In Session [h.s]

Chapter Forty Four

"This is bullshit!"

"Read it and weep, Elora. Straight to jail, do not pass go and do not collect £200!"

"I literally hate this game," Ellie huffs, slamming her tiny silver cat monopoly piece in the square marked 'Jail'.

There'd been no debate over who got what piece. Ellie was the Cat - because she was a witch, duh. Lena was the Boot, Esther the Race Car and for whatever reason, Harry was the little Dog. Seb didn't join in, but he enjoyed running the little silver ship along the grooves of the table. They each chose their little avatars as if it was a predetermined agreement - which it was. Apparently the members of Harry's family never once changed their chosen marker in their history of game nights.

They'd all taken great joy in debating which piece I should take. According to Ellie, I gave off serious Top Hat energy (I wasn't sure whether to be insulted or not). Lena argued that if anything, I was definitely the Wheelbarrow. Esther had simply suggested I chose for myself.

It was Harry - who until that point hadn't said a word to me - that placed the thimble on the table in front of me.

"Ruth's the thimble." He said, his voice quiet, his eyes focused on the money he shared out between the players.

Ellie, Lena and Esther had all watched the interaction quietly for a moment, tension thick enough to slide, waiting for what I'd do or say.

So, to keep the peace, I took the thimble. I stole a glance at Harry, but he was still dealing out colourful scraps of paper money, his jaw set.

Earlier in the evening, when he'd opened the door at the same time I'd been attempting to flee Esther's house, it felt like I'd been drenched with a bucket of ice water. I'd frozen, each limb locked in place and my lungs having suffered the same fate.

"What are you doing here?" Harry, in his thick coat and woolly hate, had asked. He'd sounded almost as breathless as I'd felt, still standing on the step just beyond the door. His eyes scanned my face, his face dropping into a frown and then he asked, "What happened?"

Like with one look, he knew. Knew that I was hurting. That the words my mother had hissed at me that afternoon were still slicing fresh wounds whilst simultaneously opening up old ones.

A mistake.

The words throbbed like a blister at the forefront of my mind. That's all I'd ever been to my mother. She'd never love me the way I'd needed her to. She'd never teach me to cook, or read me books or eat a meal around an old beat up table scared with memories. She'd never even hugged me.

She didn't want me, and never had.

I think in my sadness, my moment of utter weakness, I'd been so very desperate for that love that I'd driven to the only place I'd ever witnessed it; Harry's mothers house.

It was a selfish decision to come here. To follow Lena in. This was Harry's family. Harry's reprieve. I couldn't insert myself into it, not when the two of us were like this; unable to look at each other, unable to breathe the same air without hurting each other.

I'd been on the cusp of apologising to him, my feet readying to squeeze through the gap at his side and hurry to my car, when Lena appeared at my side.

"She's staying for game night. And seeing as your here, you can be the banker." Her hand had rested on my shoulder as she spoke, something that didn't slip by Harry.

She'd held his gaze firmly, and it was as if they were having a silent conversation between the looks they exchanged. Before Harry simply dipped his chin, and said "Okay."