Afterlife: Redemption

53

LANE

I was so incredibly anxious, I was past the point of anxious. I was beyond anxious. What was the word to describe the place you reached when anxious no longer accurately described how you felt? I had no idea what it was, but that would be where I was in this particular moment in time.

For the last hour, I sat curled up in the passenger seat of Louis' car, my legs pulled to my chest, my teeth wrecking havoc on my virtually non existent nails. My eyes were trained outwards, watching intently as the high rises and bustle of the city slowly transitioned into the white picket fences and mini vans of suburbia.

Normally, this transition would cause me to feel more calm. Leaving the busy, fast paced world of New York behind, to escape back in to the relaxed, easy stride of my childhood. To return to the home I grew up in, always felt safe in, and found comfort in.

Unfortunately, this was not going to be a friendly, casual visit. And the closer we came to my parents home, the more intent my anxiety became. I was pretty sure my nail beds would be bleeding before we even pulled in the driveway.

Waking late that morning, after staying up a good portion of the night talking, remembering, planning with Harry, we wasted very little time before heading out to my parents. After a quick text to Louis', and several promises of pints and for me to fix him up with one of my friends, his car appeared outside my apartment, and we were on our way.

I had considered calling ahead, giving them a slight warning of our arrival, but quickly thought against it. If anything, announcing my return would only cause Adam to run and hide. And despite my own reservations, Harry was determined and intent on his plan. He wanted to talk to Adam, to face him, and to hopefully use this meeting as a platform to move on. I was admittedly scared that despite his good intentions and efforts to leave the angry, hostile, volatile version of himself behind him, that it would all be for not the moment he laid eyes on the man responsible for the destruction of his world.

But that was not for me to decide. I only had one job in this situation, and that was to stand by Harry. To be the support system he had lacked, and help him find closure. I had no idea if this was the way to do it, but I had no other options. For all the nights I spent trying to find our way, I had made no progress. No answers, no solutions.

So this was going to have to do.

But I couldn't ignore how terrified I was. And I couldn't even say it was just because of Harry. I knew his reaction to seeing Adam again was questionable at best regardless of how surprisingly calm he seemed at the moment, his eyes trained forward, is hand resting on the steering wheel. But it was my own reactions that had me more worried at the moment. Any time I thought of him, of seeing him again, I wanted to punch him. I wanted to scream at him, to curse him to hell, then just as we used to do anytime either of us pissed each other off in any form, run and tell mom and dad.

But I couldn't. I wouldn't. Because no matter how upset or hurt I felt, no matter how much I believed my parents deserved the truth, it wasn't my choice. It was Harry's. Harry was the one to make the decision on where to go from here. If he thought my parents should know after he had a chance to talk to Adam....then that was his choice. If he wanted to turn him in to the police? That was his choice. None of them were appealing to me, and all of the possibilities that floated through my mind left me feeling nauseous on top of the anxiety I felt, but they were not mine to make.

This was about him. And whatever he needed to move forward.

As we pulled into the driveway of my parents home, I felt myself practically vibrating in the seat. I had never been so jittery in my life, and was honestly afraid of what was going to happen when it came time to stand on my wobbly legs.

As he turned off the car, Harrys eyes were focused on the front façade of my childhood home. His face was hard, but not angry. His jaw was tight, but his teeth were not grinding. I couldn't quite decipher his expression, and it did nothing to ease my fear.

After a moment, he looked to me, both of us staring at the other. I had a feeling we were both terrified, neither knowing exactly how this was going to go. We had the best of intentions, but intentions rarely guided outcome.

Without another word, Harry leaned over, pulling me close to him by placing his hand on the back of my neck. He pressed his lips to my own firmly, without hesitation, causing a flutter in my already nervous stomach. When he released me, he said nothing. Merely turned away, opening the door, and climbing out of the car.

Quickly, I scurried after him, suddenly afraid that he was about to rush into the house and beat Adam down. That his kiss was somehow a kiss of 'I'm sorry', and that everything was about to go right down the toilet.

Moving around to the front of the car, I met up with Harry before he had gotten any further, reaching out and taking his hand. I knew I had no chance of holding him back if he chose to surge forward, but the contact helped calm me.

Reaching the door, I knocked quickly, feeling the increasing tension radiate off Harry the longer we waited. I knew he was anxious to get this over with, and could only hope that the tension I felt was that, rather than his anger.

The door opened, revealing my father, standing tall and dominating, his eyes regarding us with surprise. Glancing down, I noticed he had on his old, grass stained trainers. They were the ones he always wore while working in the yard. Chances were good he was trimming the bloody hedges, which meant things had no improved around the Jennings household.

"Well, hello you two," he smiled, stepping back to allow us entry. Reaching for me, he pulled me into a hug. "What are you doing here?"

"Just popped in," I lied. "Where is mom?"

"At the store," he replied, reaching out a hand to Harry. "Just left a bit ago."

I tried to seem impassive, but I felt myself relax at this knowledge. If anyone was going to act as a barrier between us and Adam at the moment, it would be my mother. She was already worked up after our confrontation last week. I could only imagine what she would do if she found us on the other side of the door yet again unannounced. At least my father was more calm, more subdued. Granted, when riled, he was more likely to throw us out, but in general he was the calmer of the two.

"Where is Adam?" I asked, trying to sound casual. The look Harry gave me made it clear I had failed.

"His room," my father replied, the tone of his voice giving away his own distaste. "Same place he always is."

We stood in a momentary, awkward silence, before finally Harry spoke up.

"I'm just going to go say hello," he said, pointing to the stairs.

I fully expected my father to stop him, to hold out his arm and block his path, or forbid him to search Adam out. But of course, I should have known better, as he simply muttered 'have fun talking to his door' before turning to me. I had forgotten how much more lackadaisical my father was compared to my mother. Nothing really riled him, whereas my mother so was easily worked up.

I caught Harrys eye for a moment, and in that split second I tried to convey to him that I was here. That I was just downstairs, and would be there until he was ready to come back down. If he needed anything, I was here.

Granted, my expression probably looked more constipated than assuring, but there was only so much you would convey in a look.

Taking my fathers arm, I turned him towards the kitchen, launching into a series of questions about my trip to Cambodia. I had no idea what else to discuss at the moment, since my attention was so intently focused on the man slowly ascending the staircase.

The last thing I saw before disappearing in to the kitchen with my father was Harrys profile, his eyes trained upwards towards the top of the stairs, his hand on the railing as he made his way up.