Chapter 29 Awakening 101
Harold sat in the last row, swallowed up by the crowd standing behind him. His face was still red from being called out by Moira, but now he was considering jumping into the fray of discussion.
What he wanted to say was that yeah, Bianca’s book had perhaps misled him.
Or maybe he’d misled himself. He’d gone from Harold Meh to Aroldo Megawatt, and now here he was back to the beginning.
A fucking boomerang. What she’d said about the middle?
It made sense. The whole thing made sense, and hearing her talk, hearing Bianca be so honest with herself and with others resonated in a profound way.
He wanted to be a part of her awakening, and before he knew it, his hand went up and Bianca pointed in his direction.
“May I chime in, as someone who enjoyed your book? I’m sort of where you are. I tried to become someone I wasn’t, and it wasn’t achievable. Or sustainable.” He glanced over at Sandy because he felt her looking at him.
“I’m trying to start over and figure out what’s next,” Harold admitted.
“What is next?” Bianca asked, the tone of a woman who cared deeply. “You’re Harold, right? What’s your story? Can we do a deep dive?”
“You’ve hit gold if you want to do that.”
“I do. If you’re up for it. I won’t even charge.”
A snicker from everyone.
Harold felt nervous but also inspired. Here was a woman who’d torn her book in half and then cried in public. “Yeah, okay, where do I start?” The birth of Aroldo seemed like as good a place as any, but then something made him think back further. “You want the truth, like the real truth?”
“That’s the best kind. Don’t worry. We’re all family.”
What did he have to lose? Alice? No. His dignity? Maybe.
“I’m a . . . well . . . I was a barista living with my mom a few months ago, working at a coffee shop in Denver, when a redhead appeared and altered my universe, as if my destiny had walked through the door.
I was coming from the back with two jugs of whole milk when I set eyes on her.
She ordered, took a seat at a table by the window, and started looking at her phone.
I’m not sure what came over me—love, or lust—but I had this desperate urge to talk to her, but I didn’t have the confidence.
Or a chance in hell. So I created this new person in my head. ”
Harold’s heart pounded but he kept going.
“I took off my apron, fell into an alternate persona, like an avatar, and took a seat next to her. No longer was I the hopeless barista living with his mom, too chicken to apply to colleges. I’d become a different Harold, and somehow, I was able to improvise as we spoke.
I introduced myself and said that I was an entrepreneur who liked to occasionally work in the coffee shop.
Alice was visiting friends but living here in Bologna, a student at the university.
She was younger, which made the whole thing easier.
For some crazy reason, she took to me, and we were laughing within minutes.
And that fed this person I’d become and gave him confidence.
Before I was busted by my manager, I suggested that she and I go for a walk. ”
He shook his head, remembering that out-of-body feeling as they strolled the street chatting. For once in his life, someone had shown interest in him.
“Go on,” Bianca said.
“And then we had lunch and spent the afternoon together. Had dinner. Kissed that night. I couldn’t believe what was happening.
Of course, my manager was texting me nonstop.
By the end of the weekend, there was no turning back.
She had a flight out, and as we were saying goodbye, I suggested I could take my work with me and come visit for a while. That’s how I got here.”
Everyone in the bookstore listened intently, and it was only then that he remembered that he had a tremendous fear of public speaking. What was happening?
Bianca said softy, “I’m so glad that you’re sharing, Harold. How brave of you.”
“And it only gets worse from there.” Settling in, he told them about pretending to have clients, but they were actually his gamer friends back home.
He shared everything about Aroldo, admitting how he could barely remember the transformation.
“I wouldn’t blame it on your book per se, but I was certainly on a journey to supercharge myself.
Really, the reason I’m sharing is because I’m tired of hiding and you’ve inspired me. ”
He looked over at Moira, wondering how she fit in. He wasn’t even sure who he was, so how could he know what she meant to him?
Bianca took over. “Harold, your courage and the love you’re capable of is who you are.
And there’s absolutely nothing wrong with who you were in the first place.
It’s one thing to better ourselves, another to change into someone else.
You and I were both guilty of it, but we still have time.
We always have time. Why not go find your Harold in the Middle. ”
“Yeah. I guess so.”
“Seriously. Even us at our worst is enough. Can you imagine all the things since the beginning of time that had to align to lead to you entering the world and taking your first breath? There’s nothing more beautiful. We’re all miracles. By simply breathing, we’re enough.”
Shivers of hope ran up his spine. “But how do we believe that and live that?”
“Great question.” Bianca sat up, and he could see she was truly thinking about it. “Because the same force that made rivers flow and flowers bloom made you. It wasn’t an accident. You’re part of the design.”
Harold spun her answer around in his head. “Yeah, but that just means I happened to make the cut. My dad’s sperm swam fast. Actually, he told me one time he wished he’d worn a condom. How do I really believe that I’m enough as I am?”
“I suppose that’s where faith comes in, Harold.
Something far greater than me and you said yes to us.
We got the green light. Okay, you might not have realized your purpose yet.
We’re born miracles, and then we have to find out how to shine our light the brightest. How to give thanks for this miracle of life.
But even when we’re not shining the brightest, when we’re still trying to find our way, we’re enough. ”
“You’re still not answering the question, though. Give me proof that we’re enough. That I’m enough.”
Bianca sat up straighter, pure light on her face. “I get you, Harold. I see you. And I’m going to throw something back at you. Why don’t you believe it? Where is your faith?”
“I’ve never had any.”
“Why?”
“Because of life. Because I had a father who wasn’t really a father. A mom who was just trying to survive. I’ve been kicked around all my life, failed at everything except this one thing I did, this finding Alice and chasing her here. And that might have been my biggest failure so far . . .”
