Paper Cranes

Arianna was scolding me as she chewed happily on a piece of her precious cheesecake. 

"What were you thinking?" Her fork wiggled in my direction. "All you ever talk about is how you want to find 'the one', like Ted on How I Met Your Mother." She shoveled another piece in her mouth, "And even he's gotten himself more successful dates than you. Why did you run away from him?"

"I wasn't thinking." I rolled my eyes at her as I put the cookie tray in the oven. "I panicked, okay?"

"I'll say. God forbid he wanted to help you. There's nothing scary about that you dummy." 

"I'm not you Arianna. I embarrass myself, and I was afraid that I'd do something stupid."

"You don't call running away stupid?"

"Believe me, I regret it. Kind of." I sat on the chair next to her. 

"What if you just ran away from something you'll never have a second chance at?"

"Doubtful. Let's say that I had stayed and talked to him. Let's say that in some months he told me he felt something for me. But in a few months after that things won't have worked out between us, and he'll probably have left me for someone better."

"You can't possibly mean that. You don't even know the guy."

"I know enough about people to know that he would probably get bored with me in no time. Assuming he was even interested in me that way."

"You've got to give yourself some credit." Arianna downed some milk, a few bites left to her slice. 

"Why?"

"Because you're not like the rest."

I shrugged. "That's a good thing?"

"Sure it is. You think every guy's looking for the same girl who's a dime a dozen?" She shook her head. "And even those who are, they don't realize that's not what they need. People walk around with lists in their head, of who they want and how they'll act. But I think that those who think they know what they want, are fooling themselves. Nobody really knows who or what they want. Not until it's right in front of them." 

I tried to contain my surprise at her well thought words. "I - I suppose." 

"And even then, everything happens for a reason, right?"

My eyes flickered toward my bedroom door, the cranes floating through my mind. "Yeah."

"So maybe you'll see him again." 

"Maybe so." 

After all, fate works in mysterious ways.


Arianna tugged me along the busy streets, pulling me towards the gelato shop downtown. 

"Not a word of this to my mother," she teased.

I raised my hands in a surrendering gesture. "I would never."  I pointed to the upper half of the building, where the shop was located. "I'm not so sure about Mrs. Scherbatsky. You know how she likes to gossip. Word might get out that you're actually eating things you enjoy." 

She shoved my shoulder, "Shut up." 

Our laughter echoed back at us as we ascended the stairs.

The gelato shop was our favorite place to hang out at in the summer. Since it was on the second floor of the building they had a small balcony where customers could eat happily. It overlooked the downtown area where they could sit, watching as scattered people roamed the ground below.  

It was one of my favorite places in the whole town, all because of the view it offered.

While you could not only see across the small town square, it offered a look at the forefront of the old church, its graceful archways and high swooped ceilings. The outer perimeter bordered by black iron wrought fences that appeared both dark and beautiful at the same time. The surrounding lawn was a luscious green, tall trees scattered throughout the yard. 

Looking in the other direction you could see easily above the tips of most buildings, since they were either two stories high or less, all built decades before I was even born. This was the oldest pert of town, and I loved it dearly for that fact. The simplicity in the elegant architecture gave you a glimpse at what it may have been like to like here when times were simpler. Behind the buildings you could see the clear outlines of the mountains in the distance, some barren due to past forest fires, others completely green. 

I liked coming here most at night, as they had twinkle lights twined through the lattice on the terrace and around the railings. It was even better to come sit just as the summer sun was about to set, the golden rays cascading through the hazy clouds, creating hues and shades of purple and pink that danced across the vivid sky.

"I'll have the strawberry please," Arianna said.

"What size cup, hun?" The elderly woman asked. 

"Large please," she smiled sweetly.

Ms.  Scherbatsky grinned back, before scooping it out. She owned this gelato shop along with her husband. Most days her grandsons would work here, helping for the sake of making her smile, because she loved the shop dearly. It had been here as long as I could remember. When I was younger my parents used to like to stop by sometimes in the summer after going to church with my grandmother. 

"Ricky step out?" Arianna asked as she handed over the cup.

"Mhm. Kylie's around here somewhere with Calliope." Kylie is Ricky's wife, and their three year old daughter is Calliope. She's the sweetest thing I've ever met, her young mouth saying things with that lisp only children seem to have. She was a riot, and far too smart for her own age. "What would you like dear?"

"A large lemon cup, please." She grinned. I never got anything different. 

