18. Felix
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
FELIX
After a long and emotionally draining day of funeral arrangements, Thomas and I return through the front door of his apartment at sunset.
I want to fall into bed and sleep for an entire day, but Harper is the priority.
I also told Thomas I would pick up incoming relatives of his from the airport later tonight, giving him a chance to rest from the day.
“We should check in on Harper,” I say.
“Go ahead,” Thomas tells me. “I need a moment to myself.”
“You okay? You did good today. Clara will have a beautiful service.”
“She will. Thank you.”
He leaves for his office without a word. I don’t know whether to follow him or not. I spoke the truth about him just now—Thomas pulled himself together when meeting with the funeral director. During moments when he was too overwhelmed, I stepped in and helped make decisions for the service .
To my surprise, my father turned up—unsurprisingly with his check book. He insisted on paying for all funeral costs as an ode to my mother’s best friend, and as gratitude for all the time Clara spent caring for me and my brothers over the years.
Deciding to give Thomas his space, I head for Harper’s bedroom.
“Felix?” he calls before I get too far.
“Yes?”
His forehead creases and there’s a look in his eyes like he’s battling over what to say. “Thank you for being with me today. I couldn’t have pulled through without your support.”
“Of course. There’s no need to thank me.”
“One other thing. I know we haven’t gotten along in recent years. It’s no secret Harper and I weren’t happy about Clara’s decision for you to live here.”
“I can pack my bags and return home?—”
“No. What I was about to say is Clara loved you and wanted you under this roof. She saw the good in you. Since her passing, I’ve seen the good in you too.
I wouldn’t feel right asking you to leave.
It’s clear that you and Tyler are taking good care of Harper during this time in need.
Care that I’m incapable of giving her. You and your brother are welcome to stay here for as long as you like.
It’s what Clara would have wanted. It will make my life a lot easier knowing Harper has a good support network around her. ”
His words are a shock, but I appreciate them. I don’t remember the last time I received praise from anyone, let alone Thomas. “Thank you.”
We part ways and I head to Harper’s bedroom. I’m dying to see her and hold her in my arms, even if all she does is cry .
Her room is dark when I arrive. She’s not here, which is a surprise, though a good sign. Her body has been under a lot of stress, but she’s well enough to walk about.
Tyler is alone, asleep in the bed. Instead of asking him where Harper is, I let him sleep, knowing he needs rest. I pull out my phone, checking Harper’s location. It tells me she’s here in the apartment somewhere.
I search room by room. The home library. The indoor pool. Once I’ve scoured the whole apartment and can’t find her, I realize I haven’t checked the rooftop garden. Clara always loved to paint up there. Harper will be on the rooftop, for sure, wanting to feel close to her mother.
I enter the elevator, eager to see Harper. I don’t know what to expect from her, but I’ll be whatever she needs me to be for her. God, I sound like Tyler right now. This is what Harper does to me. I’m not even mad.
When I arrive in the garden, I get the fright of my life, seeing Harper walking along the thin ledge of the building. Surely she can’t be thinking about jumping. I have no clue what she’s doing, but it’s dangerous. I’m afraid to announce myself in case she gets a fright, loses balance, and falls.
Remaining silent, I watch her from afar.
She’s wearing a fresh change of clothes for the first time in days.
The wind picks up, ruffling her white night dress and billowing through her hair.
Her skin is pale against the night sky, more so than normal.
She’s depleted. My girl looks like a ghost. I need to take care of her, feed her, and somehow bring life back to her eyes.
She comes to a halt, peering over the ledge of the rooftop. Only now do I realize something is in her hand. A pair of ballet shoes. When she holds them up, dangling them by their ribbons, I recognize the exact pair. Her first ever pointe shoes.
At the age of eleven, she was excited to advance to pointes. When her first set died, she drew on them with black marker, doodling love hearts and writing the names of famous ballets she one day hoped to dance in. Sleeping Beauty was first on the list.
She said she would keep the shoes forever and they would be a reminder of hard work, achievement, and aspirations.
I watch now as she drops them off the side of the building, throwing them away.
“Harper,” I speak her name softly, trying not to startle her. “Come down from the ledge.”
Her eyes whip to me, filled with frustration.
Even anger. She climbs down and storms up to me.
“Nice of you to check in on me. You been off partying or something? I realize I mean nothing to you. I know sex and kissing means nothing to you either, but what we did in your car meant something to me. I was going to give you my virginity. What was your plan, fuck me just to prove you can conquer a virgin who was waiting for marriage? Regardless of that, we used to be friends. My mother has died and I thought you would have at least cared enough about the past to ask how I am. Fuck you, Felix.”
She speeds by me for the exit.
“Harper, wait.”
“You weren’t there when I woke up.” Her voice cracks, mixed with anger and sadness. She turns back to me and from the way her chin trembles, it’s clear she’s holding in tears. “I wanted you there. But you left. You always leave me. You don’t care. I want you to care about me, Felix.”
“I do care?— ”
“You need to leave. Tonight. This isn’t your home.”
She heads inside and I let her go, knowing there’s no talking any logic to her right now. She’s grieving. Perhaps she needs someone to be angry with. I’ll be that person if that’s what she needs. But I’m not leaving.