Coffee and Spice | Harvey | Stardew Valley

-20-

When consciousness finally pries me from the jaws of troubled dreams, the usual autumn morning sounds of birds and wind-scattered leaves are muffled by the soft hiss of rain.

I'm in Harvey's bed, tucked beneath a blanket. I had deliberately chosen to sleep on one of the couches not just out of consideration, but also applying the logic that Harvey was likely too tall to stretch out fully on the couch. He'd evidently moved me to his bed at some point during the night, though I don't recall this happening. There's no sign of him in the room, so I assume he's still downstairs and that he probably didn't sleep much, if at all.

The light filtering in from his small bedroom window is diffused by streaks of dark clouds, offering no reference of time. A watch laid out on Harvey's desk informs me that it's just after 8am.

After a quick trip to the bathroom to check my appearance (my hair is hopelessly tangled, though I do try to rectify it with my fingers to no avail) and to brush my teeth with one of the million toothbrushes stashed beneath the sink, I poke around in the ostentatiously large kitchen for a mug and ingredients to make coffee. I'm sure Harvey would appreciate some caffeine after such a long night. Though I don't make coffee at home for myself, my varied job history in college included a stint as a hotel clerk, where I was required to maintain a steady supply of coffee for guests. I'm happy to have a reason to put those skills to use once more. 

Ten minutes later, I'm carefully maneuvering down the stairs holding the largest mug I could find filled to the brim with fresh coffee. When I round the corner of the examination room I had visited last night, the bed is empty save for a pillow and a crumpled sheet. The machine that had been attached to Shane was now huddled in a corner, its screen devoid of life. A tall rolling cart, its bare surface shining, partially covers the ajar window, as if it wants to shield anyone outside from peering in and viewing the aftermath of such a depressing scene.

"Marnie came to pick Shane up about half an hour ago," Harvey says from behind me.

He's leaning against the door frame with his arms crossed casually over his chest, hair disheveled and tie loosened. The sleeves of his wrinkled shirt are rolled up carelessly to just above his elbows. Shadows darken his under eyes and stubble dusts his chin and the sides of his jaw, so at odds with the gentleness in his eyes.

With reference to his usual inexhaustibly structured and groomed appearance, he looks like the very essence of sin standing there. The dichotomy of the more proper Harvey I was familiar with and this Harvey with his irreverence towards orderliness renders me speechless. My thoughts collide together, abandoning their routine pathways like cars running haywire off a road.

Finally, I cobble together the words to ask, "How is he doing?"

"It was a rough night, but he was much better this morning. His vital signs were stable, and I prescribed him some medicine for the nausea. There's a counselor in the city that I met through an old colleague of mine that I think can help him. I gave him her information before he left. He seemed to be open to the idea of setting up a consultation appointment. Everything would be done over the phone instead of in person, which I imagine would be easier for him." Harvey relays all of this without moving, but now he shrugs away from the door and joins me inside the room. "I wanted to wake you so you could see him, but I thought that it would be best if you got as much sleep as you could after everything that happened last night."

"I'm so glad he's okay. I really hope he makes that appointment soon, at least then he can know his options. And you need rest, too, Harvey. You must be exhausted from staying up all night," I say sympathetically. At these words, I remember the weight of the drink in my hands. "Oh, speaking of that, this is for you!"