A Kingdom of Our Own

Chapter Thirty Five - A Christmas Parting

Harry found Dalton sitting in his bedroom, out of breath, his t-shirt sticky with sweat. He was staring remorsefully at a photo of himself in full baseball kit, knelt on one knee beside his father, which had been taken two summers before when his Little League team had won the playoffs. It had been one of the happiest days of his life, not necessarily because for the first time in his life he had won something of significance, but because his father had been so proud of him. Meanwhile, with his free hand, he clutched on tightly to the gleaming silver dog tag that he kept on a cord around his neck at all times, as if he were worried it would disappear should he ever let it go. It was only seven o’clock in the morning and it was still dark outside given that the Winter Solstice had only recently passed, but Harry was able to make out this much as he advanced through the doorway.

Hesitantly, he moved across the creaky floor towards Dalton, until eventually he reached his side and took a seat next to him on the bed. Still there remained a deathly silence in the dark space. In fact, Dalton was completely out of it and refused to even simply look up to acknowledge the presence of his friend. Harry bit his lip at this. He had never been the best of people to deal with delicate situations (as unlike Dalton he wasn’t a very tender soul), so it took him a little bit of time and courage to break the quiet.

“Skandar told me what happened,” Harry croaked all of a sudden, edging a little closer towards Dalton’s side and taking a glimpse at the photo he held as he did so. He too had been on that baseball team, the starting pitcher in fact and so couldn’t help but feel a little bit of nostalgia as memories of the decisive match came flooding back to him. Still, Dalton didn’t reply or bother turning to face Harry. He just sat there with a distant expression on his face; shoulders slumped, rubbing his grubby fingertips over the indented letters on the dog tag. Harry was hardly surprised by the state that his friend was in given the events that Skandar had informed him of, but he was still eager to get him to talk and open up on his feelings. Giving up on difficult situations, even when the case seemed hopeless, wasn’t his style.

“You shouldn’t beat yourself up about what happened, Dalton,” Harry said softly. “We’re finally safe. Everything’s going to start getting better for us now, I promise.”

“I don’t think things will ever be ok. How can they be after all that’s happened?” Dalton mumbled weakly in response, still avoiding eye contact as a single tear welled in one of his dark eyes and dropped down onto the glossy surface of the photo. Oh, where had all the happiness and innocence gone in the eyes of the boy Harry had grown so close to? It is simply cruel for a soul to be robbed of such valuable assets.

“I didn’t say you would be ok, you’re stuck with me for Christ sake!” Harry exclaimed with a dry laugh, before continuing to press – “But anything’s possible at the end of the day, right? I mean, six months ago, would you have ever imagined me looking like this in all these fancy clothes?”

It was only on being asked this question that Dalton finally looked up and made eye contact with his friend, unsure as to what he meant by what he’d just said. That’s when he noticed that Harry was dressed in his very best attire for Christmas Day. A dark three-piece suit, white shirt, blue-and-green silk tie, hair combed perfectly, shoes shining to a glow. Even after all the bad things that had happened and the great sadness he felt, he couldn’t help but burst out laughing at the sight. Harry always made him laugh. In fact, that was what he liked most about him - how he could make him feel good and upbeat when times were at their worst.

“Wow, you look stylish for once… Why are you dressed like that anyway?” Dalton asked, with the initial humour of the sight soon wearing off and turning to one of wonder on why exactly he had made such a great effort. In the past, for as long as he’d known him in fact, he’d always been the sort of person who threw on the first thing he came to in the wardrobe and none of his clothes had ever been as smart or expensive as these were.