Keeper

Chapter 52

That afternoon was one of those afternoons where you wanted nothing more than to be outdoors.  To hear the birds chirping, hear the wind humming, and feel the hot spring air as it warmed your skin.  The sun was in the middle of the sky by that time of day, not a single cloud blocking it's visage.  There it stood, round and blinding, in all of it's glory.  That afternoon included all of these things, plus one black-and-white camera and minus two pairs of shoes.

 Like children, we ran around the park across the way from the high school —with feet covered in mud and eyes and ears oblivious to the people who might of been staring confusedly at us.  And I remember Harry would take my picture at the worst of times, whenever I would snort instead of laugh or whenever I ran a hand through my unkept excuse for a head of hair.  There was a small lake at the park's center, a mere stretch of maybe fifty feet long by thirty wide.  Within it, though, sat ducks and lily pads, and around it stood rows and rows of reed plants and tall grass.  Occasionally, you could hear a frog croak, and constantly, the solemn hum of and rattle of evening Cicadas, along with the rhythmic chirping of grasshoppers.

At the edge of the pond I stood with my feet planted messily in the sandy dirt, the mud slimy between my toes.  When I looked up Harry was standing some ten feet away from me, his camera raised to his eye.  A smile made it’s way to his thin lips and he laughed.  “I want you to look out beyond the water.” He said, the words rolling off of his tongue without much of a vocal strain.  His entire body was relaxed as he spoke, his shoulders level.

I did as he said—for he was the artist—and glanced out upon the lake.  As I did so, Harry clicked his tongue.  “Can you look out just a little bit further?  To the other side of the lake, perhaps?”  I nodded and raised my chin a few inches, my eyes searching further about the lake.  There was a tulip blossoming amongst the tall grass on the parallel shoreline.  I tried focusing on that, but the smile that crept it’s way onto my face made Harry stop and sigh.  I bit on my lip, but that only made me smile wider.

“I’m sorry,” I said, shaking my hands at my sides.  “Okay, okay, I’ve got this—”  I was about to turn around and apologize to him, to tell him that I was completely and utterly sorry for not cooperating, but before I could, I felt arms wrap around my waist, and a chin rested itself softly against my shoulder.  A hum came from his throat; a small laugh.

“You’ve gotta work with me here, babe.” Harry said and I grinned.

“Only if you stop calling me babe, babe.” I said.

“It looks like we’re gonna have a problem then, babe.”

I turned my head ever so slightly and glared at him from the very corner of my eye.  He only laughed.

“You never even explained what this contest was for anyway.  If you were to win, what is it that you would get as a prize, exactly?”

 “Wow,” Harry said, his word drawn out by an exaggerated huff.  It was obvious he was being sarcastic.  “A guy enters a contest and makes his girl the main subject, and all she can think about is the prize if they were to win?  The very thought of it.”

"I didn't mean it like that," I said.  On impulse, I fiddled with my fingers.  My eyes stretched across the lake to a kid jumping around in the water, his hands holding a net.  He seemed happy as he giggled, though the  net was empty.  "I just thought, because you seem so interested and devoted in to this, it had to be something nice.  Or big.  Or big and nice."

"You're right," He said, kissing my shoulder.  And then he stood up completely, letting me go.  "It's both."

"So what is it?"  I asked.

Harry suppressed a laugh as he ran a hand through his hair.  His smile was wide, though.  Very wide.  "A cruise departing from New York," He said.  But he wasn't finished.  "It would stop at the Dominican.  There would be a ton of things to do while on the cruise and off of it, of course.  Snorkeling, riding ATVs—It’s fifteen days.  Starts twenty days after graduation, too.”  He then folded his arms, his face complacent.  “Doesn’t sound like a half-bad bad gig, huh?”

"Wow."  Was all I could think to say.  There was something bubbling up inside of my chest, and then I licked my lips and added, "Just for a damn photography contest?"

Harry nodded his head, his eyes wide.  And then he wiggled his eyebrows, his forehead creasing.  "For a damn photography contest,"  He repeated.  "Me and you,"  He said.  "We could do this.”

He leaned in to grab a hold of my hand, but just as he did his phone began to ring to the tune of Yellow Submarine  He scrunched his forehead, his eyebrows furrowed.  "Hold on, I've gotta take this," he said, stepping aside.  His back was to me.

As he stood I looked down at my toes, and as I did I could barely see the pink nail polish below the layer of mud on top of them.

When Harry began to speak, he turned around on his heel.  And instinctively I looked up to meet his gaze.  He met me with worried eyes.

"Yes sir," he said.  His voice was low and course.

The other man spoke and Harry listened—tentatively, he listened.

And then Harry cleared his throat.  "I know sir," he said.  And then there was a dreadful pause, and between it I heard a child scream from the playground.  "I will, sir."

Impatiently, he swayed from one foot to the other, his lip tucked between his tongue as he sucked away at it's plum color, turning it a pale white.

"I'll see you soon, sir."

As he put his phone down, his hands shook.  He tried to disguise the tremors by putting his hands in his jean pockets, though his jaw was still clenched, and his jugular was prominent as he turned his head.  When he looked at me all I could see was the fear behind them.  His face was wiped of all color.  It was almost as if he'd seen a ghost—or death itself.  I tried my best to keep my voice calm and level as I spoke, "Who was that?"

Harry turned to me, his stare blank.  He looked right past me.  At what, I do not know.  The greens of his irises were dark, and the whites were cloudy.  But he smiled that famous smile of his.

"It was my father." He said.  And there was a lingering pause.

"He's been put on parole, he said.  He'll be home shorty, and he said he wants to see me."