PRECIPICE [h.s.]

Chapter Forty Two

☼☼☼

Halfway out the door, but it won't close

I'm holdin' out hope for you to

Say, "Don't go"

I would stay forever if you say, "Don't go"

☼☼☼

August 13th 1997

Jaime's P.O.V.

The weekend we spent celebrating Harry's birthday was magnificent. We barely slept, and what little time we spent out of the room we had so much fun. Watching Harry bounce up and down the boardwalk lit me up from the inside out. It felt like all those magical nights you spend on the boardwalk as a kid, running away from your parents, hyped up on sugar, trying to take in everything you can.

We've been glued to each other all summer and the few days away from everyone did nothing but make it worse. We're practically living together. The other day he did laundry at my place. I was doing my own laundry and he mentioned that he hadn't done his. All. Summer. There were mountains of clothes all over my furniture by the end of the night. We cycled through movies and albums, a couple rounds of other activities between loads. It was uncomfortably domestic.

At night if Jess has a show, Harry's there with or without me. Sometimes, he'll pick up a broom at Lon's when we're closing, or cut up fruit when we open in the morning. I wish I could say that he fits into my life.

There's a lot of things to like about Harry, but sometimes there are little reminders of the different world he comes from. For example, the reason Harry hadn't done his laundry was because he didn't know how. He's never had to do his own laundry. He grew up with cleaners in the house, and even now as he lives on his own, he sends away for people to do his clothes.

The way he throws money around doesn't always sit right with me. He's not trying to do it to impress me, because he knows that wouldn't work. It's how his brain problem solves. His go to solution is money. It comes off as trying to take care of me. I don't need anyone to take care of me. I don't want anyone to take care of me, especially not financially.

Maybe it's too much time together. I am so used to existing on my own little island, even one extra person makes it feel overcrowded. And some nights I just really want to be by myself. But whenever I get up the nerve to ask him to leave, he kisses me. Then all of our clothes fall off and I'm riding Harry like I'm fucking Paul Revere. And I can confirm, the British are coming.

Now he's sitting here at family dinner. Pancakes are sacred! We do these so often that I could flip pancakes in my sleep. And now Harry's asking me if we can have blueberry pancakes instead of chocolate chip pancakes. Might as well through kale in the scrambled eggs! It only took one look and he backed off. He actually forced James into conversation to keep out of the kitchen.

Monica came in from Lon's about two minutes ago, but luckily everything was still hot as it hit the table. We have the timing down to a science.

"I can't get over how busy it was when I left," Monica huffs as she piles her plate with pancakes. "I didn't think I was gonna be able to get away, but it's in good hands. That's what I'm telling myself."

Jess shakes a can of whipped cream before covering her whole plate with it. "Think of it like a test. If they can survive tonight, maybe they can survive Labor Day."

We try not to "talk shop" during family dinner, but considering it's our common denominator, it's hard to avoid. Especially when things like scheduling affect all of us. I can feel the energy shift. Harry makes a small face down at his plate but quickly hides it. He's tensing up, pushing his eggs across his plate like they've offended him. They don't taste bad. I know because I made them. I've been telling Harry that there's no problem that breakfast food can't solve, but it doesn't seem to be resolving his tension.