Misadventure

7

Harry's POV

I had a small backpack of belongings with me from the apartment: socks, underwear, toothbrush, comb, mittens, and a rollerball of Mum's perfume.

It smelled like flowers and honey and the sweetest of memories. When I closed my eyes and held it up under my nose, it was like being transported back in time to being in primary school and running up to hug her but only being the height of her waist. It smelled like bedtime stories, camping trips, car rides, and sunny weekends spent running around the pond with butterfly nets, trying to catch snapping turtles, then falling asleep in her arms on a picnic blanket.

I wouldn't let myself open the perfume's cap too often now, afraid I might use up all the good memories and start associating the fragrance with all the worst parts of being human; death and loss and grief.

There was a knock on the door of my grandparents' guest bedroom, which was where I had been staying for the past week. It was an extensive process to move all of mine and Gemma's belongings into Dad's house. In the meantime I was here. Not that it made much of a difference to me where I was.

It was strange, the way I felt so detached from my body. Everything that was happening to me felt like it was happening to a stranger, like I was hovering above, unable to feel anything, watching all these pivotal, life-altering events unfold, and I was powerless to stop any of it.

Gemma slowly cracked the door, poking her head in. "You okay, H?"

"Louis won't answer me. I think he blocked my number," I said.

A deep frown appeared on Gemma's face as she crossed the wooden floor to sit beside me on the bed. "I doubt that's true. You two have been inseparable all school year. Is it possible his phone is just dead?"

"No, I'm almost certain he blocked me. I don't get it. He texted to check on me a few days ago," I explained, puzzled. "I didn't see it at first, but when I texted him back he wouldn't respond. Then I tried calling him. He didn't answer so I tried again, but the second call wouldn't even go through."

"Wow, what a dick. I'm so sorry, Harry."

"He's not a dick, Gem. He's lovely."

My sister scoffed. "Ignoring your supposed best friend after their mother dies? How lovely."

"You don't even know him. How could you know him?" I asked, feeling suddenly defensive. "It's not like you're ever around."

"Harry, please don't do this right now."

Built up frustration started to boil over inside me. It was first thing I'd felt all week. "Do what? Tell the truth? You must not be too familiar with the concept."

"Enough, okay? You're entitled to your feelings, but you have no right to take it out on me. She was my mum too, you know. I lost her too."

"This isn't about Mum, this is about you and me! You were always there for me, and then one day you just weren't! Every time you promised to stay you would disappear!"

"I couldn't do it anymore, Harry. It was too painful to see her on drugs everyday." She no longer sounded angry, just exhausted. "I'd been taking car of her since we were kids, but I'm almost an adult now. I need to start taking care of myself. I can't pour from an empty cup."

"Nobody took care of me," I mumbled, staring at chip on the painted maroon wall.

I knew that none of this was Gemma's fault. It wasn't her job to look after me. It was our parent's job, but they failed to do so, and despite what reasons they may have had, nothing could change the fact that I was a child who ended up finding his mother's dead body.