Callum & Harper (25 page)

I removed my arm from my eyes and looked at her. She shifted and rolled over on her side, propping herself up on her elbow. I followed her lead, doing the same.

“
Yes?” I asked her beautifully moonlit face.

She didn’t say another word, just slid over to my side of the bed and wrapped her arms around my bare chest, fitting her head underneath my chin. I didn’t want to think about how well her body fit next to mine but I couldn’t help it.

After an hour of just holding one another, Harper spoke. “I’m glad I married you,” she said before drifting off into a deep slumber.

“
I’m glad I married you too, Harper,” I whispered into her hair, “because I’m in love with you.” But she didn’t hear, gone into a dream.

Sunburn

Callum

“
Dude, your hair is getting ridiculously long,” Harper teased, running her hands through it, sending a shiver of warmth down my spine and my eyes rolling to the back of my head.

    “
Think I should cut it?” I asked drunk on her touch, lounging next to her on the sofa, otherwise known as ‘Callum’s bed’.
The microwave beeped and Harper jumped up, tripping over the step into our kitchen as it was so dark. The smell of popcorn wafted its way into our little living room. She came back with it in a giant bowl along with two bottled waters.
    “I wanted soda,” I said, furrowing my brows.
    She sighed but shoved her shoulder into mine as she sat. “I know that but you’ve already had four today. I’m vetoing a fifth.”
    “Fine,” I sang not wanting to admit how much I still loved that she looked after me.
    “And no way,” she said.
    “No way, what?”
    “No.” She cleared her throat, staring into the bowl. “I don’t think you should cut it.”
   
For two years, Harper and I had been playing the ultimate game of cat and mouse. Now, I know what you’re thinking. ‘I thought they were only going to marry for a year, then annul, divorce, whatever.’ Well, truthfully, we liked being ‘fake married’ or as I like to secretly call it, ‘faking that my marriage isn’t real’. Also, unfortunately John Bell was only sentenced to a year in prison and had been released six months prior. Though, he’d yet to find us, I wasn’t going to leave her defenseless while we were in school, so we decided that we’d stay married until the end of the school year. That was partly by design. I wasn’t ready to leave her yet. I didn’t want to.

We didn’t need any more grants starting our sophomore year and had become completely independent. We belonged to no one. We owed no one. We were each other’s family. This was it for me. There were things that had been happening lately that made me think this was also it for her.

“
Your hair is getting long as well, Harper,” I stated, unsure how to tell her that I loved it as long as it’d become.

“
Do you like it?” She asked me, turning away from the screen.

“
As a matter a fact, I love it,” I said honestly. It reached her elbows now in long, loose coppery waves, like when we’d first met. She’d cut it after we’d married just under her shoulders.

“
Thank you. How’s Krantz treating you this semester?” She asked.

“
Like crap as always,” I admitted, making her laugh.

“
I told you not to take him for Bio-Chem. Everyone and their dog knows not to take Krantz, even journalism majors,” she winked.

“
Yeah, well I told you, I didn’t have a choice. The only other option was when you were already off and I didn’t want to have a conflicting schedule.”

“
Yeah, yeah. I think you just like torturing yourself.”
You have no idea.

A scary part of the film came flashing across the screen, making Harper scream and jump in my lap. She grasped my shoulders and pulled herself into me closely making my heart leap to my throat.

    “
Sorry,” she whispered, scurrying off me quickly, a blush creeping across her gorgeous neck. I’d wished the scene had lasted longer just so she could have stayed in my arms.
    “It’s alright,” I said, readjusting on the sofa.

Harper had decorated our apartment in a lot of different pieces. She dragged me to the Sunday swap meet near Charlie’s practically every weekend that first year. We’d buy little pieces together and place them in our house, making it a home. She described our home’s style as eclectic. I can remember every piece we bought together and why. For instance, the sofa we sat on was ‘a tufted purple velvet Chesterfield’. I had no idea what that meant but I just nodded and agreed to its purchase as it was the first thing she’d found that made her squeal in excitement.

And the wingback in the corner? It was a piece of crap when she found it at the thrift store but she promised me it would look good once we recovered it in a funky pattern and, of course, she was correct. I refused to go to the cloth store to pick out the fabric and told her she had carte blanche. She came back with a mustard yellow print. I didn’t have the heart to tell her I hated it but when she made me stay up until one in the morning recovering it with her, it’d grown on me and it ended up being my favorite piece we’d ever bought because of the conversation we’d had while covering it.

That’s what I loved about the furniture in our apartment. I could care less what it looked like. Harper could have had the worst taste in the world and I would have loved it regardless. She doesn’t, by the way. It was the fact that she was in every piece, in every corner, on every shelf. She was everywhere, reminding me how much in love with her I was.

In the two years we’d been married, I’d only kissed her once and that was on our wedding day. She tortured me with hugs which I gladly took. I’d kissed her neck more times than I could possibly count but it was starting to wear on me. I was too invested to confess all now. I was frightened to admit to her how much I loved her, afraid she’d bail, not wanting to torture me under my own roof. And I couldn’t just be friends with Harper. It was all or nothing and nothing scared the ever living crap out of me. So I took all her friendship and pretended it was enough.

“
Did you pay the insurance, Callum?”

“
Yes, honey bunches of oats,” I laid on thickly.

“
Shut up,” she laughed.

I stood up quickly.
    “Where are my slippers and pipe?” I demanded, “And roast beef
again
for dinner? Woman! You are dangerously close to a spanking!”
    “Take that sexist crap and shove it,” she laughed harder, doubling over.

