Harold

six

The next two weeks go by slowly. It's finally my birthday, March 25th, and nothing I care to celebrate. When my parents were still alive, they threw Alex and I the biggest party on the block. Everyone came even if they didn't bring presents. We didn't really mind though, we had cake and a bouncy house and once even clowns.

Harry was terrified of clowns. It was hilarious.

But when my family died, my birthday wasn't the same. Alex was my twin and sharing my birthday with her was enough. I didn't care about the parties as long as I could wake up with my sister beside me.

So each birthday (no matter how depressed), Harry made me a cake and gave me his very own birthday extravaganza. One year he put on a puppet show and another year he saved up all of his money and took me to a fancy restaurant. It was the one day of the year I grew to love all because of Harry.

It would be the fourth year of a birthday without Harry and I despised it. Especially knowing he was here in LA.

"Hey, what's up with you, grumpy pants?"

Carla sits across from me as I slouch at my desk, sending email after email accepting and declining artist. I have about ten CDs left to listen to and then I will go home and dive into a tub of ice cream and Netflix.

"Nothing; just tired of listening to this. It's all shit, I've had two good artists today."

"Woah there, someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed!" I look up, seeing Carla's hair is now completely pastel green. It's not the first time she's done something ridiculously drastic.

"I'm sorry, rough week."

"Does it have anything to do with your best friend?" she uses air quotes and winks. Yes, it actually does.

"Nope, just tired."

"You're a bad liar. So, what happened?"

I tell Carla everything, including the kiss and his freak out (leaving out the extent of his freak out). I tell her the way he holds me, and the kiss he pressed to my shoulder the first night we reunited. I tell her about the way he called me "my girl" and how he was jealous about other men staring at me.

"So," she shrugs, "go talk to him then. That isn't fair to you if he's been leading you on."

"It isn't that simple," I shut my Mac and begin packing my things. I'll finish the CDs when I get home. "He's always acted like that but I just figured since it's been so long, maybe he'd want more."

"Hasn't he always wanted more? Aren't you the one who pushed him away? Maybe he's confused."

I nod and consider what Carla says when I leave. I'll find him tonight. It is my fucking birthday.

>>>>

I look everywhere: the phonebook, newspaper stations, and a vape shop. Who knows, he could have brought his skills here.

I begin my drive home, completely exhausted from driving all over town. I should have known it wouldn't be this easy. Harry used to be easy. He used to fall at my feet.

And then I remember.

"Of course," I shake my head and turn around. His dream was to be an editor. He majored in English. Why wouldn't I try the biggest editing company in LA?

"Hi," I place my hands on the front desk and look at the man in front of me. His black hair is in a perfect quiff and I swear he's wearing makeup.

"Hello, welcome to Carson's publishing. How may I help you?"

He has to be the least enthusiastic secretary I've ever met but ignore it, hoping Harry works here and he can give me an address.