

I think I adore it even more now because it's his voice singing it, it seems more intimate and special than it ever has. It feels like he's meaning what he's singing by the small smiles on his face as I sway in front of him cross legged humming along with him as he strums the cords.

"Why is this song your favourite, sweets?" He asks as I look up, my eyes filled with tears as he smiles, smoking some of the joint that rests in the ashtray between us on the blankets.

"Along with La Vie En Rose, My Mom used to sing this to me, before she would leave like she usually did" I say forcing a laugh as I take the joint from Harry who's passing it to me.