REDAMANCY [h.s. au]

17

"Even a painful longing is some form of presence."
- Anna Kamienska

⭑Harry⭑

"Have a good rest of your day!" I yell over the commotion of preteens scurrying out of my classroom. A few acknowledge me with mumbled, "Bye, Mr. Styles", before I'm left with a quiet solitude after practicing for the Spring concert.

End of the school day. Thank god.

I love my job. I love teaching and sharing my love of music, seeing the way it's changed some of my students lives. But it's just been one of those days where my mind has been elsewhere and I could've used a glass of wine at noon.

"Knock, knock," Sam says before walking in looking very English teacher-cardigan and loafers and disheveled hair. Book in his hand, of course.

"Hey, mate," I mutter, packing some papers into my bag.

"Don't sound too excited to see me," he chuckles.

"Sorry. Just a lot on my mind is all," I reply.

Like the fact that I was inches and seconds away from pressing my lips to the ones I've been deprived of. And, for the first time in five years, it seemed like our wants were aligned. And how I have no idea how she's feeling about all of this. I don't want to call her or text her, scaring her off or coming on too strong. But I'm reeling over what was going through her mind in that moment, what's she thinking now about it. Does she still want to kiss me? Or was that some momentary collapse of judgement on her part?

He nods his head to the door. "Come on. We're going to the pub. And then you can tell me about whatever it is that's on your mind," he insists. I'm sure he has some sort of idea as to what's on my mind-I texted him last night telling him that Holland was coming over to watch Ivy.

If there's one thing Sam loves, it's to be in the know. He was a little pissed at me when I originally didn't tell him about running into Holland. So, last night after she agreed to it, I had to tell him.

And a beer, or two, actually sounds great. It was an early dismissal day at the school today so I don't have to walk to Ivy's school for an hour to get her.

I might as well go.

"If you insist," I joke with a dramatic huff, like he's twisting my arm to go.

"Alright, let's go old man." He taps his foot impatiently. He'd be a real annoying git if he weren't my best mate.

"Again, I am only 6 months older than you," I quip back with feigned annoyance.

"Yeah, but you've been married, been divorced, and have a child. That adds like...at least a few extra years to you." He's not wrong, to be honest.

"Thank you for the gentle reminder that I'm a single, divorced father at 29," I say with a fake smile, clapping him on the back as we walk out of the school.

"Hey! At least you've still got the looks!" He'd be such an annoying git if he weren't my best mate.

We walk down the street and are actually really close to the Fiona's Pages. I picture Holland, wearing some sort of colorful sweater, her wispy hair all messy, and those long legs of hers strutting across the dented wood floors with piles of books in her arms. I imagine what it would be like if we were together-I'd get off work, pick up Ivy, and then we'd go to the bookstore to see Holland. She'd smile at the sight of us and I'd cup her cheek and plant a gentle kiss on her pouty lips. It's everything I've ever wanted.

Once we're at the small, rustic pub, we seat ourselves right at the bar. There's a few others scattered about, nursing drinks with glazed over eyes, but besides that it's pretty desolate in here.