“Well, if you’re trying to figure out your next moves, don’t sleep on going to law school—if you’ve ever considered it. You have a natural talent for argument.”
Everyone laughed, but in a warm way. In a way Harold wasn’t used to.
Bianca continued. “Okay, fine, maybe we can’t ever know for sure if we’re enough as we are.
No grand authority in the sky is going to come down from on high and deem you worthy of your life.
You have to believe it. Every day. Not because you may or may not be a wealthy entrepreneur, or because you have great style, or because you’ve landed a stunning redhead.
Or because you’ve written a book that’s set the world on fire.
You’re worth it because you decide to be. No one can take that from you, Harold.”
“Yes!” someone shouted.
“Hear, hear,” said another.
What she’d said took his breath away. Maybe it was that easy.
Bianca stood and went to him. When she got close, she reached out a hand and pulled him up, then hugged him. Everyone else rose and started clapping, and when Bianca let him go, the next person was there to hug him and then the next, then the next.
For the first time in his life, Harold felt truly whole.
After everyone had dispersed, George found Sandy ringing up a last customer. “What an event,” he said.
“Yeah, not what I expected.” She gave the customer their change, then faced him. “You must be proud of her. That was special.”
He looked through the window at his daughter, standing outside chatting with some of the other guests.
“I’m endlessly proud of her.” Back to Sandy, he said, “I wanted to see if you might be interested in joining us for dinner tomorrow night. It’s my last night.
” He told her the details of Corrado’s restaurant, then drew a line through the air. “Just as friends.”
“I see. Who else is joining?”
“It was going to be a couple of Bianca’s friends, but they had to cancel. So the three of us, if that’s okay.”
“Could you make it five?” She looked over at Moira stacking chairs. “I’d love to invite Moira and Harold. I have some making up I have to do with them. I’ll pay for—”
“Sure, they can come,” George blurted out. Anything to spend one last night with her. Even if it was just as friends.
As he waited for Bianca to finish up with her new fans, George wandered around his mind, putting together the pieces of what Bianca had said today. And how Harold had experienced such a breakthrough by simply being honest with himself and everyone else.
George concluded that he had to tell Bianca what he’d said to Corrado.
But how, and when?
Harold found Moira putting away chairs. Most of the guests had left. “May I help?”
“Yeah, sure.”
He picked one up and folded it, searching for what he should say. Then it seemed obvious. “I’m sorry. For lying to you. For leading you on. For not seeing how you felt.”
“We don’t choose who we like, Harold. You have nothing to apologize for.”
He helped her for a few minutes, unsure of what else he could do. It felt like a stupid move to tell her that he did like her, now that his blinders were off. He didn’t want to make her feel like second place.
Not that she was.
“What are you doing later?” he finally asked.
She shook her head.
“Wanna hang out?”
“Harold, I don’t need pity.”
“This isn’t pity. What if I told you you’re the only friend I have?”
She laughed. “I’d tell you that you’re the second person who’s told me that today.”
“Okay, wasn’t expecting that. Maybe that’s what you do to people, make them feel like they matter.” He took her hand and pulled her toward him. “I’d like to get to know you. You’re the only friend I have and maybe more.”
“Maybe more.” She pulled back her hand. “Don’t do this.”
“I’m asking if you want to hang out tonight. I have to go home in the next few days, and I refuse to leave until we’re back to normal.”
“What’s normal?”
“You know what I mean. Gosh, stop giving me such a hard time. I can understand if you don’t ever want to see me again because I’m a fraud and a liar, but if you can look past it, then maybe we could start again.
I could show you who I am. And if that person, the real me, is still someone you want to kiss, then you should probably be certified legally insane—but nevertheless, I’d welcome it with all of me. ”
He found her eyes and took her hand again. “You were the first one to ever tell me that I didn’t need to be somebody else. I’m sorry for not listening. Will you forgive me?”
“I might be able to look past it.” She gave him a wink that sent flutters into his heart.
If he was looking for proof of a greater design, he’d found it in her eyes then.
“Hey, you two bozos,” Sandy said, appearing out of nowhere. “Wanna go to dinner tomorrow night? Fancy Michelin place with Bianca and George? It’s his last night. And don’t worry, I’m paying. I’ll buy my way back into your hearts with good food and wine.”
And if Moira’s eyes weren’t proof of miracles and a greater design, then Sandy asking them both to dinner surely was.
Sandy surprised Harold even more by lightly taking him by the arm. “Can I talk to you for one moment?”
Guiding him to a spot between the Mystery and Sci-Fi shelves, she crossed her arms and struggled to get it out—whatever it was on her mind. But when the words finally left her tongue, they seemed to escape easily.
“You’re not the only one to blame for the whole Aroldo thing.
I’m afraid I pushed you into becoming him.
I see so much of my son in you, wanted so badly to help you to get Alice back, that I got carried away.
You’re spectacular just as you are.” She took a long breath.
“As you can imagine, I’m not one to sling words around like that often.
So when I offer a compliment, consider it gold.
If you’re struggling right now to accept that you matter, let my assurance do the heavy lifting until you get there. ”
She’d joggled something loose in Harold, and a warmth ran up his spine. If Moira’s eyes and Sandy’s invitation weren’t enough to prove the existence of a higher power, Sandy saying this to him certainly was.
Breathing back tears, he replied, “You have nothing to apologize for, my friend. Even little ole Harold can put some effort into his clothes, into his appearance. And maybe even little ole me deserves a spot on the dance floor.”
“Isn’t that the truth?” Sandy reached up and touched his chin. “You’re a gem, Harold. Like a son to me.”
He matched her shockingly sweet gaze. “You can be my Bolognese madre any day.”