"Would you girls like to see her?" Ms.  Scherbatsky asked as she rung up the two gelatos. She knew how fond we were of that little girl. 

"Sure," Arianna beat me to it, scooping a spoonful into her mouth as I handed over the cash. 

"They should pop up soon. When I see her I'll send her over." 

"Thanks!" We both called as we made our way to the balcony, sitting at a table in near the edge. 

We ate in a comfortable silence as the sun began to hover over the horizon. As I looked at the rooftops ahead I felt my fingers itching to draw. 

My hand delved into the small bag I had, looking for my book, only to come up empty. I frowned. 

"Forget your sketchbook?"

"I guess so." My forehead creased. "I could've sworn I put it in here when I went to the grocery store." 

"You didn't take it out? I mean you did go two days ago. It's probably sitting on your window sill at home."

I shook my head. "I guess it's possible. But I'm almost positive I left it here."

She shrugged, eating thoughtfully. "I'm sure it'll turn up."

I nodded, scooping up another spoonful. After awhile my eyes landed on the town square, scanning the crowd roaming below. It was Sunday afternoon, and most people were roaming the area with their families, having just gotten out of church. Children skipped along happily, their parents laughing with each other. 

I notice a small family of three, the small girl holding both parents hands, laughing giddily as they swing her between the two of them. Her golden curls bounce as her body shakes from her laughter, and her parents share a smile.

I smile to myself, but it slowly disappears as I think off what my relationship used to be like with my parents. For a long time when I was younger there were a lot of stolen moments between my parents and I.

But then times changed, and we all aged. My dad started throwing himself into work as I got older. Soon he was always thinking about his problems and the typical things parents worry about. 

Between all that he dealt with at work and pressuring customers, something in him changed. He didn't want to just talk for the sake of talking anymore. He only wanted to talk about school and what my current GPA was, or to lecture me about how I was never going to get into college the way I was acting. As though a 3.7 wasn't nearly good enough when I could "easily get a 4.0". 

Sometimes he yelled at me, and I learned to take it. It was then that I took to staying in my room, eating as fast as I could at dinner, or taking the food with me. I couldn't look at him the same. I couldn't talk to him the same. Because it seemed that no matter what I did he was never happy. All our conversations ended as fast as they started. And he always looked at me with those jaded eyes, that showed just how tired he was of everything. Of everyone.

Of me. 

I'll never forget the way my mom just sat there. She didn't say anything to him. She didn't tell him that I didn't deserve to be yelled at. She just sat there. And everything thereafter, she sat there as he let me have it. As he told me whatever he pleased because he couldn't say it to the people who were really at fault. 

Because I was his daughter, and I had to love him.

I started to tell him to calm down when he directed his anger at me, trying to lighten his blows. But it only seemed to put more force behind his fords. He would yell at me to shut up,that I couldn't tell him what to do. That he hated it when I told him to calm down. And that above all, he was the parent and I was supposed to fucking obey him because I was the child. Because apparently I never did as he said.

I never disobeyed him though. I tried my best in school, I never stayed out late. I never partied. I did everything he asked of me. 

I guess that wasn't enough for him.

He continued to lecture me and I learned to be okay with it. I let him scream at me, let him tell me how messed up I was. I let him throw the parts of me that I hated most right in my face. 

My heart broke every time he did that. But it wasn't for me. I didn't think he meant most of the things he told me at first.

No, my heart broke because the world had finally taken its toll on him.

When my grandmother passed, I think that was his breaking point. She was kind and loving, probably the most generous person I have ever met. Much like her name, Grace, suggested, she brought people nothing but good things.

Problem was, she had a hard time telling people directly how she felt about them. She would push them to be the best they could. It was just...maybe just a little too hard. When they succeeded, she never told them how proud she was, despite the fact that I could see how her eyes shimmered with pride when she heard the things they'd done. 

As a kid I could see it, so why couldn't my dad?

He started his own business after seventeen years of working for other people. She watched it all happen, and I could see the way she looked at him. With respect. With love. 

She just never told him how proud she was of what he'd done. Even though she told me so many times that he had worked too hard, that he gave too much of himself to other people. I could see while she smiled at him when he spoke, when he made jokes, how much he loved him. 

She passed without ever telling him as much, and I could see what that had done to him. 

He lived his whole life hearing her tell him that he needed to be the best person he could, that he needed to give everything he had to reach his goals. And when he reached them, he never heard her tell him that he was the best son she could have ever asked for. 

