in time // h.s.

xv. harry

Eighteen years old...

On my eighteenth birthday Gemma found me perched in my treehouse at the bottom of our garden. She'd come down from uni to pay me a visit on my birthday, unlike someone else. I'd been sat in that spot for at least an hour and was in a grumpy, contemplative mood as I stared at an old photo of my dad and me together on my ninth birthday, taken after he'd led me outside into the garden to see his gift for me, that treehouse, built from scratch with his own bare hands. In that vintage and rare photo, my arms are wrapped around his neck with glee, excited that I had a cool den to play in. He's laughing at my reaction with his eyes closed, a lovely image of a dad getting a hug from his grateful child. There wasn't even a hint of the trauma that was to come just five months later. Perhaps leaving us wasn't even on his mind at that point.

"Happy birthday, butt head," Gem grinned at me as she popped her head up through the floor of my wooden house and pulled herself inside.

I said nothing but tried my best to return the cheeky expression she was wearing. I clearly wasn't very good at it, though. She frowned at me straight away, sensing something wasn't quite right.

"What's up?" She asked, crouching her body in two as she made her way through the small structure to my side, it was a tight squeeze now that we were older. "Oh," she pouted as she caught a glimpse of the picture I was holding.

"Yeah..." I nodded dejectedly.

Gemma sighed and sat down next to me.

"Why didn't he come? He promised."

"Maybe he had a good reason..." Gem shrugged feebly.

"Gem, I'm leaving for uni in a couple months and he can't be bothered to drive a few hours to pay his only real son a visit on his birthday before he leaves? It seems he's got a replacement son and can't be arsed keeping in touch with his own blood."

"You know that's not it. Don't be such a drama queen, Styles," chuckled Gemma, giving me a gentle nudge.

"I just can't get my head around the fact that he hasn't even called," I exhaled. "All those birthdays he's missed out on over the years, he's sent a card or called when he couldn't make it, but today he miraculously couldn't do either. I'm eighteen, it's a special one and it just hurts."

"I get that."

"In theory, from this point forward, I'm an adult. He missed most of me being a kid, and now it looks like he's going to miss the rest of my life along with it."

My words lingered in the silence that fell upon us.

"So what?" she asked, matter-of-factly.

"Huh?"

"You have a great life. You're surrounded by people who love you, you've got a wicked relationship with mum and me and you're fucking talented. So why care about someone who hasn't taken the time to realize how awesome you are? That's what I always tell myself."

I looked at the picture in my hands and said nothing, instead concentrating on nibbling at a tiny bit of loose skin on my bottom lip. It wasn't quite the reaction I'd been expecting from Gemma, it was far more diplomatic than the bashing of our dad's crummy morals that I was after.

"Is someone who could walk out on us when we were just kids really worth pining over? I mean, yeah, we see him every now and then when he can find free time in his oh-so-busy life to come down and see us, but is he really worth the energy or effort?"

"I wish it was that simple."

"I never said it was," she shrugged, turning to me with her hazel green eyes.

"Not having him makes me feel trapped and desperate," I confessed, feeling defeated at having to share my niggling thoughts. "Some days I come up here and I feel like that little nine-year-old all over again, wanting him to come back and apologize, to tell us and mum he wants to come back... I know it sounds ridiculous."

"No," Gem breathed, shaking her head.

"This place pulls me in, acts like a safe haven, and then reminds me of his absence," I added, as I took in the ageing and weathered wood around us.

"Then why come up here?"

"It calls out to me. It's just too tempting not to. I spot it from the kitchen or from my bedroom window. I've always thought of it as a place to be closer to him, but I've been feeding myself a sack of shit. All it does is remind me of what I no longer have."

Gem puffed out her cheeks as she exhaled and ran her fingers through her hair, pulling the dark brunette strands away from her eyes.

"I'll be back in a bit," she said quickly, as she shuffled along the floor, grabbed hold of the green rope and jumped down and out of the hole to the grass below. I watched her as she walked around the house and out of the side gate. When she returned ten minutes later she was carrying a bright yellow plastic toolbox.

"What's that for?" I yelled down, sitting up and trying to get a better view of what she was up to.

"Call it a special birthday present," she grinned, opening up the box and taking out a hammer and saw.

"What?"

"A few pieces of wood shouldn't make you query how loved you are, or taunt you about what might have been if dad wasn't such a dick. Now, come down here, grab some tools and let's demolish the crap out of it."

"Seriously?"

"I want to free you of your chains," she smirked.

"I feel like Rapunzel," I joked as I hung out of the window of my childhood treehouse.

"That makes me your prince charming, then," Gem winked. "Are you coming down? Or do you want me to carry you?"

Eagerly, I made my way down from the treehouse for the last time. Adrenaline pumped through me as I took the saw from Gemma and reached up to start hacking away at one of my hidden demons. We ripped, smashed, crushed and split every piece of that wooden structure until there was nothing but a simple apple tree left behind. It must have taken less than half an hour, but I enjoyed every second. At one point I even threw the tools aside and just started pulling at it with my hands, yanking rusty nails away from their embedded homes. Never had I felt so pumped and full of energy.

"Now what?" I asked in my out-of-breath state as I stared at the treehouse's carcass in a heap on the ground.

"We burn it," she grinned, pulling out lighter blocks from the plastic box, along with a box of matches.

I'll admit that the whole thing had an air of teenage girl drama about it. You know, girl gets ditched by arsehole boyfriend and burns every picture of them together in some ritualistic voodoo cursing manner, but as I watched those pieces of wood go up in flames, and flicked that picture from the day it was created on top of the burning pile, I felt a sense of release.

I put my arm around Gem's shoulders and thanked her for giving me the best birthday present I could have asked for.

"Anything for you, little bro," she winked, ruffling my hair. "Now, let's go find those loser best friends of yours, I believe Janet's been helping mum make you a cake."