oh, anna [-hs]

ruby tuesday

a/n here ya go!

13.

So instead of spending the night at Wes', I go home and read more of Harry's book. And let me say, it's sad. Like really sad. I think I cried four times. But in my head that makes sense, Harry seems like the kind of person that listens to sad music, reads sad books, watches sad movies, and enjoys himself.

I turn the last page and immediately feel the pain in my back from bending over the small lamp in our living room all night. I reach my hand up to rub my shoulder and look out the window. Through the window, I can see the tiniest bit of purple as the sun starts its climb out of the darkness. Leo feels my sudden shift, and his eyes blink open, staring up at me from my lap. He reaches his paws out to stretch, and his mouth opens wide to yawn. I scratch him between the ears absentmindedly, thinking about the book.

The story's about some guy and how he fell in love with his wife, who died unexpectedly. It's about their relationship, his grief, and music. It's about a lot of music. I reach for the book again, flipping to a page that I had marked with a sticky note.

When we die, we will turn into songs, and we will hear each other and remember each other.

Daniel was a lot of songs. He was "Brother, Brother", "Two of Us", "Landslide", "Sweet Seasons", "Gotta Get Up." I can't listen to Harry Nilsson at all anymore. All I can see is Danny holding my hairbrush like a microphone, shouting "Up and away, got a big day, sorry can't stay, I gotta run, run, yeah" into my face every morning before leaving for school.

I drop the book onto the floor with a soft thud, and it scares Leo. He jumps off my lap and goes down to inspect the noise. I reach for my phone and press his contact. I'm not sure if he'll even be awake right now, but he told me yesterday that he's an early riser. Maybe that meant up with the sun.

It rings four times before he picks up, he's out of breath. "Hello?"

"That book was sad."

"You finished it?" He pants.

"Well, yeah."

"You got it two days ago."

"So? Why are you so out of breath." I shift in the chair.

"I'm on a run."

"So early?"

"I couldn't sleep." He confesses. I bite my lip.

"Me neither." There's an awkward silence for a moment, all I hear is his soft breathing in rhythm with his feet hitting the pavement.

"So you thought it was sad."

"I mean, I think every person on the planet would think it's sad."

"But did you like it?"

My mouth twitches back and forth. "Yeah, I did."

"Is that all you've got to say?" He chuckles.

"Well to be honest it hit pretty close to home."

He doesn't respond.

"Hey," I start again, trying to fill the awkward space.

"Yeah?"

"Want to get coffee?"

We meet at Beachwood, sliding into a booth next to the windows. By now, the sun is peeking up over the buildings, shining a golden light onto the yellow wood of the table between us. He runs a hand through his hair, he looks really tired today. Kate brings us our coffee. A triple shot for him, a cappuccino for me.