Dealing With Absence » h. styles au

10ᵀᴴ CHAPTER

                                                   10ᵀᴴ CHAPTER   

     “Things we lose have a way of coming back to us in the end, if not always in the way we expect”

The thing is really, ridiculously simple: Harry has no skills whatsoever with washing cars.

At all. Honestly.

And, like, wasn’t it supposed to be something to be checked upon when he signed up for this? He sort of pities Ed (“don’t go all formal calling me Edwin. Ed is just fine”) in more ways than not. Because, of course the old man quite literally saved his life by giving him this opportunity, and Harry is infinitely thankful for it, but he also believes the man is far too good, and deserves better for his business.

And it’s not like Harry is useless, either. Not completely, anyway. But there are quite a few tricky techniques he has yet to learn, and many of them include a fast job, so he’s working on it. (And by working on it he means watching Luke doing his job flawlessly through the glass, also standing behind the counter and being as sympathetic as he can towards people who walk into the convenience shop. Which, Harry admits, is a greater number than he expected. Not many. Just more.)

The good thing about being a bit useless at his job, though (or at least at the part that matters, whilst supposedly working at a carwash but ending as a cashier instead) is the fact that despite the heat outside, the store is considerably cool. It might have to do with the fan just above his head, but most likely it’s about the conditioners installed, which makes it all easier, unlike the café just across the road.

And, okay. Harry can adapt to making this his daily routine. It’s by no means near what his life was before rehab; with all the regular car drives around the country, carrying only a camera, his journal and his Ipod with several playlists, one for each specific occasion, connected to the radio in his car, blasting the sound wherever the drove by. It’s nothing like the sunsets he got to witness and photograph from the top of some mountain; like the colours he got to transmit from his eyes to a canvas, from a momentary scene to an eternal representation of it.

An eternal representation he has no clue where can it be now, but it’s somewhere. He supposes.

So, all in all, everything he’s going through now is nothing like the amazing experiences he’s had in the past, but if he’s considering a new life, started from the moment he woke up at the hospital, with a second chance, then this is the best that’s happened ever since.

This morning at the café, talking to Elisha was a relief, sort of. Not because he talked about his past and let all his disappointments flow (if he’s honest, he tries to quell those as much as possible), but because the conversation was natural, and just as casual as it could be. And it was the first time in a while that someone looked at him without pity and concern. It made him feel like he could breathe without being judged by it; without someone worrying about his lungs due to his constant smoking (it’d really become a habit of his since around 21, interrupted from 24 to 27 thanks to the clinic, but now that he’s out he doesn’t consider completely stopping. He still itches whenever he spots a pack of cigarettes). (He will have to look at those every day from now on, at the small showcase behind him, so).

He really likes it here; the fact that he’s starting over amongst unknown people. Unknown places. And he’s quite fond of his new dorm, already. It’s small but he managed to make it accommodate a stove (he got with an old friend he used to hang out with, the worst part being having to face all the questions about how he’s been lately) and a small fridge, which is more than enough for his morning tea and night snacks.