"Truly, I'd do anything for him. If he really wanted me to, I'd do anything for him. If he asked me to walk away from the chance of a lifetime, I would...I'd probably even be happy about it." Fifteen years prior, Elizabeth waltzed into Harry's life...
I watch the green go by, just as I used to watch the towering buildings go by. Only I'm not in a cab or a town car, and I'm certainly not in New York City. I'm so tired, but there's so much to see. It's a new world, and I want to take it all in. Mum hums like a beautiful songbird in the driver's seat as she navigates the country roads like an expert. Even being six, I'm too young to understand that she is an expert. This was her home, where she grew up, rebelled...and then finally left. But now, she's back—we're back. New York is deep in our rearview, as is my father, my home, my friends and my life. As if she can read my mind, mum smiles her breathtaking smile at me. "We're going to have a good life here, baby. I promise..."
"What if I don't make friends, mum?"
"Oh, Bunny...you will. My oldest friend, Anne, she has a son who's a little older than you. I think the two of you will get on so well." I nod and she goes back to humming. There is so much green. It's like Central Park but much vaster. A couple of minutes later, we're pulling up to a little cottage, that the flowers have seemingly overtaken.
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It looks like something out of a fairytale, and nothing like our townhouse in Greenwich Village. There's an old coupe in the driveway and as mum parks the car, a pretty woman steps out and begins waving frantically. When she gets out, they hug like it's been ages, and I suppose it has been. At one point they're both crying, the boy and I standing awkwardly by. The pretty brunette stops hugging mum and then she's bending down, gathering me up in a warm embrace.
"Oh, darling...I'm so happy to finally meet you—goodness, you look just like your mum! Oh, Ruthie, she's the spitting image of you when you were her age!" I like Anne. She's kind, she reminds me of mum. "Elizabeth, darling, this is my son Harry. He's eight...Harry, love, say hello to Elizabeth." He steps forward and holds his hand out.
"Hi, I'm Harry." I take it gingerly. He looks nothing like the boys I went to private school with. His hair is not slicked perfectly back, his outfit is disheveled with no sign of a blazer, child chinos or shiny loafers...in fact, he looks quite messy. Probably like an eight year old should look. His curls are like mine but brown and he has a space between his front teeth. "I don't have a lot of friends, so you can be my friend, if you want?" I smile and nod.
"I don't have any friends here." His smile is goofy. I like it. "I'll be your friend."
"Do you want to go play pirates with me?" I look to mum and she gives me a wink, her signature go for it, have the time of your life, baby. Harry and I run off, ducking in and out of the flowerbeds, playing with pretend swords...swashbuckling around the yard like we're sailing the Spanish Main. I feel such safety in this boy's company, and I only just met him. I can't explain that, but the idea of having a friend in this dorky eight year old...the thought that he might just be a friend for a long time...I find comfort in that, and I hope that I'm not wrong.
