Harp Un-strung

“There’s a saying. Would you like to hear it, Claire?”

“I’d love to,” my voice cracks.

“They say yesterday is history, tomorrow is a mystery but today…today is a gift,” he says and takes my hand smiling, encasing it gently with his own. “That’s why we call it the present.”

My chance of doing something right, of leaving all things behind in the past – this is it. He’s my chance.

“Thank you, Michael. I feel better.”

“Unless you’re my aunt, I’d like to be called Mike. That’s non-negotiable.”

I smile. “Okay then, Mike it is.”

“Now,” he says, glancing at his watch, “I was wondering if we could have something for lunch. I’m hungry…"

The first day Mike introduces me to his friends, their eyes bug out.

Moi, Claire Bennet, the pretentious bitch and rich snob would be sitting with them.

I try my best to hide behind Mike, but it’s impossible. I put on a brave face, but panic eats away at my insides. If they reject me, it’ll screw my reputation.

Mike looks anxiously at his friends. “We’re together now, so I was wondering if she could sit with us.”

Dead silence.

“I knew it,” Nathan finally blurts.

His cousin naturally nods his support while Nathan shrugs nonchalantly. Nina and Sam find something very interesting in their plates, perhaps a new engrossing species of spaghetti. They simply refuse to look at us.

“Well?” Mike asks again, wondering what their stony silence meant.

Sam and Nina whisper something urgent, almost as if it’s classified information. Finally, they turn towards us, their private chat having ended at an apparent stalemate.

“I’ll ask one question,” Nina says.

“What?”

“How long have you been having sex?”

That question wasn’t asked quietly either. Every ear present in the cafeteria swiveled towards us. I feel my cheeks warming up.

“N-no!” I insist when I realize that Mike is hopelessly tongue-tied. “We didn’t do any of that.”

“Ha!” Nina squeals in delight. Sam grumbles and puts a dollar on her outstretched palm.

“What was that?” Mike asks her.

“Go ahead, loser,” she nudges Sam. “You say it.”

“Uhhh…” Sam pauses, searching for the best way to put his thoughts, “I bet Nina that Mike and Claire were screwing each other.”

“What?” Mike yells, echoing my thought.

“Apparently, I was wrong,” he sighs.

The corner of Nina’s lips quirk up into a smile. “We wouldn’t mind at all if Claire sits with us.”

“Thanks guys,” he says and takes his seat.

I follow suit and sit close by his side. He takes my hand underneath the table and squeezes it encouragingly.

Nina whispers something to Sam again, but he shakes his head vigorously.

“I can’t,” Sam whines, almost pleading. “I don’t have the money.”

Nina grinned. “We’ll call it a deferred payment.”

“So,” she addresses us, this time beaming widely, “I was wondering if you two have at least kissed each other…?”

Leaving my old circle was hard.

Many times I wonder if I’ve made the right decision. It always felt good to be a part of the crowd that everyone knew, that everyone worshipped. It was like a self-appointed God-status in school. It’s hard to leave something that has been an integral part of your life for as long as you can remember. Admittedly, I had the hang of the childish politics, the gossips and yada-yada involved.

When I look at Mike, all of my doubt disappears like a wisp of smoke. I know I made the right choice.

“So, you’re sitting with them,” Missy says. It’s more of a statement than a remark.

“Yes.”

The hallway is bustling with people, and hardly any people notice us in this hubbub. She looks around herself, an unknown conflict evident in her eyes.

After I started sitting with Mike, the rumor mills began their activity. Some of my old “friends” tried to talk me out of it, while I nodded, as if I agreed with every single one of their stupid points.

“I wish I had the courage to do something like that,” she says sadly.

“Our table is just a short walk from yours.”

She smiles unhappily.

“I wish it were that easy.”

I don’t know what Mike thinks about me.

I know I like him. I trust him, and I want to be with him. He’s probably the only person about whom I’ve genuinely felt something. It’s not a crush. It’s a want.

He, on the other hand, keeps me at an arm’s distance. As if, he’s afraid.

Of what, I don’t know.

“That’s what dates are for!” Joyce hollers through the phone.

“Joyce, he won’t ask me out,” I reply miserably. “I just know.”

“You’ve told me that before, silly. You should ask him out.”

“Me?” I ask incredulously. “I’ve never been out to a real date; forget about me asking him to go out with me.”

“What are you afraid of?”

“I don’t know. Don’t want to push him, I guess.”

