Thirty-Six （B） – Harrison
THIRTY-SIX (B)
HARRISON
Several Years Ago
R ain taps steadily against the window, the late spring storm casting a gray haze over the campus. I stare outside in silence, watching an ant crawl slowly across the wet sill.
“Hey, man.” Jackson sets a cup of coffee and a paper bag on my desk. “Got you some lunch.”
I don’t respond.
“The landlord’s asking if you’re staying past graduation. What should I tell him?”
Still nothing. The ant is gone now, washed away or hidden.
“Almost every girl I’ve run into lately has asked where you’ve been,” he says, stepping closer. “You’ve gone from the main character on campus to a ghost.”
I nod. That’s all I can manage.
“Harrison?” He places a hand on the back of my chair and spins me around to face him. “I need you to talk to me today. It’s just me.”
His eyes flick down to the gun resting in my lap.
“You were just admiring it, right?” he asks softly. “Waiting to tell me what you think?”
He doesn’t wait for a reply. He steps forward, calmly takes it, and slips it into his back pocket.
“My life’s over,” I say finally, voice raw. “I’d appreciate it if you gave that back.”
“Well, seeing as you stole it from under my bed... tough shit.”
“I’m not going to ask again.”
“You threatening to fight me?” He raises a brow. “You think I won’t lay your rich ass out with one punch?”
I almost smile. Almost. But my chest is cracked open, and it takes too much effort to pretend anything else.
“Why do you think your life is over?”
“That’s what happens when you lose the person you made all your plans with,” I say, my throat tightening. “My brother’s gone.”
I swallow hard. “That’s why I went home a couple months ago. We were supposed to take the MCAT together, get licensed together… Doesn’t matter. None of it matters now.”
Someone knocks on the front door, but Jackson ignores it. He sits across from me, leaning in.
“You really think your brother wouldn’t want you to follow through with what you two planned? That’s all you ever talked about.”
“I could just give up. Take the easy route. Inherit everything and pretend that’s enough.” The words fall flat. “My parents would love that.”
“That’s exactly why you’re not doing it.”
“They’re acting like nothing happened, Jackson.” I wipe at my eyes. “Like he was just a family friend we’ll see again someday. Meanwhile, I’m here trying to survive this shit alone.”
I sigh. “Even if I did want to keep going, I haven’t studied for the MCAT in months. I’m probably set back an entire year.”
“Nah, I don’t think so.” He walks over to my bookshelf, grabs a stack of unopened mail, and pulls out an envelope. “Here.”
“What’s this?”
“Your official MCAT results. I already saw the digital version, but they mailed the hard copy yesterday.”
I tear it open, frowning. My name is correct. My score is just four points shy of perfect.
“You… paid someone to take it for me?”
“Fuck you,” he laughs. “I was you.”
“You took the MCAT for me?”
“I’m just a business minor, I know. But you suit-and-tie types overcomplicate everything. I’m pretty sure I can point out the exact questions I got wrong. Couldn’t let you get a perfect score. Gotta leave room for me to outshine you someday.”
I stare at the page, stunned.
“By the way.” He hands me my license. “Figured you’d want that back.”
“I don’t even know what to say.”
“ Thank you would be a great start.”
“Of course. Thank you, man. Thank you so fucking much.”
“I turned in your final papers for Hershwin and Jansen, too,” he adds. “But Nolan’s only giving you an extra month to take his final. You’ll have to do that one on campus, in front of him.”
“That’s my easiest class anyway.” I’m still trying to process everything. “Wait, did you finish your own coursework?”
“I’ve been done since January,” he says with a shrug. “His stuff’s easier than running a farm, so I used my downtime.”
“What were you doing when you said you were going to study, then?”
“What do you think?”
I laugh—for the first time in weeks.
“My dad’s gonna be thrilled to have me back home after graduation,” he says. “Plenty of work waiting.”
I study his face. Harrison’s dad has been dead for over a year. He’s never talked about it, but I found out after overhearing a call and tracking the funeral. He left for the weekend, came back like nothing happened.
“Were you ever going to tell me your dad passed away?”
“I just did.”
I open the mini fridge and toss him a beer. He catches it without missing a beat.
We drink in silence for a while, the air thick with things we won’t say.
“I owe you for the MCAT,” I finally say.
“You’d have done the same if I hadn’t made it to the Agri-Exams.”
“Except I would’ve failed spectacularly, ” I admit. “I don’t know shit about farming.”
“It’s the thought that counts.”
“I’m serious, Harrison. If you ever need anything— anything —just call. I’ll come running.”
“We could use a new bull steerer.”
“Anything non -farm related.”
He laughs. “I’ll keep that in mind.”