He lived his whole life waiting for her approval.

When she died she took a part of him with her. She took the part of him that lived life without a worry, because in the end God made sure everything worked out right. 

It was never said aloud, but my dad always thought she loved his brother more. He'd said it once while he was talking to my mom days after she passed. And I could see where he was coming from. My grandmother always babied my uncle. But that didn't men she didn't love my father just as much, if not more. 

The change was visible to me, during the months that my grandmother's condition worsened. He stopped smiling. He stopped joking. He stopped laughing. 

And for awhile after everything had run it's course, things seemed to get better. 

But then his friend came back from Washington, and my dad did what he could to help him get back on his feet. And in the time they spent together, my dad had grown bitter. His friend complained about life, sure he had every right to. His wife left him, and his own daughter was slipping away from him, throwing herself right and left at boys at the mere age of fifteen. My dad loved his friend, but he didn't seem to be the same person he was before his wife ran off. 

My dad was wearing thin, the pressures of running a business hitting him hard. Life threw bills at him and people took advantage of his generosity. And he grew cold. Because one of the people he thought would never use him, did.

And I tried to show him that I was there, that I loved him. But he didn't seem to care. 

That or he took advantage of the fact that I did, figuring that I'd always love him. 

And I guess he was right. Because as much as I want to hate him for everything he's said, I still love him. 

I shook my head, eyes still roaming over the crowd of people as they walked below. Now was not the time to sulk. I'd had enough of that these last years to last me a lifetime.

Arianna was humming along to the quiet music when a head of chocolate curls bounced into view. 

It couldn't be.

But the longer I looked at his head as he chatted animatedly alongside his blonde friend, the more it became clear that this was the boy from the other day. This was Harry. 

I took in a small, shocked breath. Arianna heard this and gave me a sideways glance. 

I couldn't tear my eyes away. 

He stood still for a moment before looking up, almost as though he knew I was staring at him. Our eyes connected for a millisecond before his dimpled smile appeared. I felt my chest give a squeeze that a wasn't completely uncomfortable. 

"What are you looking at?"

"The guy I ran into the other day. He's down there." 

"Shit, where?" Her eyes scanned over the people. "Curly?" She pointed directly at him.

I nodded. When I looked back at him, Harry waved. I hesitantly I returned it. A few words were exchanged between Harry and his friend. Next thing I knew, he took long strides out of view and I had a feeling I knew exactly where he was headed. 

He was coming over here. 

"Oh God." 

"What?"

"He's coming up here." 

"Guess you'll have to talk to him then." 

"But I-" 

"Oh shut up." Arianna laughed. "You were saying earlier how you regretted not talking to him. Here's your second chance." 

Whatever words I was about to say were cut short as his tall frame walked through the arched door.

"Holy shit." Her jaw threatened to unhinge.

"I told you." 

His long legs were clad in dark jeans. He wore a plaid shirt made of various colors of tan, a bit of red, and brown, that was unbuttoned partly to display a white shirt below it. Tips of a tattoo, though I hadn't the faintest idea what, were peeking out above the neckline of his t-shirt. A silver watch glittered on his wrist, a jacket held within his hand.

Suffice to say, my stomach knotted itself within seconds. 

Harry paused to embrace Ms. Scherbatsky, cutely enough kissing her cheek as he pulled away. The older woman was grinning ear to ear, as he chatted with her, smiling with each passing word. After a few minutes were spent, words echanged between the two, Harry hugged her again before he continued to walk to our table. 

Arianna was laughing silently at my reaction, her body shaking as she took another bite of her gelato. "And you mean to tell me you were just going to walk away from him."

He caught my eye and Harry smiled brightly, his steps bringing him to the table. "Mind if I join you?" 

"No she doesn't." Arianna grinned at him, answering before I even had time to process what was going on. The chair scraping against the ground was what caught my attention, breaking through my stunned haze. 

"Harry, this is my best friend Arianna." I motioned to her, eyes wide.

"It's a pleasure to meet you," he smiled at her, extending a hand forward. Without much thought she took it and they shook, her eyes flickering to meet mine. 

"You too. Melody hasn't stop-" Arianna was cut off before he could say anything else, her phone ringing to life. She glanced at it, a grin coating her face. "I'll be right back." I could tell it was Devante.

As she walked to the other edge cradling her phone against her face, I felt Harry's eyes on me. 