“Dearest cousin,” she says exasperatedly, “he won’t refuse you. You can take it in writing from me.”

“What if he does?”

“He has no reason to. Tell me one, and I won’t push this topic.”

“…”

“Thought so,” she continues. “Now, when would be the best time to ask him?”

“Umm…”

“You once said he stays inside his house during weekends,” she rattles on. “You will ask him out tomorrow morning.”

“But –”

“That’s my girl!” she chirps happily. “Call me tomorrow after you’ve asked him out. If he agrees, which I’m sure he will, we’ll chalk out the next phase of our plan.”

“What–”

“Bye, Sweets! Call you tomorrow,” she sings.

“Wait, Joyce, I still –”

She had already hung up on me.

This feels more like a tornado that leaves chaos behind. I hold my head in panic, wondering what to do.

I’ve never asked anyone out for a date. It’s always the other way around – guys asking me out and getting refused.

Mike, will you please go out on a date with me?

Too needy.

Mike, how about a date?

Too callous.

Mike, kiss me!

I can already see his eyes rolling out of their sockets.

Why am I so agitated? I’m a beautiful, confident girl.

I can do this.

I hope.

~ Begin Again ~

The streets are empty. Only a few people waddle around with determined looks, desperate to lose a few pounds of fat.

I've been thinking a lot about my future these days.

Joining the Special Armed Force was my dream. I couldn’t join the elite Black Guard unit, as they were handpicked orphans, but I’m still eligible for the Special Land Forces Unit. If I somehow crack their tests and qualify for an overseas division, it’ll be the opportunity of a lifetime.

Discipline was never a problem. I've been living in self-imposed discipline for the last two years. I just have to break the news to my sister gently, because she will go ballistic if she hears this news.

And Claire?

I haven’t put much thought to it, but I guess she’ll be supportive.

With all my concentration on the few feet ahead and the thoughts circling my head, I barely notice the runner colliding head first into me. The person is lucky as he got me to cushion his fall.

I’m not.

I land hard on my back, knocking most of the air from my lungs. What little remains are forced out by his weight landing on top.

Cruel World one, Michael zero.

Surprisingly, he doesn’t even make an effort to get up.

The sonovabitch.

"Oh God, I'm so sorry!"

I don't have air in my lungs. I can't even see. My heart is beating like a psychotic drum. I try to gulp as much precious oxygen as I can before I pass out.

"Mike?"

There's no way a guy could have a voice that soft.

"Come on. Get up!" She offers me her hand.

My vision has returned, somewhat. The early morning sky has an amazing shade of blue. It's funny how I've never noticed such a stunning scenery before, obstructed somewhat by Claire’s worried face.

"The grass is way too cozy," I whip out lazily.

Claire grins at me, blinding me momentarily with her dazzling white teeth. She ponders for a moment before plopping down on the grass beside me.

"Damn right it is."

I lie there on the ground, admiring the scenery above, and beside me.

"So when did you start bumping into people?"

She punches my arm lightly. "That was an accident." She pauses. "You look as if today were the end of the world."

That gets a laugh. "I'm sure it wasn't that bad."

"If you can't see ahead, then I'd bet it was."

"When did you start these morning runs?"

"About a year ago. A girl has to keep herself in shape, y'know."

And it definitely shows.

I lie there for some more time admiring the early morning sky, the trees, the birds, the –

"Mike?"

"Hmm?"

"What are you doing this Friday?"

The question was so rapid that I have to re-run it in my head. Once realization dawns, an involuntary smile creeps onto my face.

"You’re asking me out?"

"Maaybeeee."

Let’s see, I don't have anything to do, except mope around the empty house, watch a movie, cook my dinner and maybe even polish up my boring homework. I rise first, help her up, and take some time dusting my pants to think about it. We have been friends for a while. Surely, a harmless date would be okay.

She's looking at me expectantly, lips pursed. A few strands of her silky hair have gone astray, giving her a wanton look, and her normally pale skin is flushed from her recent exertions.

I'm certain.

Even wild horses can’t stop me from going out with her.

"We have a date."

She brightens my day with another dazzling smile.

"Thanks!"

Before I can do anything, she stands up on her toes, kisses me on my cheek, turns around and jogs away. I'm left standing awkwardly caressing my cheek, which still burns after ten minutes.

On Friday, all hell breaks loose.

"Dump these black clothes. What are you, a Goth?" My cousin looks disapprovingly at the T-shirt I hold up for inspection. This is the fifth consecutive piece of clothing rejected without an iota of respect.

