Desirous [H.S.]

Fourteen

TW: domestic violence

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ANASTASIA HALL

OCTOBER 4, 2020

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I sit on the cold, metal barstool at the granite island in my mom's kitchen, swirling my fingertip around the rim of the wine glass in front of me. I can hear the T.V. playing whatever show Johnathan is watching in the living room, while my mom putters around the kitchen, cooking dinner for the three of us.

The aroma of the blood-red wine sends my mind back to the kiss, remembering the way I could smell the nineteen-eighty-two rouge on Harry's breath, and taste it on his tongue. My heart flutters just thinking about it, and that terrifies me.

"Honey?" My mom pulls me out of my daze, and my head snaps up to meet her hazel eyes. "What's going on?"

I know she's been able to tell all afternoon that something is up, I can see it in the way she looks at me, and I've been praying she wouldn't ask.

She always asks, stupid.

I breathe in deeply through my nose, before letting out a big sigh, and resting my forehead on my arm that's laying on the counter. "Mom, I fucked up," I whisper, the corners of my eyes pricking with tears.

"What happened?" She asks softly.

I hear her careful footsteps move around the island until she's standing next to me. A moment later, I feel her hand begin to rub my back gently. The gesture causes the tears in my eyes to swell, and a choked sob escapes from my throat.

I lift my head to look at her, my bottom lip trembling.

"Can we go outside?" I swallow, my eyes flicking towards the living room.

She furrows her brows, and nods before making her way towards the sliding glass doors leading to the backyard. I sniff, and slide off my seat, grabbing my glass of wine before I follow her outside. I shut the door behind me, and take a seat next to her on the red-cushioned wicker couch that's sat on the patio.

I try to avoid her gaze, keeping my eyes focused solely on the glass in my hands, before I feel her shift beside me. I turn my head to see that she's rotated her body to face me, her right leg tucked up to her chest. My eyes flick back and forth between hers as my heart races.

I never told my mom about my kiss with Harry all those years ago, but she knew something had happened. After I'd left him sitting outside by himself, I locked myself in the bathroom and cried until I felt like I had no more tears left in me. I was so overwhelmed by the rush of jumbled emotions, that I just couldn't stop myself. By the time I had worked up the courage to go back to the roof, he had already left.

Eventually, my mom told me that he was crying when he came downstairs. When she asked him what happened, he only looked at her before shaking his head and walking out the front door. She didn't even bother asking me the same question. She just looked at me like she knew, and pulled me into a hug, which triggered the tears all over again.

A week later, Harry left for Brown, and she asked me how he was doing. I hadn't really spoken to him since the night of graduation, aside from saying goodbye to him the day he moved, so I told her I didn't know. All she did was sigh and say, "He loves you, you know."

At the time I thought, of course he loves me, we're best friends. Now, I'm not so sure that's what she meant.

"Do you remember how I told you I was working with Harry?" I say, my voice shaking with anxiety.