Heavy Heart

“I don’t much care what you tell them,” Harry growled into the receiver of his cell phone as they drove closer and closer to his parents’ house. “All that matters is that you keep Daria protected. Don’t tell them where she goes to school, don’t tell them where she’s from, don’t tell them anything.”

Harry was on the phone with his publicist, in the middle of an argument that had lasted for miles. Daria could just barely hear the peaks of the voice on the other end of the line, making out some of the context. Apparently the press was already calling with questions on the photos taken outside Harry’s house that morning. She was amazed how fast word traveled; only a handful of hours had passed.

“Well of course they can know that we’re dating, it’s a bit obvious innit?” Harry spat impatiently. “They can know her name and that we’re dating, but nothing more. She’s the priority, remember that.”

He cast the phone away into an open cup holder, exhaling an irritated grumble. He reached across the console to grab her hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Daria’s heart sunk, despite the fact that Harry was behind her. Her empty stomach churned, the lunch she’d eaten earlier having quickly ended up in the toilet from nerves. She couldn’t seem to keep her hands still, even when Harry placed his firmly onto hers, lacing their fingers together.

“The phone has been ringing off the hook, I reckon,” Harry mumbled, turning the wheel sharply to enter his neighborhood. “It normally takes a lot for them to call me. Usually it’s just rumors unless they have proof. Apparently they’ve sold the photos to all sorts of publications here and in the States and now the rags are calling with questions.”

Daria was silent, her eyes glued to the road in front of her in an attempt to keep her vision straight. The firm foundation she once had her feet firmly planted on was quickly melting out from underneath her, like a pillar of sand struck by a wave. She was sinking into the beach below. She squeezed Harry’s hand and inhaled deeply, trying to steady herself.

“It was bound to happen eventually,” he muttered. “I’m sorry, I should have warned you. We should have talked about this.”

“It’s okay,” she squeaked, despite the fact that it really wasn’t at all. “You’re right, it was bound to happen eventually.”

“We’re not just gonna hand it all to them,” he added veraciously. “We’re gonna make them work for it. If they want to find out more about you, they’re not getting it from me.”

He pulled his car into the driveway at his parents, immediately getting out of the car and running over to her side to open her door. When she stood, he wrapped her up in a comforting hug, bracing her like a gust would come and blow her away at a moments notice. She buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling the scent of his cologne, a part of her wishing he wouldn’t let go.

"Hey, listen," he murmured, his lips brushing her earlobe just slightly. "It's you and me in this together. I'm always going to be here for you, okay? I know you're scared but it'll all be okay as long as we're together."

Daria glanced up at him from behind her lashes, taking in his the sincere look he was giving to her ever so gingerly. In his arms, she did feel safe. She felt the safest she had all day. Pressing a kiss to her forehead, he took her hand and led her inside, greeted with the scent of dinner on the table. Daria was sick to her stomach with nerves, but the idea of a fresh kettle of tea on the stove made her feel a little more at ease.

“Hello!” Anne called from the kitchen, her voice clear as a bell. Daria felt her façade crack in the presence of her host mother; the woman who had been supporting her through what was probably the second biggest change of her life. She wanted to run to her and tell her everything, but again, she was afraid. How Harry’s parents would react to the fact that they were dating was a complete unknown. She didn’t want to cause a scene. In her mind, there was still some chance of batting the flames, keeping it to themselves for just a little longer. To Daria, it was better that way.

“Are you feeling alright, love?” Anne asked when the pair reached the kitchen, enveloping her in a hug. “You’re looking a little pale. Pale as a ghost actually.”

“I’m fine,” Daria replied, not wanting Anne to worry. “I don’t need anything. Just need a cup of tea is all.”

“I can certainly do that,” Anne responded, going to the stove straight away to pour her a cup of boiling water, dropping a bag of chamomile tea. “Robin! They’re here!”

There was a great commotion upstairs, a clattering of some sort followed by Robin shouting, “Coming!” He came downstairs looking rather red in the face, wiping his hands on his faded jeans that looked straight from the nineties.

“What were you doing, Robin?” Harry asked as he removed his jacket, seating himself at the dinner table. There was already a spread of food laid out in front of him; a delicious meal prepared by Anne herself, consisting of some braised beef, mash, and lots of vegetables, as always.

“Oh, work stuff,” Robin replied, joining Harry at the table before spreading a napkin across his lap. “I’m a busy man.”

He turned to Daria, who was standing quietly in the entryway to the kitchen waiting for her tea to steep, and said, “But not quite as busy as Harold.”

“Harold?” Daria repeated with a smart grin.

“It’s a long story,” Harry replied, narrowing his eyes at Robin before spurring him jokingly in the side. “Can we eat now? I’m starving.”

Anne shook her head, motioning for Daria to join the boys at the table, bringing the cup of tea along. “You’re always hungry, Harry,” she countered, taking a seat at the head of the table. “I don’t think you’re growing anymore. You’re just going to put on weight.”

“Oh, to hell with that,” Harry protested, pouring himself a hearty glass of wine. “I’m going to get fat and be happy doing it then. The media will have a field day with that.”

Daria took a sip of her tea, allowing the warm liquid to trickle down her throat before dishing up food onto her plate. She took small portions of everything not to offend Anne, but her appetite had yet to return. The mere sight of the asparagus drizzled in creamy cheese sauce on her plate made her stomach churn. The tea helped steady her though, as well as the presence of people she knew cared about her.