She surprised me by tripping me and I fell hard onto the hard wood floor. I was laughing too hard to get angry. She was laughing as she crawled toward me and lay down beside me. We both stared at the ceiling, our laughs dying out slowly until our breaths were the only thing audible beside the film.

   
She turned on her side, her head resting on the inside of my folded arm.
    “I have a lot of fun with you,” she said.
    “Me too. I’m wonderful.”
She slapped me playfully and I tickled her until she could barely breathe.
    The next day was Friday and we were both off school that day but had to work at the campus library which proved useful for both of us as there was a lot of down time and we always needed to study. It also helped that when we got off, most of our work was already done and we could spend a lot of time with another.

“
Get the mail, Harper,” I said, juggling my back pack and keys, stepping off our elevator.

“‘
Kay.”

Harper opened our little box with her key and removed four or five envelopes, shifting each one behind the other as she read off what each one was.

“
Bill, bill, junk.” She stopped on the fourth one. “Hmm,” she said, eyeing the envelope. “It’s a letter, for you.”

She smiled and squeezed my shoulder, handing over the letter. She tucked the remaining letters into her own bag and we headed toward the subway to get to work.
    As we sat, our bodies leaning into one another, I opened the letter. Excited butterflies filled my stomach and I unfolded its short contents
    “Read it to me,” I said, handing it over.
She took it and began, clearing her throat.
Callum,
This feels so strange to finally be able to write you. I’ve been searching five years, since I graduated school actually. It was incredibly difficult but I finally found your records with the state and followed the homes you’d lived in. This address was the last listed in your name and I’m hoping it’s the correct one.
You probably know nothing about me but my name is Ames Tate and my brother was your father. I remember little of him but from what I do, he was a good man and so was your mother. If it means anything to you at all, they loved you more than they loved themselves. They would have and did do anything and everything to keep you happy, healthy, and safe. Even one as young as I, was able to recognize this in them. They were in love with you as were us all. You were a bright, charming boy and their love for you reflected in the way you played and loved as well.
I’m writing because I wanted you to know that you do have family who still loves you, despite the fact that we’ve never met. You’re my only family as well and I hoped that we could meet one day. I’m still single, though I’m working on that, and living in Seattle. I’ve attached a note with my address and e-mail. If you ever feel like dropping a line, please do.
Sincerely,
Ames Tate
    Harper looked in my eyes, tears spilling from her own. “Oh my God, Callum. You have family.”
    I squeezed her hand in mine, accidentally crumpling the letter. “I already knew that.”
    She kissed my cheek and wiped away a stray tear. “Are you going to write him back?”
    “Of course, I’ll e-mail him as soon as we get to work.”
    “I can’t believe this. It’s so exciting, don’t you think?”
    “It is, kind of. I’m a little nervous, though.”
    “What for?”
    “Well, I don’t remember him at all but I remember my dad a little and I’m nervous to see how much they look alike. I just don’t want to rehash buried feelings.”

Harper nodded and wrapped her slender arm around my broad shoulders. She could barely fit it across and it made me laugh. I leaned back slightly and brought my own arm around her frame, hugging her close, kissing the top of her head.

    “
I love you, Harper.”
    “I love you, too, Callum.”
    We were always telling each other that but I’m not sure it meant quite the same thing coming from her as it did when I said it. When I said it, baggage was attached. When I said it, I was really telling her that I was
in
love with her, that I wanted to cover her body with mine at every possible second, that, in my heart, she really was my wife, and that I had been aching to make love to her. No, not have sex with her. I wanted to make love to her, intertwine my fingers and my body with hers, drink her in and inhale every inch of her, memorize her skin.
    “How long have you been married?” A woman next to me asked.
    “Two years,” I said, still holding tightly to Harper. She raised her chin and smiled.
    “Ah, the honeymoon phase,” the woman teased. “I have a feeling you two will always live in the honeymoon phase. You have ‘meant to be’ written all over you.”
    “Thank you,” Harper said, smiling at me and laughing. Laughing because we held a secret. A secret that only she really wanted to keep.
    Work was work. I got all my studying done, which was ultra nice, wrote Ames and befriended him online, read a little, helped about five thousand people find books and teased Harper. We got home around ten and we both plopped onto the sofa.
    “It’s Friday, babe,” she said, poking me with her bare foot in the ribs.
    “Don’t! That tickles,” I said, laughing and grabbing my side. “I know, should we see if The Ivories are playing tonight?”
    “That’s a really good idea. I’m tired of staying in and I haven’t seen Cherry in a week.”
    “I think Charlie will be there as well,” I stated absently.
    “Good, maybe he can jump off his ‘dumb stool’ and get with the program already.”
    “I know! It’s been two years already. Make a move!”
She laughed. So did I, but it wasn’t out of humor. It was out of stupidity at my own statement. I was a massive hypocrite.
    Harper put on a short skirt, not too short, I made sure of that. Yeah, I’m a Neanderthal but a sane Neanderthal and that’s all I cared about. She wore her boots and a tight vintage tee. She let her hair down and it flowed to the middle of her back. As she put on her make-up, I walked by her open door to the kitchen and did a double take as she was slightly bent over. I couldn’t help myself. I came to stand behind her and watched, running my hands through her copper strands. She closed her eyes lazily and swallowed hard.
    “Stop,” she said breathlessly. “You’re making me sleepy.”