"Black is classic, bro. I wear it whenever I'm in doubt."

He shakes his head in utter disgust.

"No wonder you were single," he mutters, rummaging through my cupboard before coming out with an ancient piece of clothing I've never worn.

It’s a dark blue, button-down shirt, a gift from Mom on their anniversary.

"Will you look at this?" he says with some sort of smug satisfaction I can't comprehend. "A treasure beneath all this junk."

"Hey!"

A minute later,

"Momma would be so proud."

"Shut up."

I have to agree I've never looked better because the shirt fits my physique perfectly, unlike my preferred brand of baggy clothes.

"Alright I gotta go. Bye."

"Don't mess this up by trying to be someone else."

I roll my eyes. "Yes, Dad. Lock my house on your way out."

I run out of my house as fast as I can. The weather is clear and perfect for what I have planned so I take my car and set off towards our meeting point.

Claire told me to meet her at a café near her house. It’s a posh area, situated in the wealthy zone of our town. I told her that I could pick her up from her house, but she insisted otherwise. Part of me says that she’s embarrassed about something.

I just hope it isn’t me.

I park my car at a safe distance and get out. Although I wouldn’t touch Dad’s BMW on any given day, he isn’t here to stop me. I took the liberty of cleaning it inside out and use it for myself on special occasions, like this one.

I didn’t even recognize her at first glance.

A black one-piece dress adorns her body, the skirt barely reaching her knees. It leaves her toned legs open to my gaze. I realize it’s the first time I’ve seen her wearing something other than her skinny jeans.

A faint makeup highlights her features. The only outrageous difference is her lips, a sharp contrast to her fair skin, painted with a dark-red lipstick.

"Close your mouth." She grins.

"You're beautiful," my voice is an obnoxious croak.

"Well, thank you!" she gushes and makes a little curtsy. "Shall we?"

She offers me her soft hand. I gladly accept it and lead her to my car.

I think I must be the happiest teenager alive.

I take her to the summer carnival that has just opened by the beach, filled with couples like us, out on a Friday night. Our conversation is more riveting than the attractions themselves. We talk about everything and still don’t run out of topics. Even the silence between us is comfortable.

I also learn she's a very lousy shot.

"Oh, come on!" she cries desperately after her third and final attempt to hit the moving toy aliens. She really wants that fluffy white teddy, but with an aim of such rotten accuracy, it would be nigh impossible.

The game is predictable. On a closer look, the toy aliens followed a ‘P', an ‘O' and then finally a ‘Z' pattern.

"This game is rigged!" she cries out indignantly.

"It ain't, sweetcheeks," the keeper shoots back, looking very happy with his little profit.

"Here, let me try." I hand the smug keeper another two bucks.

I miss the first one.

"Warm-up," I mutter to a sniggering Claire.

I knock the aliens off their hinges on the second and third try while the Carney still has the silly grin on his face.

I beam right back at him.

I pick up the pearl-blue teddy for Claire and the white unicorn for Breanne for my two successful shots.

"Thanks." Her smile turns me into warm, gooey mush.

We walk out of the carnival into the beach with a vanilla snow cone in her hand. I decline the sugary goodness, feigning sensitivity to extreme cold dishes. I have to join a Boot Camp after a few months. Watching what I eat now will be a real help to me there.

"I don't remember having so much fun," she chirps in between licks. I'm fascinated by the sight of her pink tongue darting out to lick the snow cone.

"Me either,” I say, using what must've been the best one-liner to have existed for guys to say.

With our shoes slung by our fingers, we walk hand-in-hand down the beach. The sand is cool between my toes and the cool night air barely a caress to my skin. The gentle noise of the waves breaking on the shore adds a quiet serenity to the beautiful place. We walk away from the noise of the carnival, each absorbed in our own thoughts.

We approach a group of rocks amidst the waves, the jagged edges looking forlorn underneath the moonlight. Climbing the rocks, where they meet the sea, we sit down.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” she asks.

“Yeah,” I reply, just as mesmerized. “I think I could stay here forever.”

Just then, a particularly strong wave crashes onto the rock, spraying our feet with warm seawater. As the water recedes, it leaves behind a faint ticklish sensation, making her laugh. The sound is beautiful, and carefree.

“Mike?”

“Hmm?”

“I want to say something.”

“Go on.”