I took an glance at him, before my eyes suddenly became interested in my slowly melting gelato. I swirled the small spoon around the cup, lemon slices getting lost within the beginnings of a syrupy substance.

I wasn't sure what to say. What was there to say to someone who you met only days ago, and then ran away from? I felt that I would have said something to make matters awkward, so I stayed quiet. But in doing so, I created a whole other level of awkward. 

"How are you?" Harry asks.

"Fine and you?" My words came out more quietly than I'd intended, and I was surprised he'd heard them. 

"Fantastic." 

After a pregnant pause on both our parts Harry laughed a little. "I don't understand. You practically ran away from me the other day, and right now you won't even look at me. Am I really that ugly?" He jokes.
 
Far from it.

I shake my head, eyes downcast. 

"Then why won't you look at me?" The smile fades a bit from his voice. 

Harry sounded genuinely upset, and this surprised me. 

Immediately I felt terrible. I raised my gaze to meet his own. In seconds I'm sucker punched in the gut by his honest confusion. "I'm sorry," I apologized, "I just - I have terrible people skills." 

"It's alright." He nodded a bit, understanding. "You're shy. I get it." His dimpled smile returned. He then seemed to remember something, fingers snapping. "So, the other day. When we bumped into each other, I believe you dropped your sketchbook." His long fingers disappeared within his jacket, before withdrawing my small book. 

My forehead creased, surprise written on my face. "Thank you so much! I thought I'd lost it!" 

Harry hands it over, his long fingers brushing past mine. 

"No problem." Harry paused, "If I may ask though, how long have you been drawing exactly? You're a fantastic artist." 

First I wanted to be angry with him for looking through it. It wasn't necessarily just a sketchbook, it was also a makeshift journal of mine, sort of. Sometimes when I drew I also wrote some of my thoughts in it, and some were private, ranging from lyrics, to how I was feeling about a certain scene. Some were thoughtful, others were....something different altogether. Something just short of promiscuous. 

Yet when Harry sounded impressed and genuinely interested I let it slide, just praying he hadn't read those entries. 

"I got really into it when I was in elementary school. Thank you, though." I shift my weight in the chair. Those entries were innocent enough, but the thought of him possibly reading them was enough to set my cheeks aflame. I felt my face grow hot.

He picks up on this and the dimples make yet another appearance. "Don't worry, love," he says cheekily, "I didn't read it all." His voice drops to a whisper as he leans in, "But between you and me, that's a very…graphic mind you've got yourself."

I sputter something incoherent, flabbergasted. 

I didn't know what to say to that. I was too embarrassed to even know where to begin.

It was then I noticed his body was shaking with silent laughter. 

Harry was messing with me. 

I slap a hand to my face, covering it as I laugh with him, my face reddening all over again. "Oh God."

"I was just joking. I didn't look at many of your pictures, I only thumbed through a few because it's not my place to look. But now, you've got me curious." He raises an eyebrow. "I guess it's true what they say. It's always the quiet ones you've got to watch out for." 

I shake my head, eyes averting to the ground again, as I pull the small book to my chest. "I don't know what to say to that. But thank you, really, for bringing it back."

Harry shrugs, "Honestly, it wasn't anything." He looks over my head. I turn around to see a blonde boy, the same one he was talking with earlier, waving him over, apparently ready to leave. I turn back around to see Harry's green eyes on me. He seemed a bit...annoyed? I'm assuming it was because he had to leave so soon. "I've got to go, but I hope to hear from you again soon, yeah?"

I didn't think that warranted a real reply so I merely returned his smile and made a small wave to him when Harry began to walk away.


I didn't expect to hear from him again, and part of me was really angry with myself because I didn't ask him for his number. 

Oh well I guess. I was flipping through the book for a new page, my hand feeling the need to sculpt that cheeky grin and honest green eyes, when I found that there was a loose page where I left off. It was a regular printer paper folded in half to fit the smaller book. 

Confused I opened it, surprise taking over my face. 

It was a rough drawing of me and Harry. My smile mirrored his and all it's glory. 

In a messy scrawl that could only belong to a boy, it read, 'I hope you don't mind this addition to your book. I felt like I needed to impress you some how, though this doesn't look half as good as yours. I meant what I said. I hope to hear from you soon.xx Harry'

My eyes fell lower, and my mouth dropped open even further, if that was possible. 

Underneath that was his phone number. 

And try as I may have. I couldn't help the smile that crept on my face.