The Mathematician (Book 1)

14. Whiplash

We walked for a long time. His backyard was indeed big, bigger than I originally thought, because at one point we made it towards a pavilion I hadn't seen before. It was tucked neatly away behind a few trees and right near a lake I also hadn't noticed before now. Then again, I had mostly turned my attention towards his swimming pool. 

The pavilion offered a seating option, and so taking a seat, we both sat down and enjoyed the bottle of red wine he had procured from his basement. The thick blanket turned out to be for me as nighttime slowly settled over us and chilled the air to a degree that was less warm than my clothing. It was a warm evening, but not that warm.

Having uncorked the bottle from home, Harry poured me a glass of red and then one for himself as well before leaning back and watching the slowly darkening night sky with me. Summer meant later nights with more sun, but the sunset was beautiful nonetheless as we watched it set through the trees around the pavilion.

Keeping the warm blanket wrapped around me, I sipped my glass slowly and let the heady wine tickle my tastebuds before swallowing it. I had no clue about years and good grapes, but something told me this was a good and expensive wine. Hopefully with a nice alcohol percentage, too.

"Tell me why you decided to study medicine," Harry then voiced. I blew out a breath, because I knew from the start that some subjects would be unavoidable tonight, after earlier today.

"I guess... because of my mom," I replied, sipping my wine again. "I grew up with one parent who wasn't always quite there, mentally, and it just... I guess I just wanted to make it easier on the next kid who got a mom like that."

"And your father?"

"If you have his number, I'd love to see where my intelligence came from," I chuckled weakly at my own lame joke. Truth was, it was still a sensitive topic.

Harry didn't smile at my joke, understandably, but merely sipped his own wine instead. "So you decided to study medicine because you want to help others not go through what you did."

"It's a bit cliché, I know."

"It's very admirable, but I question if that's what you truly want."

"What do you mean?"

Harry watched his wine for a moment before speaking. "Your mother spoke something about not wanting you to forget who you are. I want to know who you think you are, Cassandra."

His words astounded me for a moment. Then, taking a big gulp of my wine, I let out a long breath. Complicated questions. "I... I mean... does anyone know who they really are? I'm just... you know..." What was I? Parental problems aside, what was I? Struggling? A bitch? Lost?

"I think you're still trying to figure out who you are," Harry volunteered for me. I silently looked over at him. He was still watching his wine, swirling it around in his glass. "You're a young woman, Cassandra. Nobody should have their life together at your age, but I see how you carry yourself in this world. You're brave, but you're also afraid," He turned his eyes towards mine, and it was then I realized I had forgotten to breathe. "Tell me if I'm wrong."

I exhaled when I had been holding my breath. Then, lowering my gaze, I licked my lips.

"You're not wrong," I whispered, silently.

Harry nodded slowly. I was afraid. Not of life, but of the people I let into it. Perhaps of the people who were already in it... or the people missing in it. It all felt so wrong.

Every person I knew felt like they had been given the wrong title in my life. My mother was more of friend to me than a parent... my dad was more of a donor or a ghost than a father... and my friends were as non-existent as the relationships I had with boys. And Harry... well. I wasn't even going to start that one.