The Stacks

Chapter 6: You've Got A Friend

Song: "You've Got A Friend" by James Taylor

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The drive to my apartment was filled with an awkward reticence. Thankfully we didn't have to go very far. When Harry pulled up to the curb in front of my building, I turned and said to him, "I'm sorry. About your wife. I had no idea."

His eyes remained fixed on something directly in front of him. He just nodded and said, "Yeah."

"Thank you for the ride," I spoke slowly. "I'm thankful you were there. I mean, he was just a drunk guy and I guess I shouldn't have been so scared." 

He looked at me then and reached over to give my hand a little squeeze. "No, that would have been scary for anyone. Drunk people can be surprisingly strong sometimes."

"Yeah," I agreed. My throat was becoming dry and I was starting to get emotional. I had to get out of the car quickly before he saw me fall apart. "Thanks."

"Hey," he said, putting his hand on my arm. "You're still pretty upset, aren't you?" I nodded. "I understand if you're not okay with this, but would you like me to come up with you, just until you're calmed down a little more? You can trust me, I promise." 

Without hesitation, I answered, "Yes, I'd like that. Thank you."

I led him upstairs, pushing back the small warning bell that rang in my head that reminded me how very little I knew about him. Before I turned the key in the door, I said, "What if I told you I have a Rottweiler who is very protective over me?" 

"I would say that's very smart," he replied. "But you don't, do you? I'd think I would hear him scratching or whining at the door, waiting for Mummy to come home." I found his use of the word Mummy to be rather adorable.

"You're right, I don't. But I do have pepper spray in my purse, so just be forewarned."

"All right," he said with just the hint of a chuckle. I opened the door and he stepped inside. "Wow, this place is fantastic," he said.

"Thank you. I like it a lot," I said. "Come on in. You can put your coat there," I told him, pointing to a hook on the wall near the door. 

He stripped off his long coat and revealed not only his faded gray t-shirt but numerous tattoos covering his left arm. It was hard not to notice them, but I didn't say anything right away. I was curious, though, hoping I would get a chance to see them more closely. Tattoos fascinated me because people usually didn't just go and get a random tattoo; there was often a deeper meaning behind them, something important enough to want to have it permanently etched on their skin. 

When we moved further into the apartment, I just stopped and took a deep breath, still trying to shake off the panic from earlier. Although the situation had been resolved, my heart was still racing in fear.

"You okay?" Harry asked, touching my arm lightly. 

"Mmmhmm." And then, in spite of my best efforts, I started to cry. I didn't like crying in front of people, but it was too late now. He cautiously pulled me against himself, giving me the freedom to pull back if I wasn't okay with it. But I leaned into it and he tightened his hold while the tears came down. My face was pressed up against his shirt and I noticed that he smelled clean, very much unlike the first day I met him.

"You'd think I would be tougher, having lived downtown for four years," I finally said, sniffling. 

"You are tough," Harry insisted. "An attack like that would give anyone a fright."

"Thanks, I appreciate your help," I said, pulling back from his embrace. "Do you want anything? Tea or coffee?" 

"Tea would be nice," he smiled.