She looks down at her feet, focusing, before she begins, “I have had a very rough childhood. Despite being born with a golden spoon, I never had the parents to love me. My brother, the only one who understood me, died a few years ago.”

I can feel the pain brimming over, but her voice is neutral. I know she’s not asking for sympathy. She just wants me to hear it out, to understand her, what she’s going through. I take her hand in mine and link my fingers in hers, encouraging her to go on.

“All of my friends try to use me. All of them are fakes. I even tried to commit suicide once.” Her grip on my hand tightens painfully as the memory rears its head. “But I got over it. My cousin, Joyce, saved me. I had grown cynical over the years, hating everyone and myself. I never believed that good could exist any more.”

She looks at me, a sad smile coloring her face. “Then you came along and proved me wrong. You’re the best guy in the world I could ever ask to be with.”

She rests her head on my shoulder, as I wrap a protective arm around her. This is probably the first time she has revealed so much about herself to anyone else besides her cousin.

I wonder how I can divert her thoughts.

“Do you remember your challenge?” I ask.

“Challenge?”

“That you’ll figure me out someday,” I say, “before the right time.”

She looks at me. “It’s hard to study a subject like you.”

I stare at the waves crashing over the shore. The scene hasn’t changed one bit, as if time had frozen it over.

“What do you see?”

“I see sadness,” she says slowly. “It’s something that still makes you sad, and I think it’s the same thing that has matured you ahead of your time.”

“My parents died two years ago,” I say.

“What?”

Disbelief, shock, sadness – it’s amazing how she combines all these emotions into a single word. I don’t say anything else, letting her digest the fact. It’s not every day that I reveal my past.

“But, the first day we met, you said that-”

“- that they’re not coming back anytime soon,” I complete her thoughts.

I’m sure her brain is doing overtime, matching the puzzle together and fitting in missing pieces of my character jigsaw.

Everything must fit perfectly now.

“I’m sorry. I could’ve never guessed that,” she says after a few moments, and holds me tight. It’s comforting that way, having someone to hold you while you confess your horrid past. No one ever did that for me, not even my sister.

“It’s okay. Aunt Sherry, Dan and Claudine kept me sane all this time.”

“How could you be so composed after all this?”

“It’s a long story.”

“Tell me.”

I take a deep breath. “My parents and I had a big fight. They wanted me to do something, and I wanted anything but that. We dragged it on for a week until the day of their wedding anniversary. All of us were in the car when the tanker hit us. In an instant, everything I knew just…went away. Forever.”

A hard swallow doesn’t help with the knot in my throat. She holds me tighter, saying nothing as I go on.

“We didn’t even talk much that week, apart from acknowledging each other’s existence. I even said that I hated them and wouldn’t see their faces ever after I graduated out of school…I just wish I could say that I loved them a lot one last time. When I awoke from the coma, I promised myself that I wouldn’t do anything again that I’d regret that much.

“It’s a strange feeling, this regret. Even when you think that you have gotten over it, it comes down on you with vengeance.”

“I’m so sorry,” she whispers.

“Don’t be.”

She doesn’t say anything else, but holds me as I pick up the scattered pieces of my thoughts.

“My sister…she doesn’t even want to see my face now.” A dry, humorless chuckle escapes my throat. “She says I’m a painful reminder of Dad.”

Memories like these have stopped causing pain. All that remains is a dull ache whenever I recall the events from two years ago. It’s hard to get over it, but I give it my best shot.

“I remember something that someone said,” she says. A faint smile plays on her lips. “You know, when I was feeling pathetic and the lowest I’ve ever felt in my life, this guy came up to me and told me a wonderful thing.

“What was it?” I ask, genuinely curious.

“Yesterday is history, and that we should live for today.”

That brings a smile. She remembers that.

“You need to let go of it, Mike,” she says quietly. “It’s for the best. Your parents wouldn’t want to see their son miserable like this. They knew you loved them despite what you said.”

“Probably,” I concede.

“Probably?”

“Okay…yeah, they knew and wouldn’t want to see me like this.”

She kisses my cheek softly. “Much better.”

I feel safe this way, comforted by someone who has been through a similar life. She understands me in a way that my own family can never do. We sit in the silence for some more time. As much as I would’ve liked to sleep on this spot, I have a responsibility to make sure that Claire is safe back in her house.

“C’mon, Claire,” I say reluctantly, “it’s time to go.”

She pouts, and I’m highly tempted to backtrack on my decision.

“It’s getting late,” I stress.