Unexpected

24. Helen

I don't know what's going on, I have no idea. The others talk, laugh, but the rest mingles around me every time he and I look at each other.

I need to talk to him.

I get up and adjust my dress which had risen a little; as I do it I can feel his attention all over me. He is looking at me, so with a nod of the head I tell him to follow me and he understands me. He gets up and follows me in the middle of the crowd.

"What have you done to your hands?" I ask, raising my voice on the music.

I don't think he heard me. He takes my hand and pulls me out. "Is the discussion long?" I nod and then he goes to his car. "Get in."

We both get in and remain silent until he clears his throat.

I take a deep breath to calm down and then repeat the question from before.

He looks at me, quietly, then he looks at the bandages on his bloody knuckles. "I got hurt, can't you see?" This is not an answer.

"Yeah, thanks, I see it," I say with a sigh. "But why, what did you do?"

He closes his eyes and replies with, "I threw a punch at the window." That's all he says.

"Okay... but why?" I keep pushing.

He snorts. "Fuck, Helen, what do you care?" He starts taking off his bandages and I see all the scratches, cuts.

"Oh my God. Harry, I care." I pause to reflect on why I actually care.

"Why?" he asks me turning and looks me intently in the eye.

I look away for a moment, then resume supporting his gaze. "Because."

He chuckles. "It's not an explanation."

I hate him, I hate him so much. "I don't even know why, but I just want to know if it's my fault."

He looks down and looks at his hands. He shakes his head. "No, in part. I had a fit of anger," he sighs, dejected.

In part? "Who was it that made you angry?"

He squeezes the steering wheel hard and the wounds on his hands reopen, slowly the blood starts to flow again. "My beloved fucking father."

His father? "What did he do?" I take his hands and tell him to stop tightening the steering wheel so hard.

"He told me things that... make me hate myself even though I know that none of what has happened is my fault."

I knew, there is something underlying that disturbs him. "What happened?" I ask him, in a low tone of voice, I'm afraid that such a personal question could make him run away again.

He releases a breath that he has probably been holding for a while. "Helen, hardly anyone knows, and you are the last person I want to know."

"Why? If there is something that—"

He puts a bloody hand on mine, I don't pull it back. "I don't want to let off steam with you..." he hesitates "about that."

He shakes his head. "No, Harry, you can let off steam as much as you want. I could help you, perhaps?"

He holds both of my hands and looks at them. My neat and small hands in his big and full of wounds... are two opposites. "You can't go back and improve the past."

I look into his eyes and his gaze is full of sadness. "Vent it out, tell me everything, it might be good for you."

He releases my hands and bandages his again. He is trying to waste time. "Are you sure you want to know?"

I nod immediately. "Yes."

He closes his eyes, rests his head on the headrest and starts talking. "Today — like every Saturday — I went to see my father... in prison. Do you want to know why he is in prison?"

I swallow. I had no idea of ​​all this. "Only if you want to tell me."

He takes a deep breath and releases it. "He told me that I could never be the ideal man for someone, that no one can ever love me, accept me as I am. My mother loved him at first. Then I arrived, and all his attention was devoted to me." He pauses to catch his breath. "My father constantly complained that she didn't give him time because of me, but the problem is that he was violent, Helen, in everything he did."

I feel my eyes fill with tears. "Harry, I'm so sorry, really."

He sighs. "Don't cry," he tells me, looking at me. Then he continues, "In the morning my mother called me to go to school and on her wrists I saw purple finger marks, her face tired and lifeless. In addition to being violent, he became more and more strict over time, especially with my mother. She couldn't see even a friend, because she had to stay with him."

Oh my God, that's awful.

"He has always had fits of anger, but they had gotten worse. That day when my mother got so mad and yelled at him, he completely lost control." He stops for a moment, runs a finger under his eyes to stop the tears.

"What did he do?" I ask, my face is streaked with tears.

In a shaky voice, he says, "He took a knife from the kitchen drawer and pointed it at my mother's throat."

I have a start. "My God..." I can't believe it.

His hands are shaking, so I take them in mine, not caring about the blood. I have the impression that he has never told anyone anything.

"Luckily he was too drunk to even look after me, so I called the police immediately. They were around and they came right away, and they arrested him. If they hadn't arrived earlier, Helen..."

"It would've ended badly..."

At this point, Harry can no longer restrain himself and bursts into tears. "Sometimes I'm afraid of being like him, look at my hands!"

I shake my head and take his face in my hands. "No no no, you are not."

"How can you say it?"

I signal him to come closer to me, I hold him in my arms; he rests his head on my chest. "I just know, you're not a bad person."

He looks up and wipes his tears with his wrists. "Come here." He moves his seat back to make room and gestures for me to sit on him.

My dress is tight on the legs, so I try to do what I can to prevent it from stretching. I manage to sit astride him in all heels, but the dress has risen a little on my thighs. I put my hair behind my ears, I don't know why but I feel shy right now.

His gaze alternates between my eyes and my lips. He puts his hand on my cheek and gently strokes it with his thumb. "I hate these tears."

"I'm so sorry for what happened to you."

"This is the first time I've told anyone, no one knows," I confess.

As I imagined.

"I'm glad you managed to talk about it," and I smile at him.

"Only because it's you. Now kiss me, there's nothing more beautiful."