Immaculate

Chapter 9 - Immaculate

The conversation flowed until Doris asked if they wanted soup. Yes, they did. And it was steaming, in an enormous china tureen set on a nearby table, where charming little bowls were piled. Everyone helped themselves and went to eat on the couch. "Nothing British, but it must be the tradition of the house," Debbra thought. The soup was fantastic.

Harry and Mitch were still inspired and were playing and singing some snippets of hits from the 1970s, 1980s, which Debbra, by the way, loved. Harry only stopped ringing for a minute or two, because some messages started coming in on his cell phone. The first he glanced at, without touching the device. The second made him stand up. He went to the window, read it, apparently responded, and returned to resume his singing.

The night rolled on happily and unpretentious. Around 10 pm, little by little the others said goodbye, until it was just her, Harry, Mitch and Sarah, who, however, was dozing in a nearby armchair. Mitch noticed and called her to bed.

Debbra and Harry still didn't feel sleepy. He kept playing the guitar and humming softly, as if he were testing out new compositions that no one had yet heard. Debbra ventured to ask him to sing and play something just for her. He made a mention of agreeing, and waited for her to ask which song she wanted. "If a Could Fly? Could it be?", she tried. He made a slightly surprised face, it was one of the oldest ones he had helped to compose, still from the boyband days. And immediately began to play and sing it. "If I could fly...I'd be comin' right back home to you...I think I might...Give up everything...just ask me to"...

Harry played and sang slowly, carefree , but, feeling the music, which, by the way, he liked. He took the delicate notes out of the guitar with ease, closing his eyes, or looking at Debbra, or the fretboard, as he sang. Every now and then he would smile. To then again express the intensity of the song. The flames from the huge fireplace reflected both in his eyes and in the guitar's shiny surface. He looked like a painting, a masterpiece, actually.

Debbra wished she had powers to stop time and stay in that scene forever. The turn that part of her life had taken in less than a week was unbelievable. As for Harry, no one in the world could even assume that from an unattainable mega-star to her, he would become...an 'affair', a 'boyfriend'? Someone approachable, intimate, easy going, sweet, having fun on a rural weekend at middle-aged friends' houses, playing guitar and goofing off in front of a roaring fire. Singing and playing for her, now, just for her.

Her heart was beating fast, she fought not to cry, but she let, again, a stubborn tear flow. Harry smiled, tenderly, but didn't stop the song. The chorus was particularly touching for the moment, although Debbra hadn't really thought about it when choosing the song: "For your eyes only...I'll show you my heart...For when you're lonely...And forget who you are...I'm missing half of me...When we're apart...Now you know me...For your eyes only...". Harry did this part very slowly, staring at Debbra. Her tears now flowed freely. The wine, the enchanting night, Harry's unique, penetrating and slightly husky voice, and his bright and intense gaze, straight into her eyes, those lyrics... it was too much.

Three feelings conflicted in his chest at that moment. The first, a deep enchantment for him, obviously. Even the planktons of the Earth's oceans had always known that of the five boys in the boyband, Harry was by far the most charismatic, the most transparent, the most intense, the sweetest. So she knew who she was dealing with.

The second feeling was one of gratitude to the Universe, for, even if in the course of a horrible story, she ended up right there, on that sofa, in that beautiful room, in front of that giant fireplace, with such kind people, and watching Harry Styles do a private serenade for her. That was a privilege she would never be able to describe, until the last of her days. The third feeling was one of disbelief.