“Speaking of media field days,” Harry continued, sending Daria a cautious but daring look. “I think Daria and I have something to tell you.”

Her heart stopped right in her chest, dropping down like the cords were all cut loose, plummeting into a free fall. She wasn’t ready for this; she wasn’t ready for any of it. Her host family was so important to her, and she still wasn’t sure if she wanted to ruin it over a relationship with Harry. She wanted to keep living in the private happiness of the last few weeks, stealing kisses from Harry when they weren’t looking and calling him when she got home. With a brief jerk of her head, she tried to signal him to stop.

“Harry,” she dissented, her hazel eyes stricken.

“They deserve to know,” he insisted. “They deserve to hear it from you and I, not from the gossip rags when it all comes out in the morning.”

Robin and Anne exchanged confused glances and then turned to Daria and Harry, who were engaged in a deep glaring match. “What’s going on?” Anne questioned hastily. “What do you need to tell us?”

Harry took a deep breath and sent Daria a look, telling her that he was set in his ways and was not going to turn back. Helpless, she gazed down into her cup of tea, the bag floating listlessly on the surface, trickling out little beads of flavor into the liquid. She couldn’t bear to look to see the reactions on her host parent’s faces, for fear of the worst.

“Daria and I, well,” Harry announced awkwardly, finding himself at an unusual loss for words. “We’re dating. As in, seeing each other. She’s my girlfriend.”

His words were met with silence. Too afraid to look up, instead Daria bit her lips between her teeth, wishing she could disappear into her teacup. “The paps saw us leaving my house in London,” he elaborated. “And my phone has been ringing off the hook because they’re apparently, well, having a field day with it, as I already mentioned.”

Taking a brave gulp of air, Daria looked up to see a mixture of emotions on the table. Harry was gazing bravely at his parents, slicing into his beef with a rather sharp knife. Robin looked a bit confused, while Anne’s emotions were nearly impossible to distinguish.

“How long has this been going on?” Robin asked, a muted excitement in the undercurrent of his voice.

“A few weeks at the most,” Daria murmured, taking another long, unsteady drink of her tea. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I didn’t want things to change between all of us. You’re really important to me, and I don’t want you to think I’m using your Harry by any means.”

Harry set down his utensils, reached over and took her hand, giving it a light, reassuring squeeze. “I sort of wanted to keep it private while I could,” he murmured, returning to his wine. “You know nothing is private anymore. I just wanted it to be me and her for a while. Just us, you know? I’m sorry we didn’t tell you sooner.”

There was a silence between them all, the only sounds being the clinking of china and the light scraping of knives against porcelain, light smacks of chewing and sips of drink, mostly on Daria’s part.

“Okay,” Anne finally breathed, taking a long sip of her wine. “Okay. Congratulations to the both of you, that’s very exciting.”

Daria was a bit confused as to what exactly that all meant – Anne was certainly not her over-the-top excited self, as normal. But instead there was an air about her that was completely unfamiliar to Daria, something of a complacent indecision. But that was all that was said on the subject, and they went back to eating.

After everyone had finished, Daria’s plate was still full, her stomach churning with anxiety. Everything in her life was about to change as she knew it, and she knew it. There was no control anymore, and that was one of the things that gave Daria the worst of panic attacks. It wasn’t that she was controlling, it just was that when it came to her life, she liked to be able to make her own choices about what direction she was going in. The worst things in her life had come from things she couldn’t control.

“I’m sorry,” she said to Anne, scraping the portions on her plate into the respective leftover containers. “It looked delicious. I really am just… a little unsettled right now.”

The sounds of Harry and Robin laughing from the living room trickled into the kitchen, followed by the clapping of an audience on a television program. Daria helped dry the plates and put them away in their respective cupboards, sending sideways glances at Anne all the while to gauge her emotions.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” she continued, just lowly under her breath. “I didn’t know how. But you deserved to know, and I really am sorry for keeping it from you. You’re the closest thing I have to family around here.”

Anne pushed down the faucet, the stream of water turning into a sparsely dripping trickle. Drying her hands on a towel, she turned to face Daria, beautiful face soft as ever. “I’m just worried, that’s all,” Anne murmured.

“I won’t hurt him, I promise,” Daria reasoned, tucking the last of the dishes in the cupboard.
“I’m not worried about him,” Anne clarified. “I’m worried about you.”

“What?” Daria questioned shortly, pushing back the stray hairs that escaped her bun.

“The media can be harsh, and you’re not used to it yet,” she continued. “You’re not used to anything like that. But they’ll have no mercy, the fans won’t either.”

Daria stood quietly, eyes downcast to her bare feet on the hardwood floor. Anne had a point. She was nowhere near close to prepared for the storm that was about to crash into her, changing everything forever. There was not an idea in her head for what was about to come to her, just that she would have to fight to get through it. She attempted to swallow the lump in her throat but instead choked on it a bit, struggling to maintain her composure. The last thing she wanted was for Anne to be really concerned.

“But for what it’s worth,” she offered, her eyes softening, a smile dancing in the corners of her lips. “I’m glad it’s you.”

She went to Daria and wrapped her in a hug, the same comforting, all encompassing hug she gave to her the very first day they met. A little glimpse of joy came into Daria's heart, the joy of approval from one of the women who mattered to her most.

“I couldn’t have picked a better girl for my Hazza myself.”